Martinsburg independent. [volume] (Martinsburg, W. Va.) 1875-1900, 1891-04-04
MARY RAVENEL.

rel, as he took a rosy August APP
pie from his pocket, and fed it leis-
urely to the beautiful white horse
against which he leaned. "Why,
yes, it is rather romantic business,
if you look upon it from romantic
point of view. You're an artist, eh?
Come to sketch our little bits Of
rustic scenery? But there's nothing
particularly picturesque about our
hop fields. Just sunshine, and the
gold-grsen of the clusters, and the
curling tendrils reaching out for
something to grasp at, and the air
so blue and clear that one can al
most see the straight lines of the
sunshine. OF course it looks pretty
to me, for l was born and brought
up in it; but-excuse mel can
see what there is specially worthy of
an artists pencil p
Mr.. Raymond smiled.
"Do you see those long perspec-
lives of green alleys" said he; with
the figures running in and out, and
the old woman sitting among the
fragrant heaps, with the scarlet
cloak, and the two little toddlers at
her feet? And yonder feeble, bent
old man, with water. cans on his
shouidersY Why, there are hum
dred bits of genre here, to say moth
ing of the background"
And Raymond took out his mill
boards and color boxes, set up an
impromptu easel, and began dill
gently to paint.
Squire Durell's son looked on
with an amused smile. To him, the
machinery Of the great hop-farm was
the real business of life. Artists
and such like were merely pleasure
seekers who disported themselves on
the outskirts of creation
"You will find some very pretty
faces here" said Durell, if you care
for sketching that sort of thing.
People come here from all parts of
the country, in hop-picking time.
Gipsies, tramps, respectable poor
workers who don't abject to turning
an honest penny, young people who
come here for the frolic of the thing,
and poor old wretches who think
that every season will be their last,
It's healthy the doctors say. At all
events, it's profitable. In hop-sea-
son, there isn't cottage, a farm
house garnet, nor even a barn I'M
tenanted. There are tents, white
sprinkle of them, down in the mead
ow by the vines, where people sleep
at nights. You can see them from
here. You are staying in this part
of the neighborhood No? Ny
father will be very glad to see you
up at the house, if you will honor us
by becoming our guest tonight.
And raising his light straw hat,
Daniel Durell went his way, the
beautiful, satin-skinned white horse
following, like a docile kitten, at his
heals.
'Hugh," he said, to servant who
had come down with hamper from
the house, "take cup of hot coffee
and two or three of those white rolls
with my compliments, to that gentle
man in the white linen coat who is
sketching under the trees. And
Hugh!'
"Sir p
''Did you carry the sardine sand.
witches, and the basket of apricots
and the fresh milk, to the young
girl in black :"
The man nodded.
"She didn't want to take 'em, Mr.
Daniel said he ''She was all fol-
calling me back, but l minded your
order, sir, and made off as fast as ]
could, pretending not to hear.
Durell smiled.
"That's right" said he. ''And
don't forget the cold meat and slices
of new bread for old Dunstable. He
grows feebler and feebler every day
and there was nothing but the heel
of loaf and black cheese rind il
his dinner basket, for | saw it my
self"
tits all right, sir" said Hugh.
And then Durcll, going up to th'
great house, shrewdly noting all ths
hop-pickers as they sat and lay
around, under the shadow of the
vines, in the dolce far niente of tht
noon intermission, finally came inte
the great, cool room, where the seem
of cheese-making filed the air, and
the muslin curtains huttered to anC
fro in the breeze.
The Squire himself sat there
equity, but content. Iced claret ane
cold chicken were on the table
forced dollhouse peaches scented
the atmosphere; a plate of devilee
tongue, with curry sauce, supplied
! the fiery element; and delicate cut