The Vintage, in Medoc, near Bordeaux, 1854. Grape-picking in France. '"There are no idle spectators at a vintage, all the world must work; and so I speedily found myself - after being most cordially welcomed by a fat old gentleman, hoarse with bawling, in a pair of very dirty shirt sleeves and a pouring perspiration - with a huge pair of scissors in my hand, cutting off the branches, in the midst of an uproarious troop of young men, young women, and children - threading the avenues between the plants, stripping with wonderful dexterity the clustered branches - their hands, indeed, gliding, like dirty, yellow serpents, among the broad green leaves; and sometimes shouting out merry badinage, sometimes singing bits of strange rhythmed melody in chorus; and all the time, as far as the feat could be effected, eating the grapes by handfuls. The whole thing was very jolly"'. From "Illustrated London News", 1854.
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