went in and witnessed the performance. On entering, I found much difficulty in getting through the

Such a delightful season in winter seemed like reversing the order of nature. The crowd which came pouring out of the city was immense, and as check-crowd, but by dint of a good deal of pushing and elered in appearance as ever made pilgrimage to the shrine of a saint. From their appearance there were all sorts and conditions of persons, and every class of the proud capital was fully represented, ranging from the caballero to the lepero. Here might be seen an elegant carriage, drawn by sleek-looking mules, whose smiling inmates looked the very personification of luxury and ease-there came a rude, country cart, lined with raw hide and filled with the family of some poor ranchero, drawn by a raw-boned ox made fast by thongs around his horns-here ambled by a crowd of donkey cavalry, whose riders, with feet trailing on the ground, urged the animals forward in hot haste toward the scene of festivitiesthen thousands came on foot, some carrying children strapped to their backs, some bending under loads of nick-knacks for sale. Men, women and children, mules, donkeys and dogs, were all mingled together in one throng, and the noise of confused sounds reminded me somewhat of a modern Babel on a small scale. Among this mottled group were many American officers, in their neat uniforms and mounted on prancing steeds. On each side of the road, up to the very gates of Gaudalupé, booths were erected for the sale of cakes, drinks and sweat meats, and where all kinds of buffoonery were being performed; gambling tables were numerous, loaded with shining coin, and here and there I noticed pits for cock-fighting, with anxious crowds assembled round to witness the cruel sport, and bets seemed running high on the favorite chickens. The whole assemblage seemed enjoying and amusing themselves to the utmost of their capacity in eating and drinking, gambling and dancing. The dancers were assembled under the shade of the wide-spreading trees, where, to the music of the harp and guitar, they performed their national dances with much spirit, dressed in the romantic costume of the country. Inside the inclosure where the sacred edifice stands, was a perfect jam of men, women and children, old and young, white, yellow and black, greasy and well-clad, who had come up here to do honor to the saint who rules over their destinies.

When I arrived at the gate leading into the inclosure where the performance was to take place, the procession of the Host was passing, and if it had not been a religious ceremony, I could not have prevented myself from laughing loud, the scene was so ludicrous and ridiculous. The image of the Virgin was borne aloft on a pole, followed by a number of priests in their stove-pipe hats and sacred vestments -then came a platoon of filthy-looking soldiers, with a band of music playing some national air, the whole brought up in the rear by a crowd of "red spirits and white, blue spirits and gray," shooting squibs and hallooing at the top of their voices. It reminded me much more of a Fourth of July celebration, or a militia training in a frontier settlement of the United States, than a religious festival. Dismounting, I gave my horse to a soldier standing near, to hold, while I

