The Wheeling daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1865-1903, 1867-06-19
Rate or SUBSCRIPTIONS.
A Few Words About Pic.Nics In Wet
Weather.

VctAaheEs-
AS general rule, pic-nics are more
old ones; and this Is curiously illus
trated by the opposite predictions as to
weather when one OF these expeditions
Is at hand. Paterfamilias shakes his
head as he consults his barometer, that
invaluable aneroid in which he retains
a robust faith in spite of by-gone de-
ceptions. "Rainf' is the gloomy YER
dict of the head of the family, as he
notes the dropping spirits of his dumb
familiar. But II Is amusing to observe
how sanguine are the young folks, and
how stouuy they maintain that the
coming day will be the finest OF all pos
sible holidays. The girls are full of
confidence. No amount of we'll meant
croaking over colds to be. caught, or
even as to spoiled hats and ruined
dresses, has power to damp their hopes.
As for Master Tom from school, he
casts malignant glances at the aneroid
as it hangs in the entrance-hall: and he
has need OF all his self.denial TO refrain
from giving spitetul kick to the
French-polished and brass-mounted
monster-that "beast of a barometer" i"
as he artlessly styles it, and which he
considers as his personal enemy. at
last Paterfamilias, coaxed, teased over
powered, gives way, and so, with many
misgivings, do the other elders. The
barometer is voted lying prophet, and
the carriages are ordered, and the ham
pers packed and forth sally the ad-
venturers to take their chance OF a wet
ting. Candor must admit that wet
picnic party is u very forlorn, dismal,
melancholy affair. a light shower, or
even a burst, short and sharp, of mas
sive thunder-rain, may be endurable in
wooded district, nay, may even
heighten the enjoyment OF the day by
superadding to 1t a spice OF adventure.
There is the alarm OF the coming
storm. the scrambling and hurrying
to reach friendly shelter beneath
the spreading boughs of old oaks 1t
may be, or where the beach trees car
pet the ground with fallen mast and
withered leaves. There is the half
playful terror with which the first
binding flash of real lightning Is greet
ed by the fair guests, and the huddhng
together, and the outcries, and laugh
ter, and excitement, as the thunder
rolls and the big drops come pattering
and Pumping, thick as grapeshot, up
on the leafy boughs above. The sky
seems all the bluer and the sun all the
brighter, presently, for that brief
skirmish of the elements. But a regu-
lar, steady soaking down-pour of rain,
sheltered spot will spoil the merry
meeting very completely. Not, very
likely, for Master Tom from school.
That young gentleman is of an age
when pleasure can be extracted from
almost anything except lessons; and
he il probably up a tree, laughing
heartily with two or three-fourth-form
imps like himself, and pronouncing the
rain to be lawfully jolly" Not, pos
sibly to Miss Kate and Miss Julia,
Toms elder sisters. whom cousin Harry
and his friend the Captain are careful to
screen with cloak and umbrella from
the swooping raindrifts. But picnic
parties do not consist exclusively of
light-hearted schoolboys, engaged
young ladies, or young ladies on
on the high road to an engagement, and
attractive swains. And even the most
chivalrous gentleman Is useless with
ont an ufflbrelIau