The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1890-09-28
GOLDEN VINTAGE DAYS
WITH THE GRAPE CATERERS
ALONG THE RHINE.


| women in the Vineyards-They Cut
the punches With Scissors and She
| Who Sings Loudest Soonest Gets a
Husband-Wages at Sixteen Cents a
Day.
| Copyright.
| BACHARACH, Sept lS-The summer
visitors have gone and this old world VII
lage, past which flows the Rhine and over
which frown the ruins of the Castle of
Stahleck, sleeps in the sunshine that has
ripened It's grapes for 50 many hundreds of
years. One forgets for while the railroads
and the telephones and the modern hotels
ana other nineteenth century innovations,
and goes back to the days of armored
knights and crusaders as one walks its mar
row streets between its picturesque old
houses with their quaint wooden beams, and
looks up at the gray towers on the crag,
from which still descend the stout old town
walls bristling with tall watch towers and
circling us round with their protection, as
If at any moment the alarm bells might
ring and the counts palatine summon their
vassals 60 man the defenses against the
knights of Furstenherg, whose battlements
one can see from the river side, and who
| once had the audacity to stop even the YES
sci of king to levy Rhine toll.
But the villagers fear not, and the women
from the Steeger Thai, the green and mar
| row valley behind the ancient little town.
come driving their donkey carts aid their
teams of cows through the stone gateways,
sculptu ed with men at arms and strange
| animals, early in the morning. for another
| purpose than behind bulwarks to seek ref
uge. In the bare little platZ in front of the
church-it is a TempIars church of the
twelfth century-they sit surrounded by
| great baskets piled up with piums, red to-
matoes, peaches, pears, white and purple
grapes, hazenuts and every kind of vege-
| table. Here is cart drawn by n yoke of
| huge white oxen, with a picture Of the Vir-
gin painted on one of its panels; there a
| group OF women in vari-colored headker-
| chiefs, carrying on their backs great oval
milk tirkins. 1t is she market, and with its
| back ground of gray wills and round Ro-
manesque arches, in the hazy light OF an
autumn sunrise, it makes busy scene in
| hamlet full of strange corners.
There is an air of expectation over every
thing. The stolid looking men and the
bare-armed girls talk with animation aud
| gesticulate as they look UP at the sky. The
great event of the year is approaching: it is
| almost time for the vintage. When the sun
| comes out warm they say: Zach, the grapes
| ike thisw When the clouds gather they
look grave; IF only it does not thunder;
| after thunderstorm comes cold weather"
| Eight hundred years ago the wine of Bach
arach was noted. Pope Plus II. used to
| have a cask of 1t sent to Rome every autumn
and Nuremberg held its freedom on pay
ment or four tons of it in yearly tribute to
| the Emperor Wenzel For alls these CEN
turtles Bacharach has dreaded the autumn
| rains.
The hillsides about the village are terraced
| and not square foot but bears its wire. The
vineyards are dreary thiags to look at from
| a distance. less picturesque than fields of
hops or beans. in that tho poles are short
| and the grapes are not allowed to fling about
| their tendrils. With their straight monoto-
nous rows. broken by cross lines of walls and
arches built against the steep slopes to secure
the soil from falling, they disfgure the
landscape; but when one is once among
them, and the leaves. turning russell. rise
waist high, and the smell of the heavy clus-
tiers fills the air. then one, TOO, counts the
| hours of sunshine and waits for the ingath-
ering.
At last comes the morning. The grapes
OF Bacharach are white, and they have
hung until they are full Of juice and thin
skinned. To-day begins the autumn festi--
| val The girls 60 out with basket and
scissors. With ali my heart 1 long to Join
them. They have green and red and white
| kerchiefs tied over their heads, and they
wear short blue skirts that stop far above
their wooden shoes. Bending, they cut the
punches and sort them. These are for the
best wine, those for the second, and the
Others for the third quality. Quickly the
baskets fill and the men go up and down
the rows lifting them on their heads and
carrying them out ready for the presses
| There Is a hard and fast line drawn between
the women's work and that of the men, No
boy will cut grapes; he will only carry
| them.
before 5 o'clock in the morning the girls
are in the vineyards. The married women
have arisen by $3.50 or 4. There is the COW
| to milk and feed and the coffee pot-these
| Germans are not tea drinkers like the En-
| glish-to SO boiling. Barely bite is eaten
| before, men and women together, they are
at the gate of the master of the vineyard.
He comes down from his chamber to set
them their tasks with the sleep not rubbed
| out of his eyes. When they have started in
the dawn up the hillsides he goes back to
latch another nap before sunrise. At s
| O'Clock there comes a pause in the
| labor. The girls cluster in groups
under the plum trees Each
has her bit of black bread to eat, and as she
breaks it she passes her joke or bit of merry
gossip with her neighbor. Their faces are
brown and flushed little. The young men
lean over the walls and perhaps there's bit
of counting. Some of the girls bring out
great balls of yarn from their pockets and
half-knitted stockings. The old women
they look rheumatic-bask like lizards in
the sunshine. And the air is full of the
sound of locusts, and the red berries of the
mountain ash burn bright, and the feathery
clusters of the wild clematis bangs on every
thing. There are clouds of blue butterflies
over the vines, and in the pauses of the
laughter one can hear the leaves dropping.
At 9 o'clock the bells of the church begin
to ring. This tells the grape gatherers that
the hour of leisure is over and the cutting
of the lunches must begin again. The sun
is getting high and it warns their veins.
From my window hear them sing. Over
and over comes the refrain, "Geseigert sci
der Rheia," c'Blessed be the Rhine'1. 1t is
not what you would call musical singing
Some Of the voices are hoarse and rough,
but grows ever quicker and fuller in
volume, and 1t seems TO carry the very spirit
of tie vintage. 1t is impossible to stay
Indoors; one must go out and look and
, listen. There is sturdy. strong wasted,
yellow haired girl of IS, whose voice rises
above the Others She is q merry girl with