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!"