learned and peculiar method. The red leaves
of the Teinturier, or Dyer grape, so called
because its ruby juice stains whatever it
drops upon, are gathered as astringents; and
the herboristes of Paris, rather a numerous
body of tradesmen, find it worth their while
to dry them for sale. In short, whether vitis,
a vine, is derived from vita, life; or vita, life,
from vitis, a vine, there is one fact that
etymologists can never unsettle; namely, that vitis
vinifera is the most vivifying vegetable that
grows. Raisinland, besides, has plenty of
truffles; the diamonds of the kitchen, according
to Brillat-Savarin; toadstools and creosote,
according to me. Another delicacy is the
edible snail, helix pomatia of learned men
and escargot of nut-brown vintagers, which,
however you may sneer at it, is not to be
despised, seeing that it is in such favour with
certain amateurs as to be greedily hunted
for and sent off by hundreds of thousands to
distant non-snail-producing regions. Troyes
(whence troy-weight), boasts an eating-house,
Aux deux Couronnes, with the sign of The
Two Garlands of Grapes, whose principal
attraction is BONS ESCARGOTS, in conspicuously
large capitals, just as NATIVE OYSTERS
would be with us. In one canton near
me, Les Riceys, there are dealers in escargots
who send whole cart-loads to Troyes,
Auxerre, and other large towns, whence they
find their way to Paris, where they fetch a
sou a-piece. Of late years their price has
doubled; they are now sold wholesale from
four to five francs the thousand.

One more word on edible snails, and I have
done with them. They are larger than the large
brown garden snail (which is also eaten in other
parts of France) more conical in shape, and of
the colour of those nankin pantaloons, which
were the delight of the bucks of the last
generation. The best are gathered amongst
the vines that grow upon a reddish soil
composed of bits of crumbling rock. The season
to eat them is during the dead months of
the year, when they are sealed up asleep in
their winter quarters. If by accident they
are consumed in summer, they are first made
to fast for several days. After boiling them
in salt and water, and tossing them up in
butter and sweet herbs, some cooks restore
each snail to its own private shell, with just
the black tip of its tail cut off, and serve
them neatly piled on a plate, like a pyramid
of fruit or cakes; others combine the whole
into a fricassee, and send them to table more
naked than they were born.

Jean Raisin's family is exceedingly numerous;
and, between us be it said, there are
more of them than good ones. It has somewhat
diminished since Virgil's days, when it
numbered more than the sands of the desert;
but it is still sufficiently multitudinous to
throw dust into the eyes of Jean's best
friends. Bose collected more than fourteen
thousand individual raisins at a family party
given in the Luxembourg gardens. What is
odd, the most deserving members are known
by the greatest number of aliases. Domitian,
to avenge himself on the ancient Gauls, laid
low every Raisin he could happen with. His
services would be useful at the present day in
exterminating undeserving Raisins from the
positions they occupy throughout the land.
All that would be wanted is a second Probus
to replace them with strong and healthy
young fellows whose characters will bear
strict investigation. But Jean Raisin hardly
knows his own relations, either by sight or
by name; every district has its favourites,
which happen to take the farmer's fancy.
The usual inmates of gardens, such as the
Messieurs Chasselas, do not thrive in the
field satisfactorily; and vice-versa, though
probably in a less degree. It is much to be
desired that some enterprising ampelologist
would travel through the country to make a
list of them and take their portraits. A
genealogical tree has long been threatened,
but still remains to be completed.

As to aliases; I myself discovered at
Chablis that Gros-plant, Lombard, and
Charniaux, are one. Gouais is another name
of the same individual, who turns out
troublesome if you cut him too short. Again;
Pierre, Jean, Pineau, Auxerrois, Pied-de-Perdrix,
Grappe-Rouge, and Plant-de-Medoc,
differ so little in their real physiognomy and
character, that they may safely be regarded
as different forms assumed by one and the
same actor of all-work. Again; Beurot and
Pineau-Gris of the Departments of the Aube,
the Côte-d'Or, the Cher, and the Vosges
ought both to be compelled to drop those
titles. The same of Auxois and the Affamé
of the Meuse, Ascot of the Lower Rhine,
Braguet-Gris of the Alps, Fromenteau-Gris
of the Jura, Muscadet of the Indre and
the Seine-et-Oise, and Tokai of the Upper
Rhine. All those titles are merely
synonymous with that respectable name, Cordelier-
Gris. Let not the above sentences be looked
upon as a useless parade of pedantic learning.

There are two leading varieties of grape,
the heads of the family of Jean Raisin, from
which the main supply of French red wines
is obtained.  The first and highest in excellence
is the Pineau, or Pinot, names guessed
to be derived from πινω, I drink. Under the
name of Noirien (please do not confound this
with Nairien, a long-bunched grape which
ripens badly), it furnishes, in Upper
Burgundy, wines whose reputation is deservedly
world-famous. Morillon-noir is another of
its names. At Orleans it is called Auvernas,
because it was introduced thence from
Auvergne. The Pineau is a small black
grape, exceedingly sweet and pleasant to the
taste. "Does it not glue your lips and fingers
together? That is the sign it will make
good wine;" said a jolly Burgundian, as he
led me through his vineyard, and pressed me
to eat till I could eat no more. The bunches
are not large, the berries are irregular in size,