bowing, and also rapping a few stubborn, greasylooking fellows over the shins with my sabre, who were slow to make room, I at last reached the door of the sacred edifice. The crowd was as dense within as without, and it seemed wholly impossible to be able to enter; beside, an odor, not as pleasant as the otter of roses, arose from the assemblage. These considerations were sufficient to induce me to turn back and retrace my steps. This was no easy matter, as the crowd had closed up again immediately, and I found myself in as dense a throng as ever. However, return I must, and putting full faith in the old adage, "That where there is a will there is a way," 1 set about the matter in good earnest, and in a short time I found myself at the point from which I had started. I again mounted my horse, but was uncertain which way to turn. Just then, I was joined by two officers of my regiment, who proposed to ride round the base of the hill toward the left, and if possible, ascend it on horseback. We spurred our horses through the crowd, which opened to let us pass, and turning to the right, rode along the base until we had reached a point nearly opposite to the place from which we started. The hill of Tapeyac is some six or eight hundred feet in height, and is a mass of rocks of igneous origin, the surface being quite smooth and bare of vegetation. It rises up from the plain abruptly, and is steep in its most sloping part. We found the ascent much more difficult than we had anticipated, and it required a great deal of hard labor to get up it. We kept in the saddle for some distance, but at last were obliged to dismount and lead our horses up the steep slope. It was really painful to see the poor animals struggle up the smooth surface of the rock, and now and then it seemed almost impossible for them to keep their footing. Thus we labored upward, and at last stood upon the summit, when man and beast rested from their toil. And while we sat down, holding in our hands the reins of the faithful animals, we looked abroad upon the varied scene below us and enjoyed the beautiful prospect. It was really magnificent, and fully repaid us for the toil we had in ascending. The elevation of our position brought under our view the famous valley of Mexico for many miles in every direction. To the south lay the city, with the bright sun shining in gilded rays upon the steeples and cupolas of the cathedral and churches, giving them almost the appearance of burnished gold and silver. More distant, in the same direction, the two snow-capped mountains of Popocatapetl and Ixtaccihuatl loomed up in stern grandeur into the clear, blue sky, and stood out from all their fellows in beautiful relief. To the left, the eye swept over the sparkling surface of lake Pezcoca, which washes the eastern barrier that shuts in this fair Eden of the New World. Nearer, to the front and to the right, the eye rests upon a wide expanse of plain, variegated with cultivated fields, with their irrigating ditches, like threads of silver, meandering through

them. Here and there flocks and herds were graz- | Above the altar, at the east end of the church, in a ing on the verdant pasture, or seeking the shade of frame-work of solid gold, is an image of the Virgin as the trees to shield them from the sun. Such, in a large as life Her dress is spangled with precious few words, is the nature of the beautiful landscape stones, and inside the frame are strips of gold runwhich opened to our view from the rocky summit ning the whole length, thickly studded with diawhere we were seated, and for the reader fully to monds, pearls, and emeralds-golden rays issue from appreciate it, he must be aware of the freshness and each side, and suspended above it is a silver dove as enchantment the balmy air and crystal skies of that large as an eagle. The altar is of finely polished elime lend to every scene. We enjoyed it to the marble, and highly ornamented, and in front runs a utmost stretch of human capacity to enjoy the beau- railing of silver. On both sides of the middle aisle, ties of nature, and as we descended the rocky mount, extending from the altar to the choir, some sixty feet, so loth were we to have it shut from our sight, that is a railing covered with pure silver half an inch in we cast "many a longing, lingering look behind," thickness. In addition to these, there are many ere we reached the level of the plain. silver lamps suspended from the ceilings, silver candlesticks before and around the altar, and some of the sacred desks are beautifully wrought in the precious metals. The choir is made of a beautiful dark wood, richly carved and ornamented, and the ceiling is supported by several marble pillars, highly polished, and of great beauty. As we crossed the threshold, the rich, deep tone of the organ, accom

On nearly the highest point, on the spot where the Indian is said to have plucked the roses, a small church has been erected, which tradition says, sprung up out of the rock in a single night. It is a darklooking stone building, built in the heavy Spanish style of two centuries ago. It is reached from below by a winding stairway, cut in the solid rock, considerably crumbled by time, and worn by the foot-panied by the sound of many voices chanting a song steps of the thousands who pass up to worship at the shrine of their favorite saint. We entered the sacred edifice, and found it thronged with devotees, mostly half-naked Indians, who had come from the mountains and valleys beyond, on this their annual pilgrimage to the Mecca of their spiritual hopes, and who, like the devout Moslem who yearly kneels at the tomb of his Prophet, having finished his mission, is ready to lie down and die. They jostled and pushed each other in their anxiety to approach the altar and touch the garments of the image of the Virgin, and deposit their offering of money in the dish ready to receive it. Parents, anxious that their little ones should behold the great saint, lifted them up over the head of the multitude, and at a given signal the whole assemblage prostrated themselves on the hard paved floor to receive the blessing of the good father who ministered there. The poor Indians gazed in mute astonishment at all they saw, but to them the riddle was not to be solved, they were taught to believe, not to inquire. When they had deposited their offerings, and received a blessing, they turned away to make room for others who were continually pressing on.

