The herald. [volume] (New Orleans, La.) 1905-1953, 1919-04-03

" WAS Une Vintage uine, anu
tried to forget that half Of Chris
tendon was plunged in Il great
war. Leaving the fighting line, /
wandered about in the lovely freedom
las which are surmised rather than
seen through the long vistas of grave,
still expresses and around smiling, sill
vergreen olive slopes from whose sum-
mits beckon dignified palace fortresses
Of the Medicis or sterner and more
cany correspondent of the New York
Evening Post. Finally, reached the
road OF my mornings quest and
stopped where a high wall. after many
turns and twists, suddenly opened to
a vision Of green terraces. 1t was the
gate to the podere upon which Ton
ino and his forebears have labored for
the last century and half-the fam
lily ''going to the land" not as serfs,
but as willing servants of the soil.
Entering the terraced farm, skirt
ed stout wall with Ivy spreading low
ingly over its gray stones; hedge OF
winter roses followed me In fragrant
companionship all the way to Touino's
farmhouse, structure poised bravely
over a precipitous ledge Of rocks.
The house itself might be called an
architectural slant of walls, chimneys,
stone flags and steps running of and
down In all directions till they seem to
merge with the vines and the olive
tree and the green sod. Fingered mo-
ment, then followed In the wake OF a
primitive oxcart, painted bright red,
on which the empty grape watts rumb-
bled generously as the Flooding beasts
dragged their draft over the stony
road.
Harvesting the Grape Crop.
L was a pagan-almost bacchanalisn
picture, as those huge cattle, white
and big-horned, moved slowly and pro-
cessionally down the way, flanked by
grape vines in endless, festive wreaths
and festoons strung from tree to tree.
At the lower terrace host Of neigh
bors was busuy at work cutting the
dew-noist grapes, dropping the lus-
cious punches into picturesque bas-
kets lying all about. The sun played
In glad, shifting shadows IN and out
of the vines and olive trees, while the
damp soil, drinking in the solar
warmth, exuded q moisture heavhy
odorous with the Astounding vitality
Of Mother Earth.
The harvesters included many wom-
en-. some territorial soldiers on leave
and q few children. No one, old or
young, gave signs Of fatigue the labor
was pursued slowly and easily, not at
all as a struggle In overcoming time,
or resistance. It was this seeming
siowness of the lsborers In Italy which
often gives to the outsider, especially
to the nervous and strenuous Amer.
en- observer, the impression Of q
wastage of time In the accomplishment
of things. This apparent siowness
however, Is rather q wise restraint and
distribution Of effort. coupled with ira.
ditional skill or special hardness
which bring about results by deftness
as we'll as by mere expenditure OF
force.
Sc, at this harvesting. all OF that
crowded, terraced acreage had been
shorn Of It's grapes by shutdown, and
all the fruit carried away to the wan<
| press.
Supper for TonIso's Laborsrs.
At nine in the evening we gathered
at Tonino's house for the harvest sup
| per, to which, by immemorial custom
everyone who has labored in the vine
yards must be invited. We entered by
the kitchen door, near which hung 6
little oil lamp patterned after thoss
Of the Etruscans; at the long table II
tie main room Of this casa colonies
sat three generations Of harvesters-
q men, women and children.
A warm, soothing, natural" odor o
oxen and stable came thinly and no
unpleasantly into the feast chamber
which had that dignity Of proportion
and fine simplicity Of lines which
speaks OF Tuscan taste, even In thes'
humble quarters. A light hung from
the center Of the ceiling threw rath
er dim illumination over the festiv
board, but amply sufficient for US +
see all the good things which awaite'
our impending attack. First soup wa
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