Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1898-10-09
"MOUNT" VIGNETTEs.
/. THE ORCHARD RAID.

The sun still topping the western hills
pours tides of splendor into the amphi-
theatre Of green, on the uplands that
dip again and die away into Edgington
Valley, the widening to Elm Grove and
the bottom lands of Wheeling creek.
1t fires the hundred windows of the
Convent looking west and south. The
stately pile seems all ablaze, but, like
the burning bush Of old, flames but is
not consumed.
Slowly, slowly, like the coming on of
| memorable fate, the shadows stretch
/ ghostly fingers down the slopes The
sleek and glossy Steenrod herd across
the track that all day long have been
making combinations of snowy white
and bright browns and coal black and
rich chestnut on the lush green of the
! hillside is now half in gloom and in
stinctively heads at milking time for
| the farm yard nesting between the
slopes within hearing of the baDbling
stream. Away beyond, UP to the heav-
en- of uncloudted blue, hills rise above
hills and sweep precipitously down at
all sorts of inclines and along all kinds
| of planes as though children of the Tit
! ans had been playing with giant blocks
and left the game incomplete. In the
, foreground Pleasant Valley stretches
out. In full length ease. Never was an
adjective more appropriately used.
| Everywhere light and shade in all de-
| grees of intensity and gloom and in the
woods fame forth the fire red of the
Sumach, the golden glory of the sump-
tuous maple, the tremulous gray white
of the aspen, the frank whtteness of the
| birch bolees and the sturdy green of
the oak contesting inch by inch, or
rather tint by tint, the oncoming of
chill Autumn, and making believe it is
yet summer like Miss Passee, dyeing
the tell-tale gray hair at the temples
and desperately dressing young!
| Everywhere a tender beauty and var
iety of gorgeous hue but everywhere a
deep, sweet unruffled calm, A calm so
| profound as one gazes northward at the
| Convent like dull ruby in its rich en-
erald setting that, but for the wavelets
of Mozart or Bach or Wagner ripping
from the practice rooms mingled with
the clang of coWbells on the right one
might we'll imagine that this is the land
| of the lotos eaters where it is always
! afternoon" .
"a land where all things always
seemed the same" and that Convent
| had been standing and the music rip
| ping, and drowsy cowbell changing
! and radiance raining down from hill
| top forever and forever, and forever
and forever would endure!
But not quite that long! Hark that
shout, then a scream; is murder being
done? No, no, there is not that riot
Gus laughter and gurgling glee and
merry whoop and mixtures of whoop
and scream and laughter, when foul
| crime is perpethted Look, look! the
playground gate up there swings back
and a radiant throng bursts forth!
Here they come-a kaleidoscope con-
fusion of blues and grays and dead
white and old gold and Cardinal reds,
as though the nodding lilies and late
roses and peonies in the par
terres there had suddenly become
instinct with motion, sweeping along
the quickest hedge that curves and
| coils like a monster green snake down
| the incline. Why after all, it's only
| the Mt de Chantal girls "just let loose
| from school, Amid the screams of
! delight, the shouts of laughter the STAG
cato notes of an operate gem, the gay
antics of the throng there is one con-
slant point of repose-the staid face of
the young Sister In the sombre garb.
| Despite all the hurryings and sour
ryings, the swift attack and the swift
er repulse, the excursions hither and
thither, there is some method and di-
rect1on in the madness, for, arrived at
! rustic gate forming a break in the
line of dark frs, they charge with one
accord and the obstruction yielding,
the raid into the orchard is begun.
There stand the trees in stately rows,
the luscious apples shining like balls of
fire, or golden spheres like minia-
ture harvest moons between the spread
ing boughs through which the waning
sunlight filters. And underneath the fair
| daughters of Eve as eager for the fruit
| as their great, great, great-ad inflni-
| tun-grandmother ages before! Some
of these marauders have been there in
former years. The new girls, mostly
small, sink their teeth into the bitter
| sweets, small crab apples and make
a wry face, but the connoisseurs steer
for the juicy rambeaus, the pale gold
pipkins or the brown russell Of delicate
meat Oh, to see these maids from the
little one of eight who nurses her doll
to sweet seventeen, who dreams of her
beau, Old Sol himself seems to shine
more brightly here than elsewhere this
glorious October day, and to clothe in
glory the streaming golden hair, the
laughing eyes and supple girlish fig
ures. The less active seize the wind
falls laid low by yesterdays's clustering
storm, but the discerning search for
| those
"Sweetened with the summers light,
The full juiced apple, waxing over mel
low
That drops in the autumn night"
The revel is done and the crowd re-
| trace their steps or rather repeat their
pirouettings and their gambols in and
out of the corn sheaves. over the wide
ton ITO patch (the 1owly apples of the
vine). across the smooth lawn to in
snect the new tennis court sacred tc
the graduates nine, and as they pass
heavily laden with spoil in hat and
apron and dock leaf and impro.
vised basket the sweet odors of orchard
and field perfume the brooding air
Twilight comes on apace the shad-
ows deepen and lengthen. All outlines