Turning away from this scene, we led our horses down the stone stairway into the inclosure below. The crowd was not so dense as before, and we new found no difficulty in making our way through. Giving our horses to a Mexican to hold, we entered the sacred edifice dedicated to the Virgin of Gaudalupe. The building was yet crowded with people, and the high dignitaries of the church were performing some solemn ceremony, commemorative of the occasion. In appearance this church is by far the most magnificent one I was in, in Mexico. It seemed almost one blaze of gold and silver in the bright sunlight which streamed through the windows, and played upon the rich decorations. The whole ceiling, and especially the dome, is painted in the most beautiful fresco, and so life-like are the images, that they appear almost to speak from the panels.

of praise, swelled beneath the lofty dome, and impressed the listeners with feelings of reverence and thanksgiving. The building was odorous with the perfume of the scattered incense which had a few minutes before been cast abroad over the worshipers, and numerous priests, in their rich robes, were ministering around the altar. The anxious gazing multitude, within the temple, seemed fully impressed with the solemnity of the occasion, and conducted themselves with much propriety. We remained there a short time, and then returned to the yard to look at one or two objects of interest before we rode back to the city. Not far from the church is a "holy well," over which a small chapel has been erected. The water is supposed to be sacred, and to have the power of healing wounds and preserving all who are touched by it. Crowds were gathered there, some dipping the tips of their fingers in, and crossing themselves, others appying a handful to the face, while some of the anxious mothers plunged their dirty children in, in order that the influence of the holy water might be sure to spread throughout the whole system, that is, if the dirt of the little urchins did not prevent it from penetrating. Being now tired of Gaudalupé, and the dirty crowd we met there, we rode out of the inclosure, and galloped down the causeway toward Mexico, where we arrived in time to dine.

Having indulged in a short siesta, I again mounted my horse toward evening, and in company with General C., rode to the Alemeda and Passeo Nuevo. The Alemeda is a public square, in the western part of the city, planted with trees and shrubbery, adorned with shady avenues, fountains and statuary, and beautifully laid out in walks and drives. It contains about ten acres, and is the most pleasant place of resort in or near the city. The shrubbery is kept neatly trimmed and attended with great care, and is odorous the live-long year with the perfume of opening flowers. The trees clothed in their perpetual green foliage are fairly alive with birds of bright

plumage and sweet song, which carol their morning | tain, which spouts four jets of water. Seats are and evening hymns free from harm. In the centre placed at intervals along each side of the drive, and of the square is a large fountain, surmounted by the opposite to the fountain, for the accommodation of Goddess of Liberty, which spouts pure water high foot people. Here all the world of Mexico may be up in the air, and at its base crouch four lions, from seen toward evening, on a bright afternoon, in carwhose mouths spout up smaller jets, A semicircular riages and on horseback, and a lively, animated row of seats surrounds the fountain, and the surface scene it presents. Rich equipages glitter in the deof the space within is paved with large flat stones, clining sun, noble steeds, superbly caparisoned, and laid in tasteful figures. From this point the paths ridden by gay caballeros, proudly prance along, and and gravel-walks radiate in every direction, which beauty smiles upon every beholder. Everybody who are again met by others running from other centres, can command any kind of a vehicle drives to the the point where they cross being adorned by smaller Passeo, and sometimes it is so much crowded, as to fountains. In pleasant weather hundreds of children be quite difficult to drive or ride along it. The assemble in this charming place in the afternoon, and equipages which throng this path of fashion are amuse themselves with their innocent gambols in the various, and some of them are quite unique; and it shade of the wide-spreading trees. Hither the beauty is not uncommon to see the elegant turn-out of the and fashion of the capital, who seek pleasure on foot, English minister, side by side with a common country resort toward evening, to promenade through the cart, lined with oxhide, and drawn by a poor old shady avenues. There the student carries his book, apology for a horse that would hardly dare to look a and, in some quiet secluded corner, apart from the vulture in the face. Yet both parties are enjoying fashionable world which rejoices around him, he themselves in the fashionable world. The custom sits alone and pursues his favorite study; and there of this drive is somewhat peculiar, which all follow also the lovers repair at the enchanting hour of even- to the very letter of the law; it is to drive the full tide, and whisper anew their vows of faith and con-length twice, stop in the centre opposite the fountain stancy. A numerous throng were gathered there, enjoying themselves in many ways, apparently unmindful that "grim visaged war" had erected his shrine in their beautiful city, and that foreign soldiery were overlooking them on the corner of every street. We rode through these shady avenues and then passed out at the south-west angle into Passeo Nuevo, with the crowd which moved that way. This is one of the fashionable and most frequented public drives of the city; it is a beautifully McAdamized road, half a mile in length, planted on each side with fine shade-trees, and adorned in the centre by a foun- | effect upon the spiritual or moral man.

