IV. 



THE VINEYARDS OF THE WEST. 



August, 1850. 



sit under our own vine and fig-tree, with no one to make us 

 afraid, is the most ancient and sacred' idea of a life of security, 

 contentment, and peace. In a national sense, we think we may be- 

 gin to lay claim to this species of comfort, so largely prized by our 

 ancestors of the patriarchal ages. The southern States have long 

 boasted their groves and gardens of fig-trees ; and there is no longer 

 any doubt regarding the fact, that the valley of the Ohio, with its 

 vine-clad hills, will soon afford a resting-place for millions of cultiva- 

 tors, who may sit down beneath the shadow of their own vines, 

 with none to make them afraid. 



There has been so much " stuff," of all descriptions, made in va- 

 rious parts of the country under the name of domestic wine ninety- 

 nine hundredths of which is not half so good or so wholesome as 

 poor cider that most persons whose palates are accustomed to the 

 fine products of France, Spain, or Madeira, have, after tasting of the 

 compounds alluded to, concluded that it was either a poor piece of 

 patriotism, or a bad joke, this trying to swallow American wine. 



On the other hand, various enterprising Frenchmen, observing 

 that the climate of a large part of the Union ripened peaches and 

 other fruits better than their own country, naturally concluded that 

 if they brought over the right kinds of French wine grapes, wine 

 must be produced here as good as that made at home. Yet, though 

 the experiment has been tried again and again by practical vigne- 

 rons, who know the mysteries of cultivation, and wine merchants 



