SEPTEMBER 



159 



after season our grapes excel in size and 

 in flavour. The Muscats remind me of 

 the grapes of Italy. Travelling along the 

 Corniche in days before railroads, grapes, 

 large and golden- green as these are, the 

 peasant people would bring to us and pour 

 into our laps, with green figs and china 

 roses all fresh and dewy. The quantity 

 of immense bunches that are gathered 

 out of our one small house, lasting up to 

 nearly Christmas, never fails to be a sur- 

 prise to me, although it is always the same 

 every year. 