to salute your friends, as they pass by, and then return home. To show our knowledge of the fashionable world, we conformed as nearly as possible to the ways of those who were initiated into the mysteries of the Passeo, and thereby, no doubt, passed for current coin. We spent one hour thus, in seeing and being seen, pleased with the animated scene we had witnessed, and then returned to our quarters. Thus I passed my first Sunday in the city of the Montezumas, and although not as religiously kept as would have been done at home, it had no evil

THE VINTAGE.

BY A. B. REACH.

[WITH AN ENGRAVING.]

LET us to the joyous ingathering of the fruits of | twisted like turbans over straggling elf-locks-
the earth-the great yearly festival and jubilee of the
property and the labor of Medoc. October is
the joyous "wine month." For weeks, every
cloud in the sky has been watched-every cold
night-breeze felt with nervous apprehension. Upon
the last bright weeks in summer, the savor and the
bouquet of the wine depend. Warmed by the blaze
of an unclouded sun, fanned by the mild breezes of
the west, and moistened by morning and evening
dews, the grapes by slow degrees attain their perfect
ripeness and their culminating point of flavor. Then
the vintage implements begin to be sought out,
cleaned, repaired, and scoured and sweetened with
hot brandy. Coopers work as if their lives depended
upon their industry; and all the anomalous tribe of
lookers-out for chance jobs in town and country pack
up their bag and baggage, and from scores of miles
around pour in ragged regiments into Medoc.

There have long existed pleasing, and in some sort poetical, associations connected with the task of securing for human use the fruits of the earth; and to no species of crop do these picturesque associations apply with greater force than to the ingathering of the ancient harvest of the vine. From time immemorial, the season has typified epochs of plenty and mirthful-heartedness-of good fare and of good-will. The ancient types and figures descriptive of the vintage are still literally true. The march of agricultural improvement seems never to have set foot amid the vines. As it was with the patriarchs in the East, so it is with the modern children of men. The goaded ox still bears home the high-pressed grape-tub, and the feet of the trader are still red in the purple juice which maketh glad the heart of man. The scene is at once full of beauty, and of tender and even sacred associations. The songs of the vintagers frequently chorussed from one part of the field to the other, ring blithely into the bright summer air, pealing out above the rough jokes and hearty peals of laughter shouted hither and thither. All the green jungle is alive with the moving figures of men and women, stooping among the vines or bearing pails and basket-fulls of grapes out to the grass-grown cross-roads, along which the laboring oxen drag the rough vintage carts, groaning and cracking as they stagger along beneath their weight of purple tubs heaped high with the tumbling masses of luscious fruit. The congregation of every age and both sexes, and the careless variety of costume, add additional features of picturesqueness to the scene. The white-haired old man labors with shaking hands to fill the basket which his black-eyed imp of a grandchild carries rejoicingly away. Quaint broad-brimmed straw and felt hats-handkerchiefs

