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CHAPTER XXIX. 



ON VITICULTUKE IN SPAIN AND POKTUGAL 



It is a pleasant contrast in the blazing month of July, 

 when one passes from the parched stubbles of the corn- 

 land, or the arid half-shade of the olirar, and enters upon 

 the green luxuriance of the vineyard. Eye and mind 

 are refreshed by that broad expanse of spreading vines 

 clothing hill and valley with their close-set trailing 

 verdure. 



Before us stands the somewhat pretentious gateway in 

 the fence of prickly-pear which surrounds the property — 

 a handsome wrought-iron lattice gate swung on stone 

 pillars which bear the inscription " Nuestra Sefiora de 

 Piedad,— -de Caridad," "Cruz Santa," or some such title. 

 Passing through, one walks waist-deep along a narrow path- 

 way amidst green vines. No need to ask which is Nature's 

 most favoured plant in this sunny land. Stand on one of 

 the Jerez hills at this season and look across the districts 

 of the Marcharnudo or Carrascal and see the triumph 

 of the vine. All other vegetation pants beneath the 

 pitiless sun; tree, shrub, and bush droop withered and 

 lifeless ; the grass and wild-flowers have disappeared from 

 off the face of the calcined earth, not a blossom remains ; 

 the bees have lost their employment, and already their 

 persecutors, the Bee-eaters, are departing for less torrid 

 regions. Yet all around lie thousands of acres of vines 

 in the full exuberance of life and vigour, drinking in 

 growth and increase from the very rays that are fatal to 

 all beside. Vine roots reach down very great depths 

 into the earth— roften twenty feet and more, the tap-roots 

 threading their- way through the slightest cracks or 



