The Helena independent. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1875-1943, 1890-09-28

the steep slopes to secure the soil from
falling, they disfgure the landscape: bu
when one is once among them and tn.
leaves, turning russell, rise waist high anl
the smell OF the heavy clusters fills the air
then one, too, counts the hours of sunshine
and waits for the ingatherinR.
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 baskets and
scissors: With all my heart long to join
kerchiefs tied over their heads and the,
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
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.
them.
Before O'Clock in the morning the girls
are in the vineyards. The married women
have risen 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 Eng
!ish-to set boiling. Barely bit is eaten
before, men and women together. they are
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 hillside he goes back to
snatch another nap before sunrise. At
O'clock there comes 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 q little.
The young men lean over the walls and per-
haps there's bit of counting. Some of the
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 noun
tain ash burn bright, and the feathery clus-
ters of the wild clematis hang 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 nine O'Clock the bell of the church be-
gins to ring. This tells the grape gatherers
that the hour of leisure is over and the cut
ting OF the punches 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, ''Gesei-
CERT gel der Rhein,'' ("Blessed be the
hhlne). i is not what you would call
hoarse and rough, but it grows ever quicker
and fuller in volume, and it seems to carry
the very spirit of the vintage. It is impos-
slble to stay indoors; one must 90 out and
look and listen. There is q stronp-waisted.
yellow-haired girl of 10, whose yocie rises
above the others. She is merry girl with
blue eyes, . goOd-lookinG, muscular peas
ant, and she leads the chorus:
Who're the mountains bear the vine.
And the vine bears golden wine.
Hear it again. There are twosoore voices
singing:
NQr am Rheine will ich trinken
Mnen echten ceufschen TranE
Und so lang nOch t,laser winken.
Tone laut linn Lob und Dank,
When the laughter and the song are
!oudest the chrrcn bells ring IL. This 10
me si&neI Tor going home. In fifteen min
uteo to6 noon nreS are burning and potatoes
are boiling for the substantial meal of the
day. There is no meat to the dinner, for
the wages even the vintage waRes-will
not buy IT, but milk and potatoes are set
out ana the house tidied. and at one O'Clock
the bells call men, women Enss children
again to the hills. There are no clocks in
the houses, and thAchurch bells keep tho
reckoning of tke ldborers' dav. The out
ting begun againit Il not long before q |
vineyard Is cleared, and bare and des0late |
It looks indeed, like house you have lived
IN Tor years when y0u have moved out the |
furniture. The jollity Of the vintage runs
highest in tbs afternoon. The climax |
conps at four O'Clock, When tho bells an
nounce another rest and bread eating.
Unde. the plum tpees there is q babel Of !
voices rustic lover sits openly with his |
arm about his sveetheart's waist, and ION |