addressing a vigneron at work much to recommend it: it is close by, said, "Mon brave homme [my good man], what is the name of the village on the top of this hill?" "Ma brave femme, c'est Alluze, pour vous servir," he rejoined with a chuckle. The vignerons, who represent almost exclusively the working class here, do not consider themselves as servants-in fact they are independent. In the majority of cases the agreement with the vine - growers is the following the vignerons do not receive wages, and one proprietor may have several vignerons, according to the extent of his vineyards, each man being supposed to take care of forty, and in some cases fifty, ouvrées, with his wife. He has the use of a private cottage, ordinarily composed of two rooms; either a plot of ground for vegetables, or else if he, jointly with his wife, cultivates the proprietor's kitchen-garden, he has a right to provide for the wants of his household out of it. The woman keeps a cow and a pig, sometimes fowls, rabbits, and pigeons, and is allowed to take home the grass and herbage weeded from the vineyards, and also to grow dwarf beans on the outside slopes of the furrows' border - edges. She owes no domestic work to the proprietor: her sole duty is the fastening of the vines. Her husband digs the ground, manures it, keeps it free from weeds: he has, besides, to set up the props and prune the vines when required, and lastly, to superintend the vintage, of which one-half is his remuneration. This scheme has fair to both parties. The one gives his work, and the other provides the ground already planted, the necessary manure, and the props or railings, according to the manner of cultivation. When railings are adopted, it is the new system called en bandeaux: the ground is ploughed with a special small plough between the lines, instead of being dug up. It is of course most probable that the working man, who takes his half of the proceeds, will do his best to make them as large as possible by his care and attention. This scheme answered very well so long as the vines remained healthy and fruitful, but when they were successively, and then simultaneously, attacked by oïdium, mildew, blackrot, and phylloxera, and when the produce steadily diminished, the vignerons, and even the vine-growers, saw their means decreasing so rapidly that in the course of a few years many of the wealthy proprietors, whose fortune was entirely invested in their vineyards, were utterly ruined. For the vines had to be tended all the same, and the vignerons, now refusing to run the risk of the à moitié system, had to be paid wages, so that it became a great outlay for an inadequate return. At first it was hoped that a remedy having been discovered against oïdium in the Bouillie Bordelaise, the vines might still be saved. But the increasing ravages of the phylloxera left no alternative-the old stocks must be sacrificed, both American and French, for stocks and grafts. There was in the garden a lofty arch of trellis - work covered with an American vine, unpruned, to show its vigour and beauty. It climbs, when unrestrained, almost like the Virginia-creeper, and the size of its leaves is four times that of the French species. It gives no fruit-only some tiny green berries much smaller than those of the ivy: it makes splendid bowers. and the exhausted ground renovated by appropriate treatment. Then began the brave fight of the people against formidable odds: many dared not venture it, and had to sell their - now valueless property, as they say, "pour un morceau de pain.' Those who could manage to live upon a greatly diminished income, and still go to the necessary expenses for replanting, proceeded in this way: they had a certain proportion of their vines (those in the worst state) uprooted, burned, and the ground ploughed over and left to rest for a year. Next some kind of foddersuch as clover-was sown, and when ready to be cut, it was dug into the soil as manure for two successive years, after which young American vines (which resist the phylloxera) were planted, then grafted with choice French ones, and carefully tended for five years before they could yield anything worth calling a vintage. It might prove tedious were I to describe in detail the different processes resorted to for ensuring a good result: it is enough to say that seven years are required for the renovation of a vineyard-from the uprooting of the diseased stock to the first gathering of a vintage. I owe these explanations to Monsieur L., who showed me in his grounds all the stages of the new culture; for besides cultivating his vineyards in full bearing, he was replanting and grafting others, and selling different kinds of vines, As we were passing from one vineyard to another, Monsieur L. picked some of the ripest grapes for me to taste their different flavours. The large black berries for vin ordinaire, the small ones for bon vin; the white used for sparkling Burgundy; and a peculiar opaline muscat, of which the wine we drank habitually was made. We bought it from Monsieur L. at the price of fivepence a bottle, and thought it delicious. The "École-Communale des filles" occupies one of the wings of the château, and on the 15th of August, which in Catholic countries is the fêteday of the Virgin Mary, and of so many females bearing her name, we noticed a procession of schoolgirls marching past our gates in good order. There was not the slightest difference between their dress and that of bourgeois children, though their parents were simply vignerons. Each of them was taking a bouquet of fresh flowers to the mistress of the school, and the youngest (as I learned later) was to offer a very pretty clock as their joint present. Shortly afterwards Mademoiselle C. (the mistress), whom we had met now and then in the grounds, graciously brought us some of her nosegays, with an invitation to a goûter en plein air with her pupils, under the horse-chestnuts on the terrace-the proprietors having kindly allowed the use of it for the occasion. We accepted, and sat upon chairs together with several other ladies, whilst the children were ranged upon wooden benches, eagerly awaiting the beginning of the play-for a play was to be acted by the more advanced pupils. The little actresses were dressing in a kiosk, from which they soon issued in tasteful costumes, and, with great determination of manner and mechanical gestures, went through their parts, to the delight and admiration-and perhaps envy also of their younger schoolfellows. The plaudits were loud and prolonged, and interrupted only by the appearance of two very large flat baskets, filled with cakes, and a capacious wateringcan with wine. I wondered at the quantity of wine, but soon perceived that these little Burgundians would easily despatch it, for they quaffed a tumblerful with the utmost alacrity, and it being a very hot day, they were for replenishing it pretty often. They showed themselves the true descendants of parents who never mix wine with water, their theory being that the juice of the grape never does any harm