By the will of her uncle, Ida was in possession of a large estate. The
fair young girl was without a near relative in the world. Colonel
Hazlewood kindly undertook the management of her property; and, at the
invitation of Rosabel and her mother, she made her home in the mansion
of the Widow Wild. On a certain day we there find her seated in her room
and engaged in composition. Her little fingers run rapidly over the
pages, and soon finish a letter of several sheets of gilt-edged
note-paper. She gazes intently at her own name, written in a beautiful
hand at the bottom of the last page, and then she kisses it. Having so
done, she folds the letter, and then opens it and imprints another kiss
on the same spot. Now, why did the young lady kiss her own name written
at the end of the letter? Love has its unerring instincts, and Ida knew
that as soon as a certain young gentleman opened that letter, and saw
the name at the bottom of the last page, he would rapturously imprint a
multitude of kisses on that particular spot. How did the young maiden
know this? Had she not received a number of letters, and as soon as she
saw "Tom" written at the end of each, had she not looked around to
ascertain if any one was observing her; and then had not her ruby lips
kissed the beloved name again and again in rapid succession? Thus Tom
had been kissing Ida and Ida had been kissing Tom, for the last six
months, with a whole continent between them.
The kiss was carefully sealed up in an envelope and conveyed to the
post-office at Mapleton. The iron monster attached to a train of cars,
rushing through the hills and over the valleys, carried it to New York.
A magnificent steamer transported it over the Atlantic's waves, and
across the Mexican Golf and the Caribbean Sea to the mouth of the
Chagres River; and from thence it traveled in a canoe to Gorgona and
Cruces; and then rode on the back of a mule to Panama, where another
steamer received it, and plowing through the billows of the Pacific,
entered the Golden Gate, and took it as far as San Francisco; and from
thence, on another steamer, it proceeded up the bay, and entering the
river, arrived at the city of Sacramento; and then rode on the back of
another mule across the prairies and among the mountains, and was safely
deposited in a post-office in a mining-town, where Toney Belton was
awaiting the arrival of the mail. We thus see how many means of
transportation were required to convey a young lady's kiss to her lover.
But where was the lover? About three miles from that post-office, on the
side of a ravine, stood a young man clad in a pair of loose trousers and
a red shirt. He appeared to be engaged in culinary operations, and was,
in fact, cooking flapjacks. His rifle leaned against a tree; his wool
hat lay on the ground; the sleeves of his red shirt were rolled up to
the elbow; his long beard was parted and tied in a knot behind his neck,
so as to escape being scorched when he stooped over the fire; and he
grasped the handle of a frying-pan, used instead of an oven, and watched
the effect of the heat upon the material lying in the bottom of the pan.
And now he lifts the pan from the fire and gives it a peculiar toss, and
up flies a flapjack in the air about three feet above the pan, and,
turning over as it descends, is caught and ready to be baked on the
other side. Just as this feat was accomplished, a voice cried out,--
"Here, Tom, is a letter!"
Tom dropped the flapjack on the fire, and, in great excitement, ran to
the spot where Toney Belton had just dismounted from a mule. The mule
kicked at him, but Tom dodged, and, receiving the letter, hurried behind
a pine-tree, and, seating himself on a rock, opened it. He turned it
over, and seeing the signature, he kissed Ida several times in quick
succession. Thus was Ida's kiss, after having traveled more than ten
thousand miles, safely conveyed to Tom's lips.
Tom Seddon read the letter and was the happiest man in the diggings.
When he came to the last line he kissed Ida again. Tom read the letter
over five times, and at the close of each reading his lips approached
the paper and tenderly pressed it. When he came from behind the tree,
Toney had eaten all the flapjacks which had been baked. He told Toney
that old Crabstick was dead and that he must go home.
"And so must I," said Toney.
"We will start to-morrow," said Tom.
"We will start from the mines to-morrow," said Toney.
"I wish you had a hundred thousand dollars," said Tom.
"I have more than a hundred thousand dollars," said Toney. "Read that."
And he handed Tom a letter addressed to himself. Tom read it, and then
ran to the place where his wool hat lay on the ground, and, seizing it,
threw it up in the air.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Tom. "You can now marry Rosabel!"