The Newtown bee., 1880-12-22
THE BOTTLES STORY,
A CHRISTMAS SKETCH.

The bottle. filled with water, twas hidden behind picture in the pretty parlor, and in the water was growing 8 sturdy ivy vine, which had climbed up and caught hold of the cord that held the picture, and, in it's joy at reaching so great a height, had thrown out two cheerful, glossy, light green leaves that looked smilingly down cn the larger, darker leaves below.
 The children had all gone to bed. Their stockings were hanging in a row under the mantel in the dining-r room. Four of them. One pink and white, and very short in the leg-that was the two year-old baby's; one red and black-that was five-year- Toms; one striped with buff and purple-that was seven- year-old Mays; and one checked in blue and .gray-that was nine year-old Maud's.
 Ihe grown people were upstairs dressing the spare room-(granomamma the dear old lady!-was coming from her cottage in the country to spend holi- day week)-with Christmas greens.
 The parlor was already dressed. Fes- tocns of jolly, cold-defying winter vines dotted with bright red berries hung from the ceiling snd inwreathed the gilt chandelier, wrea ths, garlands and crosses of autumn leaves frightened the gray walls, and punches Of slender dried grasses nodded from quaint, small white pitchers and pretty little vases.
 " How lovely the parlor looks to- night! said delicate voice from ore corner of the room, and tall, featbery spear of grass bent gracefully, forward.
 Lovely!" repeated bunch of au- tumn leaves from the opposite correr.
 And how happy we should be" said the ivy, to think that we help make if so! And yet when I was first taken from my parent yine-'twas in last October Il thought I should never cease to regret the outer life. But have been sheltered from winters cruel winds and heavy snows, and tended with kindly care and tender love. and I've no doubt, if I remain here dur pleasant to look at the sweet faces and hear the happy voices of the dear chil- dreh as to sec the gay butterflies and listen to the songs of tue birds. But you, Bottle, ,"-looking down at the bot tie which held her and the water that gave her life" aren't you rather lonelyP Shut in between the back of the picture and the wall, you can see nothing"
 ;" can see you, dear Ivy" answered the bottle, in clear, ripping voice, and you are very pleasant thing to NSOh upOh Slno III LliS uIIInlHg can see long sunbeam on the wall, and that is tt very pleasant thing to look upon. And as for being lonely-not bit of it; I'm as happy as I can be. And you would say I ought to be happy if you but knew the life used to lead before I had the honor and pleasure of support
 "Tell us all about it--pray do," beg ged many little voices.
 Hear! hear! heart" parked the bronze dog that stood on the top of the marble clock. "A story from the bot tle."
 "A story from the bottle,' repeated the feather duster, as it hoped quickly in. on it's one wooden leg, from the hall, where it had been lying on the mat. !" must hear it, too. Clock, couldn't you stop ticking for 8 little whilep'
 Sorry can't oblige you," Said the clock, in a fairy-bell like tone; but I was wound up this afternoon, and so I must go on for week; but I'll tick as softly as possible, and you won't notice it as soon as the story begins"
 Now. bottle,'' parked out the small bronze dog, we're all ready.n
 Yes, go ahead, called the drummer boy from the lid of the match box.
 Well" !" if you insist upon 1t, and it WILL ACllly &INC yO0 plCtSuIG, SalU the bottle, modestly, although I had no in- tention of telling story when spoke of my past life, I will go ahead. I'll be- gin with the time just after I left the mandatory"
 'ManufactoryP said the ivy.
 "Manufactory," explained the bottle "a place where they make bottles"
 .Oh!" said the ivy. You see I didn't know, cause there's no place where they make ivies. Ivies grow.n
 T left the manufactory, continued the bottle, with a number of other bottles enough like me to have been my brothers and sisters"
 Perhaps they were," parked the bronze dog.
 Very likely" said the bottle. ssAnd we were all carried down into dismal place called cellar, and filled with some dark-looking stuff that both tasted and smelled very--n
 "Unpleasantly." hinted the ivy.
 Unpleasantly, yes; thank you, that's the word,' said the bottle. ssThen corks were forced into our mouths, and we were taken to large store, where we were ranged around on shelves in company with hundreds of other bottles of all shapes and sizes. Of course we couldn't speak to each other; but for all that, we didn't lead 3 quiet life, for the tore was always full of men from morn ing until night, and often far into the night too. Such a thirsty crowd as they were! always wanting something to drink, and getting noisier and thirstier all the time. Well, one evening a bright-looking, pleasant-faced young man came in. A bottle of your very best whisky, said be- It's my birth. day, and have some friends coming to spend the evening, and must make q