swarthy skins tanned to an olive-brown-black,
flashing eyes-and hands and feet stained in the
abounding juices of the precious fruit-all these
southern peculiarities of costume and appearance
supply the vintage with its pleasant characteristics.
The clatter of tongues is incessant. A fire of jokes
and jeers, of saucy questions, and more saucy re-
torts-of what, in fact, in the humble and unpoetic
but expressive vernacular, is called "chaff"-is kept
up with a vigor which seldom flags, except now and
then, when the but-end of a song, or the twanging
close of a chorus strikes the general fancy, and pro-
cures for the morceau a lusty encore. Meantime,
the master wine-grower moves observingly from
rank to rank. No neglected bunch of fruit escapes
his watchful eye. No careless vintager shakes the
precious berries rudely upon the soil, but he is
promptly reminded of his slovenly work. Some-
times the tubs attract the careful superintendent.
He turns up the clusters to ascertain that no leaves
nor useless length of tendril are entombed in the juicy
masses, and anon directs his steps to the pressing-
trough, anxious to find that the lusty treaders are per-
severing manfully in their long-continued dance.

Thither we will follow. The wine-press, or
cuvier de pressoir, consists, in the majority of cases,
of a massive shallow tub, varying in size from four
square feet to as many square yards. It is placed
either upon wooden tressels or on a regularly built
platform of mason-work under the huge rafters of a
substantial out-house. Close to it stands a range of
great butts, their number more or less, according to
the size of the vineyard. The grapes are flung by
tub and caskfulls into the cuvier. The treaders stamp
diligently amid the masses, and the expressed juice
pours plentifully out of a hole level with the bottom
of the trough into a sieve of iron or wicker-work,
which stops the passage of the skins, and from thence
drains into tubs below. Suppose, at the moment of
our arrival, the cuvier for a brief space empty. The
treaders-big, perspiring men, in shirts and tucked-
up trowsers-spattered to the eyes with splatches
of purple juice, lean upon their wooden spades, and
wipe their foreheads. But their respite is short.
The creak of another cart-load of tubs is heard, and
immediately the wagon is backed up to the broad,
open window, or rather hole in the wall, above the
trough. A minute suffices to wrench out tub after
tub, and to tilt their already half-mashed clusters
splash into the reeking pressoir. Then to work
again. Jumping with a sort of spiteful eagerness
into the mountain of yielding, quivering fruit, the
treaders sink almost to the knees, stamping and jump-
ing and rioting in the masses of grapes, as fountains

29

upon any thing like a detailed account of winemaking. I may only add, that the refuse skins, stalks, and so forth, which settle into the bottom of the fermentation vats, are taken out again after the wine has been drawn off, and subjected to a new squeezing —in a press, however, and not by the foot-the products being a small quantity of fiery, ill-flavored wine, full of the bitter taste of the seeds and stalks of the grape, and possessing no aroma or bouquet. The Bordeaux press for this purpose is rather ingeniously constructed. It consists of a sort of a skeleton of a cask, strips of daylight shining through from top to bottom between the staves. In the centre works a strong perpendicular iron screw. The rape, as the refuse of the treading is called, is piled beneath it; the screw is manned capstan fashion, and the unhappy seeds, skins and stalks, undergo a most dismal squeezing. Nor do their trials end there. The wine-makers are terrible hands for getring at the very last get-at-able drop. To this end, somewhat on the principle of rinsing an exhausted spirit-bottle, so as, as it were, to catch the very flavor still clinging to the glass, they plunge the doubly-squeezed rape into water, let it lie there for a short time, and then attack it with the press again. The result is a horrible stuff called piquette, which, in a wine country, bears the same resemblance to wine as the very dirtiest, most wishy-washy, and most contemptible of swipes bears to honest porter or ale. Piquette, in fact, may be defined as the ghost of wine!-wine minus its bones, its flesh, and its soul ! a liquid shadow!-a fluid nothing!--an utter negation of all comfortable things and associations! Nevertheless, however, the peasants swill it down in astounding quantities, and apparently with sufficient satisfaction.

