The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1896-08-30

fashioned. sloping. double door. These
doors are always open. and a cool smell
OF damp straw. favored with vinegar from
a ieaky keg. greets you as you descend
into its recesses. on the hard. earthen floor
rest eight or ten great casks. The walls
are lined with bottles. large and small,
loaded on shelves. to which little white
cards are tackled. giving the vintage and
brand.' In the first of the Mosemiller cell
lars at least a dozen large casks lie on
their sides. with purplish foam exuding
from their bungs. These contain the new
wine, which is in the stage called work
ing off," and is not considered fit for So
ciety under a year. Down the other short
flight of steps is the cellar of the old wine.
red and white, almost any age hat may
be mentioned. From fifty 10 seventy-fve
varieties of grapes thrive in this vineyard.
and the visiting stroller among the vines
has an interesting time sampling the vari-
Gus kinds and discovering how much of
such fruit the average capacity will en-
dure. On the very crest of the western
hill are a number of rows Of French
grapes, nurtured with care and cherished
with an affection for the old world beyond
seas.
Aside from the wine-making. which is
the prominent interest this month. side
issues of the delightsome countryside are
on every hand. In a thrifty little kitchen
garden, a fine United States horse is pull
ing the pillow and undergoing lively exc
Grafton for his waywardness, in pointed
French CALCULATIONS from his stout little
black-mustached plowmaster. Behind the
horse beautiful flower beds. g~uiltless OF
weeds, are fragrant with roses, heliotrope
and other lavish bloom. A tiny foot bridge,
with a hand-rail. leads across a bit of a
stream to the young orchard, where picnic
parties love 10 lay the cloth and open the
heavy hamper. Around a bend in the lane
are deep ravines where sunrise and sunset
gid only the treetops; fine. shady hooks
for a book" and, also, we are told, for
snakes" On the other hillside are the his
toric garlic beds and rubbish heaps of poor
Gilbert Vestizaint, the French hermit, who
owned forty acres of land. but died poor,
leaving to the world only a pathetic MEM
DRY, and an old valise containing six dol
lars and the portrait of a pretty French
girl.
While the Mosemiller wine harvests
show careful cultivation, unceasing care
and continual labor. a ''pastime alr"-an
appearance Of being, really. only an inter
lude in life, a pleasant summer diversion
must always pervade the place to those
who come but as guests for a day. The
family which. in the months of bloom and
fruitage, dwell in this vineyard home. has.
during the winter, as absorbing interests
elsewhere. Prof. Carl Mosemiller is an hon
ored instructor in the New Albany Ger
man-English school, and also leader Of a
German study club of social prominence.
Miss Mosemiller is teacher of Latin in the
New Albany High School, and Prof. Albert
Mosemiller has a position in Bloomington
University. By an interesting chance, Prof.
Edwin S. Hopkins, writer and educator,
has a summer log cabin in this same for
est corner, and on the same shady lane
which leads to the Gony-Mosemiller vine
yards. EMMA CARLETON.
New Albany, Ind.