to any However, I remarked with satisfaction that, after the first round, Mme. L. was wisely pouring a certain quantity of water into the can-enough to transform the beverage into eau-rougie. But it must be avowed that the requests for it slackened considerably from that moment. Whatever may be said in favour of drinking wine pure and in great quantity, I am certain of its evil effects on the population, for although many of the people live to a very advanced age, they look worn out and decrepit long before death, and their limbs-especially the legs. are in many cases deformed by rheumatism. I know the arduous labour in the vineyards, with the short-handled spade, bends their spine early and unavoidably; but the distortion of arms and legs is certainly the result of rheumatism produced by a long course of unrestrained wine - drinking, by themselves and their ancestors. It also seems to me that the health of children brought up in this keen and invigorating air, and allowed the freedom of constant outdoor exercise, ought to be robust-yet it is nothing of the sort; many are thin, pale-faced, and far from strong-looking. Why is it so, if not owing to some hereditary taint? I do not mean to imply that all the people are drunkards, and all the children unhealthy, for it is very seldom indeed that outward signs of drunkenness are perceptible, and one often meets with children fresh and sound; but, nevertheless, I feel convinced that the consumption of wine is excessive in those parts, and also that too much importance is attached to good living generally. It has been said to me repeatedly and by different persons that they would not care to live in Paris, because their means would be insufficient for the comforts and luxuries they were enjoying in the Val d'Or, where living is cheap. "They would have to be sparing of their wines and could not afford the same qualities: poultry and game, as well as wood for fuel, would be beyond their possibilities, together with many other good things to which they were accustomed." It was in vain that I tried to oppose to these advantages those of a higher order so plentifully offered in a metropolis, such as museums, public libraries, concerts, and picture-galleries. The answer was that "they did very well without them." The fact is, they have no intellectual wants, no desire for culture; their only reading is in a daily newspaper and an occasional novel, and the topics of conversation are furnished by politics for men, and family matters with gossip for women. In the Val d'Or no occasion for conviviality is neglected, even among the bourgeoisie, and indeed the inhabitants are so hospitably disposed that dinnerparties or déjeuners-priés are of VOL. CLXVIII.—NO. MXVII. frequent occurrence. At such festivities the fare is capital and the dishes numerous-the maîtresses-de-maison inheriting culinary skill from their mothers, and vying with each other in the practice of it, whilst their husbands take a pride in bringing out their best wines, which are duly appreciated. Once we were invited to a lunch, which was, as usual, very gay and the conversation animated-for if there is nothing æsthetic about the people, they are intelligent, talkative, and lively. One of the gentlemen was insisting on helping my mother to a glass of Volney, and could not understand why she declined such a rare luxury, so I had to tell him that my mother's doctor had forbidden her wine altogether. "Then," he exclaimed in great surprise, "that doctor does not know yet that wine is the milk for old age." The Val d'Oriens are very obliging, and a gracious custom of theirs deserves to be mentioned: it is the hospitality offered on the occasion of a wedding by the residents to the guests, even if they be perfect strangers, and though they themselves are not invited. At Chalon-sur-Saône, a few kilometres from Le Bourgneuf, the haute bourgeoisie send their private carriages to take wedding-parties to church and back again. I had many tokens of this obliging disposition of the people in my walks in search of new-laid eggs and clottedcream. If Gladie was sent on such errands, she generally came back empty-handed, for C these rarities are bespoken by resident families and kept for them; but when I went personally, the vigneronnes were too polite to refuse, though they said laughingly, "It's to oblige you, this time, but don't come again." And whenever I again made my appearance I had the same reception, and they were glad of a chat with me. They often put a little sly humour in their sayings. One said of a delicate kind of vine about her door, "Elle gèle de peu"; and another cheeringly comforted me when I had to go away in the rain with, "C'est seulement des gouttes mal attachées." My excursions in search of cream were necessitated by its scarcity in the village itself, for there are few milch-cows at Mercurey or in Le Bourgneuf owing to want of pastures. They are more generally kept on the hill-slopes, where there are-here and there-patches of grass, besides enclosed meadows. These small oases of green grass are always far apart, and well shaded by the dark and dense leafage of far-spreading walnuttrees, which, unlike other trees, thrive in this dry stony soil, and grow to magnificent proportions. It is curious that they should always be found in clumps of five or six on the same spot. The old women who look after the village goats always resort with their knitting to these shady retreats during the summer heats. They select a flat stone to sit upon, and, after laying their sabots aside, rest their bare feet in the velvety soft grass as in a cushion, and whilst with vigilant eyes they watch the dancing and bounding flock, the stocking in their hands lengthens slowly, but regularly. If any of the gamesome kids stray out of sight, the little brass horn at the woman's neck is sounded, and quickly brings back the runaway, jumping over shrubs and rocks. It is a picturesque sight the coming down-hill of these flocks in sobered procession when the twilight grows dim. They are guided by the horns of the ragged, old, witch-like women, each brandishing the knotty staff which now enforces order and submission, and now helps onwards her stiffened limbs. As an amusing contrast, we sometimes watched the return of a single cow escorted by its master on a bicycle-the slowness of the animal's pace allowing its driver to show off his skill in a series of remarkable curves backwards and forwards. For now the bicycle has penetrated to the very heart of the Val d'Or, and may be seen tearing along the road, and madly careering down the steep hilly slopes, ridden even by town ladies in knickerbockers -whose appearance is sure to draw the whole village out of doors, as it is quickly signalled from house to house as soon as detected. detected. Male cyclists do not awaken the same interest, because they are more numerous, many young men of the working class possessing a machine of some description, whilst no woman, not one, of the same class has dared hitherto to emulate the male sex in this respect. |