The Kanabec County Times

ROMANCE OF A BOTTLE.
It was a beautiful day in midsummer, and the half a hundred-odd cabin passengers on the good steamship Nantic were listlessly lounging about the deck. They were already nine days out from Liverpool, and owing to an unfortunate accident which had occurred early on the voyage, only half the distance to their port of destination had been accomplished. The accident had been attended with no danger to the precious human freight but the monotony of the voyage was becoming unbearable, and the passengers were beginning to grumble. A particularly discontented group leaned against the port rail, amidships, composed of two young ladies showily dressed, two young men who looked rather jaunty in their semi-sailor dress, a stout, red-faced coarse-looking man, and an equally stout, red-faced, and coarse-looking woman. The two latter were called "papa" and "mamma" by the simpering young ladies and deferentially addressed as Mr. and Mrs. Gale by the young men in semi-sailor dress. Standing a little apart from the group was a slim, pale-faced girl in a dress of quiet gray, unrelieved save at the throat, where a bit of cherry-colored ribbon was gathered into a prim bow. This was Elsie Annabel, and she was maid and companion to the Misses Gale, who were named respectively Agnes and Eunice. She took no part in the conversation, but there was a sad and wistful look in the gray eyes as she turned her face toward the western horizon.
"I tell you what," cried the elder of the young men, addressing Miss Eunice in particular.
"Well?" interrogated that young lady, with a listless attempt at interest.
"Let's write letters to our friends, inclose them in bottles, and throw them overboard. They're no doubt considerably worried over our long absence, and as it's impossible to tap the cable and telegraph them a message we'll make old ocean's waves our letter-carrier."
"Pshaw, Rob," retorted Miss Eunice shrugging her shoulders, "how sentimental you are! As though a letter put in a bottle and thrown into the sea would ever reach anywhere!"
"I read somewhere," said Rob Carrington, "that shipwrecked sailors often send messages to their friends that way. We're about as bad as ship-wrecked, why can't we?"
"Let's ask the captain," said Eunice, and she walked toward that officer, who was moodily pacing up and down the bridge. The others followed.
"Yes, miss," answered the captain, when Eunice had asked about the possibility of the bottles being washed ashore. "I've no doubt they'll reach land somewhere. The steward will furnish you with bottles if you desire to make the experiment."
Everybody, young and old, began to write letters—everybody except Elsie Annabel. No waiting kindred anxiously expected her return, and the only real friend she had ever had, handsome Guy Chalmers, was lost to her. Two years before she had engaged herself to the young artist, but they had quarreled and separated in anger, as lovers will. She was too proud to ask his forgiveness and he was too stubborn to ask hers. Gradually they had drifted apart, and finally lost all sight of each other. As these thoughts of the past surged through her mind, Elsie sighed—a bitter, quivering sigh. Papa Gale paid her liberally for the service she rendered in polishing up the somewhat neglected educations of his two daughters, but they were selfish and capricious, and her lot was not by any means a happy one. The steamship's decks now rang with joyous laughter and merry jest as the passengers prepared the messages that they confidently hoped would be wafted shoreward. All sorts of letters were written, read over laughingly, placed in their frail receptacles, and cast into the sea.
"Have you written your message yet, Miss Annabel?" asked Agnes Gale, halting for a moment beside her maid as she leaned over the rail and watched the tightly corked bottles as they bobbed up and down.
"My message?" cried Elsie, with a guilty start, for she had just been thinking of Guy Chalmers. "Ah—eh—really I have no one to write to!"
"No one?" persisted Agnes.
"No!" was the low answer, and Elsie's eyes dropped.
"That's too bad!" said Agnes, commiseratingly. "Everybody is sending out a message. If I were you I'd just write something and send it off at random. You could sign your name and address, and perhaps some one would find it, who'd be anxious to know who you are and would write. That would be romantic!"
"I've no taste for romance!" answered Elsie, but she nevertheless procured a bottle, and, after a moment's thought wrote on a piece of paper.
In Mid-Ocean, on Steamer Nantic, Aug 12.—An accident which happened to our propeller has delayed our voyage, and we are nine days out from Liverpool. The captain says we are just half way between that port and New York. Everybody is well. Elsie Annabel, Cincinnati, O.
She placed this simple message in a bottle, corked and sealed it, and tossed it overboard. The bottle was particularly long-necked, bright green in color, and her inexperienced hand had smeared the whole top with red wax. She stood watching it a long time but finally it disappeared, and with a weary sigh she turned and went below. The Nantic ultimately reached New York. Rob Carrington and his cousin, Arthur Stevens, bade the Misses Gale farewell, and secretly promised to correspond with them. The Gales had been home nearly a month, when one morning a hired hack came slowly up the long carriage-road which wound through the rich pork-packers extensive grounds and, when it finally reached the house, the door opened and a young man leaped lightly to the ground. He inquired of the servant who answered his ring for Miss Elsie Annabel and the man showed him into the back parlor. Elsie was considerably surprised when told that a gentleman wished to see her below, but she went down and timidly approached the back parlor. She halted for a moment on the threshold, and the gentleman, who had been idly drumming on a window, turned. At sight of his face she reeled and would have fallen had he not sprung forward and caught her in his arms.
"Elsie, my darling!" he said, holding her very tightly; "have you no word of welcome for me?"
"Oh, Guy!" she murmured, as her eyes met his, "have you really come back to me? I have been so lonely without you! Forgive me for my cruelty!"
"It is I who have come to ask for forgiveness!" said Guy, leading her to a seat. "After we parted, two years ago, and I got over my stubbornness I tried to find you, but you had disappeared leaving no trace behind you. I was inconsolable, and reproached myself for my harshness, because it was all my fault. Finally, however, I grew moody and cynical, but I could never bring myself to think of you with aught but love and tenderness. Six months after you disappeared my old uncle died and left me his heir. Since that time I have hunted for you, far and wide. Last summer I took a run along the coast in my yacht, stopping at every port. Two weeks ago we were lying off Cape Breton in a dead calm. One of the sailors called my attention to a bottle that was drifting by us. I fished it up with a scoop-net. It was sealed, and all gathered around to see what it contained. I broke the neck and found this little note," and he produced from an inner pocket the identical message she had written on board the Nantic in mid-ocean. "You can imagine my joy at the strange discovery of your hiding place, and a breeze springing up, I ordered the yacht put about and we ran into Halifax. I have come to you as fast as steam would carry me, to ask your forgiveness and assure you that I have never ceased to love you."
What answer she made him can but be imagined. Anyway, when Papa Gale returned to dinner he heard the whole story; and declared in his hearty way that he'd give away the bride. Papa Gale, true to his word, gave the bride away, and the great pyramid of flowers which occupied the center of the banquet table was crowned by the identical bottle that was responsible for the happy event.