thebottlecouldnotsay,forhewasintheprovisionbasket.itremainedtherealongtime;butwhenatlastitwasbroughtforthitappearedasifsomethingpleasanthadhappened,foreveryonewaslaughing;thefurrier'sdaughterlaughedtoo,butshesaidverylittle,andhercheekswereliketworoses.thenherfathertookthebottleandthecork-screwintohishands.whatastrangesensationitwastohavethecorkdrawnforthefirsttime!thebottlecouldneverafterthatforgettheperformanceofthatmoment;indeedtherewasquiteaconvulsionwithinhimasthecorkflewout,andagurglingsoundasthewinewaspouredforthintotheglasses.

"longlifetothebetrothed,"criedthepapa,andeveryglasswasemptiedtothedregs,whiletheyoungsailorkissedhisbeautifulbride.

"happinessandblessingtoyouboth,"saidtheoldpeople-fatherandmother,andtheyoungmanfilledtheglassesagain.

"safereturn,andaweddingthisdaynextyear,"hecried;andwhentheglasseswereemptyhetookthebottle,raiseditonhigh,andsaid,"thouhastbeenpresenthereonthehappiestdayofmylife;thoushaltneverbeusedbyothers!"sosaying,hehurledithighintheair.

thefurrier'sdaughterthoughtsheshouldneverseeitagain,butshewasmistaken.itfellamongtherushesonthebordersofalittlewoodlandlake.thebottleneckrememberedwellhowlongitlaythereunseen."igavethemwine,andtheygavememuddywater,"hehadsaidtohimself,"butisupposeitwasallwellmeant."hecouldnolongerseethebetrothedcouple,northecheerfuloldpeople;butforalongtimehecouldhearthemrejoicingandsinging.atlengththerecamebytwopeasantboys,whopeepedinamongthereedsandspiedoutthebottle.thentheytookitupandcarriedithomewiththem,sothatoncemoreitwasprovidedfor.athomeintheirwoodencottagetheseboyshadanelderbrother,asailor,whowasabouttostartonalongvoyage.hehadbeentherethedaybeforetosayfarewell,andhismotherwasnowverybusypackingupvariousthingsforhimtotakewithhimonhisvoyage.intheeveninghisfatherwasgoingtocarrytheparceltothetowntoseehissononcemore,andtakehimafarewellgreetingfromhismother.asmallbottlehadalreadybeenfilledwithherbtea,mixedwithbrandy,andwrappedinaparcel;butwhentheboyscameintheybroughtwiththemalargerandstrongerbottle,whichtheyhadfound.thisbottlewouldholdsomuchmorethanthelittleone,andtheyallsaidthebrandywouldbesogoodforcomplaintsofthestomach,especiallyasitwasmixedwithmedicalherbs.theliquidwhichtheynowpouredintothebottlewasnotliketheredwinewithwhichithadoncebeenfilled;thesewerebitterdrops,buttheyareofgreatusesometimes-forthestomach.thenewlargebottlewastogo,notthelittleone:sothebottleoncemorestartedonitstravels.itwastakenonboard(forpeterjensenwasoneofthecrew)theverysameshipinwhichtheyoungmatewastosail.butthematedidnotseethebottle:indeed,ifhehadhewouldnothaveknownit,orsupposeditwastheoneoutofwhichtheyhaddrunktothefelicityofthebetrothedandtotheprospectofamarriageonhisownhappyreturn.certainlythebottlenolongerpouredforthwine,butitcontainedsomethingquiteasgood;andsoithappenedthatwheneverpeterjensenbroughtitout,hismessmatesgaveitthenameof"theapothecary,"foritcontainedthebestmedicinetocurethestomach,andhegaveitoutquitewillinglyaslongasadropremained.thosewerehappydays,andthebottlewouldsingwhenrubbedwithacork,anditwascalledagreatlark,""peterjensen'slark."

longdaysandmonthsrolledby,duringwhichthebottlestoodemptyinacorner,whenastormarose-whetheronthepassageoutorhomeitcouldnottell,forithadneverbeenashore.itwasaterriblestorm,greatwavesarose,darklyheavingandtossingthevesseltoandfro.themainmastwassplitasunder,theshipsprangaleak,andthepumpsbecameuseless,whileallaroundwasblackasnight.atthelastmoment,whentheshipwassinking,theyoungmatewroteonapieceofpaper,"wearegoingdown:god'swillbedone."thenhewrotethenameofhisbetrothed,hisownname,andthatoftheship.thenheputtheleafinanemptybottlethathappenedtobeathand,corkeditdowntightly,andthrewitintothefoamingsea.heknewnotthatitwastheverysamebottlefromwhichthegobletofjoyandhopehadoncebeenfilledforhim,andnowitwastossingonthewaveswithhislastgreeting,andamessagefromthedead.theshipsank,andthecrewsankwithher;butthebottleflewonlikeabird,foritborewithinitalovingletterfromalovingheart.andasthesunroseandset,thebottlefeltasatthetimeofitsfirstexistence,whenintheheatedglowingstoveithadalongingtoflyaway.itoutlivedthestormsandthecalm,itstruckagainstnorocks,wasnotdevouredbysharks,butdriftedonformorethanayear,sometimestowardsthenorth,sometimestowardsthesouth,justasthecurrentcarriedit.itwasinallotherwaysitsownmaster,butevenofthatonemaygettired.thewrittenleaf,thelastfarewellofthebridegroomtohisbride,wouldonlybringsorrowwhenonceitreachedherhands;butwherewerethosehands,sosoftanddelicate,whichhadoncespreadthetable-clothonthefreshgrassinthegreenwood,onthedayofherbetrothal?