Eaton weekly Democrat. [volume] (Eaton, Ohio) 1866-1875, 1873-10-09
A ROMANCE IN A NUTSHELL,
IFrom Cassell's Magazine.1

A. Berton? Who can she be Sure
ly I ought to remember her, since she
seems to recollect me so we'll for it is
an awkward thing. this, to get letter
from a lady, written in familiar sort of
way, talking of cold times" and
"years ago." asking my advice, and
wanting me to go and see her, and
unable to remember.
By the bye, suppose it is a lady.
Let me look again at the letter yes, it
must be. The handwriting is certainly
not mans, neither is the composition.
Listen to this for instance "I am
emboldened to write to you on the
strength of old times, and because, if
you are as kind-hearted, generous, and
indulgent as you used to be, you will
readily forgive an old friend, whose
recollections of you are so happy and SO
pleasing. Do you remember the time
we spent at that most primitive of all
villages how you taught me German
Young lady, did say Well, of course,
it must have been young lady. I
wonder what she was hke-talI or short,
dark or fair? What was her name,
too ? She signs herself, GA Berton. :"
Let me see, what names begin with A
Annie, Arabella, Alice, Avice, Adele
ali, wait-I have some faint notion of
some one, very long ago-twenty years,
and perhaps more, and think she was
called Adele-Adele Berton yes. that
sounds like name have heard before.
But where did L see her Primitive
village, sea-shore, and I young fellow
of one or two and twenty? Yes-I have
it; surely I went to Vignelles once,
when it was nothing but collection of
fishing huts, long before it became a
fashionable watering place OF course
I did, and it was there I saw Adele Ber-
ton. How could be so stupid as to
forget it? How could I forget Adele I?
Who was she? Why, simply the love-
hest girl ever saw. wonder what
she is like now? Describe her to you Z?
tell you all Adopt it j.? With pleasure,
as far as 1 can, only let me collect my
thoughts a little, and think how it all
came about-it was so long ago. Yes, L
begin to recollect now dare say it will
come back to me as tell you. Shall I
begin at the beginning?
1t must have been at least twenty
years ago that I received letter from a
friend, asking me to join him in AL
giers, where he had gone for his health,
and giving me such a description of the
place as he thought would tickle my
artistic fancy. I did not care much
about going, but l wanted change
SO wrote and told him that perhaps /
would come and did actually set out,
and got as far as Calais. There I ran
against an old acquaintance, who per-
suaded me to remain day or two, and
there, as Calais and Algers were equal
ly Indifferent to me, came to halt
at the commencement of my journey.
Eventually I might perhaps have gone
on, if L had not taken long walk to q
-. Ill IL
called Vignelles, buried in a valley
so picturesque that L Immediately said
to myself, sThis is thousand times
better than Algiers or Calais, and here
I'll stay"
I had been walking nearly all day
and was hot, tired, and dusty, and the
place seemed intensely inviting. As i
was nothing but cluster of fishing-cot
tages, it seemed to offer but small
chance of accommodation but luckily
did succeed in making arrangements fo,
bed and board in one of them, and tn,
next week found me quite settled dow
as an amateur fisherman in the mos
rustic and patriarchal little spot yol
ever saw.
have seldom seen handsomer wome1
than the fish girls of Vignelles, will
their broad, full chests and muscula
limbs, bright black eyes and thick, way
ward hair, to say nothing of their ricl
brown compilations and glowing cheeks
that would have shamed many a younl
lady whose hands have never touche
anything rougher than silk, and who's
notion of work is crochet or Berlil
wool.
j had spent two or three weeks a
Vignelles, and was fast becoming &C