“‘You may remember,’ resumed the old gentleman, ‘that when I was younger I traveled extensively, but it has probably escaped your minds that I spent much time in Arabia. Nevertheless that is so. I traveled, not with any thought of exploring or attaining scientific results, but for my own pleasure only. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, I avoided the main routes of travel, and always, so far as was possible, sought remote and primitive regions. It was in such a place that late one afternoon I came upon a romantic little glade, hidden between two ridges of the mountains I was traversing. All around, the country was bleak and barren, but here the grass was of the greenest and the foliage of the freshest; and it needed only a slight investigation to discover that this desirable state of affairs was due to the waters of a little spring which rose from the ground at one end of the glade. The water was remarkably clear and transparent, and over the spring itself was a small structure of stone, which, though half ruined by the passage of time, still bore a very evident resemblance to a miniature temple. My interest was strongly aroused; I scented a story, and I had my guide make inquiry of the villagers. I was right; there was a story and one which interested me greatly. For at that time I was still young and, though it is I who say it, not without attraction for the ladies; and I still entertained hopes that some day I would know those joys and delights that have come to my lucky young nephew. So I got from my baggage an old crystal flask, which I had picked up in Bassorah, and filled it from the spring; my guide produced an aromatic gum which he was in the habit of burning for the enjoyment of its odor, and we hermetically sealed the flask, which from that day to this I have always preserved most carefully. The day is long past, however, when it can be of use to me, whereas the time has only just begun, my dear Robert and my dear Amy, when it can be of use to you. So it is this flask, my dears, which I have chosen as my real gift to you.’ “He fumbled beneath the flowers and ferns which covered the table before him, and from its hiding-place produced something which he held high in his hand that all might see. It was a flask of crystal, long, slender and delicately fashioned, and filled to the very stopper with a liquid which, though colorless and transparent, seemed in the blazing light to sparkle and give forth faint iridescent gleams. It was a beautiful thing, and Craig’s wife gave a little exclamation of delight as the old gentleman bowed courteously and handed it to her. “‘But Uncle Robert,’ she reminded him, as she took it, ‘the story? You said there was a story.’