of juice spurt about their feet, and rush bubbling and gurgling away. Presently, having, as it were, drawn the first sweet blood of the new cargo, the eager tramping subsides into a sort of quiet, measured dance, which the treaders continue, while, with their wooden spades, they turn the pulpy remnants of the fruit hither and thither, so as to expose the half-squeezed berries in every possible way to the muscular action of the incessantly moving feet. All this time the juice is flowing in a continuous stream into the tubs beneath. When the jet begins to slacken, the heap is well tumbled with the wooden spades, and, as though a new force had been applied, the juice-jet immediately breaks out afresh. It takes, perhaps, half or three-quarters of an hour thoroughly to squeeze the contents of a good-sized cuvier, sufficiently manned. When at length, however, no further exertion appears to be attended with corresponding results, the tubfulls of expressed juice are carried by means of ladders to the edges of the vats, and their contents tilted in; while the men in the trough, setting-to with their spades, fling the masses of dripping grape-skins in along with the juice. The vats sufficiently full, the fermentation is allowed to commence In the great cellars in which the juice is stored, the listener at the door-he cannot brave the carbonic acid gas to enter further-may hear, solemnly echoing in the cool shade of the great darkened hall, the bubblings and seethings of the working liquid-the inarticulate accents and indistinct rumblings which proclaim that a great metempsychosis is taking place-that a natural substance is rising higher in the eternal scale of things, and that the contents of these great giants of vats are becoming changed from floods of mere mawkish, sweetish fluid to noble wine-to a liquid honored and esteemed in all ages-to a medicine exercising a strange and potent effect upon body and soul-great for good and evil. Is there not something fanciful and poetic in the notion of this change taking place mys-Champagne, the grapes for which are squeezed by teriously in the darkness, when all the doors are locked and barred for the atmosphere about the vats is death -as if Nature would suffer no idle prying into her mystic operations, and as if the grand transmutation and projection from juice to wine had in it something of a secret and solemn and awful nature-fenced round, as it were, and protected from vulgar curiosity by the invisible halo of stifling gas? I saw the vats in the Château Margaux cellars the day after the grape-juice had been flung in. Fermentation had not as yet properly commenced, so access to the place was possible; still, however, there was a strong vinous smell loading the atmosphere, sharp and subtle in its influence on the nostrils; while, putting my ear, on the recommendation of my conductor, to the vats, I heard, deep down, perhaps eight feet down in the juice, a seething, gushing sound, as if currents and eddies were beginning to flow, in obedience to the influence of the working Spirit, and now and then a hiss and a low bubbling throb, as though of a pot about to boil. Within twenty-four hours, the cellar would be unapproachable.

Of course, it is quite foreign to my plan to enter

And now a word as to wine-treading. The process is universal in France, with the exception of the cases of the sparkling wines of the Rhone and

mechanical means, not by the human foot. Now, very venerable and decidedly picturesque as is the process of wine-treading, it is unquestionably rather a filthy one; and the spectacle of great brown, horny feet, not a whit too clean, splashing and sprawling in the bubbling juice, conveys, at first sight, a qualmy species of feeling, which, however, seems only to be entertained by those to whom the sight is new. I looked dreadfully askance at the operation when I first came across it; and when I was invited-by a lady, too-to taste the juice, of which she caught up a glassfull, a certain uncomfortable feeling of the inward man warred terribly against politeness. But nobody around seemed to be in the least squeamish. Often and often did I see one of the heroes of the tub walk quietly over a dunghill, and then jumpbarefooted, of course, as he was-into the juice; and even a vigilant proprietor, who was particularly careful that no bad grapes went into the tub, made no objection. When I asked why a press was not used, as more handy, cleaner, and more convenient, I was everywhere assured that all efforts had failed to construct a wine-press capable of performing the