The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1867-08-20
q From, hc NeW York World.
The Raannn OF Filtration.

,lhe SeAbOEN OI R4IEEAtlOus
q Hard by some shore of the sea; or in
some dewy place rustling with ferns
and soft TO the feet with mosses; or
pressed against the paling at an angle
remote, from the populous verandah
of some fashionable hotel, the bosoms
OF many a couple engaged in "only an
innocent Irritation" are surely palpitat-
ing dangerously near each other about
the middle watches of these August
nights. There is pair who liDger-or
the world has changed-by the cliff,
upon the sands. The lady lies, half
reclining prone, with her shoulders
supported against piece of wreck, her
draperies f1uttering ngvoluptuously about
her in the breeze. One dazzling ankle,
tightly clad, peeps from beneath her
snowy petticoat.- Her fan now bangles
idly from her wrist, and now Is nerv-
ously clutched- to thwack a sleepless
sand-hy from her Itching nose. The
fingers of one slender hand are daily
ing with the rosebud at her throat; and
both her moist grey eyes are mirrors,
down gazing into which "enamored
constellations"-so pipes the soft
voiced loon beside her-"arrange their
heavenly hair" Low down by the
surf, locked arm in arm, another pair
stroll slowly and pause often-one to
dissect the damp retreats of Tiny mol
lusca with his cane; oneto smooth them
over WILL ueL dRllo lOCs 4AOA Sho"A 40
constantly being blown off her shoul-
ders, and is duly flung round them
again by hands that Craze and thrill
her just beneath her chin. Farther of,
quite in he shadow of the neighboring
cliff, and rather shrinking from the too
watchful and owl-like gaze OF mamma
In her carriage, the ardent Cynthia and
her attendant Ounce, crouch cheek. to
cheek, hand. in hand, and coo like ring
doves to each other in their nest. Away
back from the sound of the waves, the
speed of the fastest bay team on the
road is slackened while the belle of the
last nights "hop," quite exhausted and
ready TO faint with riding in a seat that
has no buck to it, lightly leans her no
weight at all against the pleased drivers
velvet coat-sleeve, and admonishes him
that he mustn't dare to talk any nom
sense-or she will never go out with
him again. Miles to the rear, among
the mountains, where the sunlight
that has quilted the sea still tinges
the peaks, the heroes and heroines
of the days climb to the sum-
NIT, are descending-the weak trust
ing to the strong, the latter taking
their rewards in presumptuous en-
braces to save poor maiden from fall
ing, and in most enchanting glimpses
of the tidiest stockings that maiden
ever wore. Just aside from the gravel
led walk-where so many laughing
people are strolling in the interval be-
tween the Redowa and the Lancers-in
the arbor under the elms, 10 the dark
est, baughtiest demoiselle that eyer trod
on the patent feathers of her partner in
revenge for a ball room Jdur pas. The
handsomest and worst of men has flung
himself carelessly alongside-so close
that his elbow touches herS-with his
chin sunk upon his shirt bosom, and
her fan laying across his knees between
1t, l. MI h
topmoSt splendors OF her faultless
shape are Dane to the airs, she is shock
ingly warm and must needs to be fam
ned. The semi-torpid wretch begins to
fan her. and something wicked poisOns
the artificial breeze. Heaven only
she idiotic young gentlemen in the
widows above the neighboring balcony,
over ~ine-glasses, ices and cream. The
zephyrs, out of a fellow-ieelinR for
what ever is soft and perishable,
whisk the light vocal down
away through the opposite win
dows, and forget all about it before they
reach the cottage gate where the bright
est faced damsel on all the countryside
is giving her true lover an honest good
night kiss. Even that is forgotten by
the vagrant children of the winds, long
ere their Invisible tresses are tangled
among the roofs and towers of the city
DeyOnu. But .Lney 90 not 1Orgel-pe-
cause, what with being bruised between
brick walls, and bedraggled in cutters |
and stagnated with m1asmas, they are
made an end of-the last love-scene
that they happened to hutter down
upon before they perished. An Irish |
laborer sits with his mistress on door |
step, hugging her waist. Her head re-
poses snug against his brawny throat.
His fiery beard mingles with her hair. |
The moonlight illuminates these two
figures. The lips of the lover move.
He is asking for something. The
shock head, nesting closer, discreetly |
inquiries is there no one TO see? mo |
one but the man in the moon" "Then |
you may have one, Pat" And the |
son of Erin, withdrawing |
his grim visage from aphrodisiacalc con-
tact with the ireckled cheek beneath |
his chin, is peer of all the world of fools |
and lovers. .s .a-.r.T