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THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1896. 17 WHO HAVE G The Qolde—r\ of the Vineyards| Harvest Grapes are grapes this year. The man who Las them smiles complacently and | says grapes are money. Queer how many things grapes can be! Some years they are dru s. The picking season is at its heizht now; pickers are in demand, wineries are crushing all day long, and all day the big wagons come down the roads piled high with full boxes or rattle back again with empty ones. The . entle hills in all the grape valleys bear undu'ating lines of low green vines looking bare of fruit until one gets close, and thea revealing treasures of purple, pink or white ciusters, hung hidden be- neath the branches. There isn’t much landscape hidden by grepevines; they do not rise enough from the ground to change the appearance oI the surround- ings—not nearly so much as a crop of corn would. And there is nothing of pature in a vineyard. Who ever hnew Nature to grow anything in parallel lines? In a section devoted to grape culture one may stand on any slight eminence and see, as far as he can see, line after line, sloping up and then down, following and bring:ng into relief every curve or hollow in the land. It isn’t beautiful, but it looks thnifty; it has the air of prosperity and spick-and- spanness about it which comes with vaiue and care. Running through nearly every vineyard, cutting it in twoor in four, are rows of orchard trees, like sentinels, or like a few grown-up people watcking the play o many children. 1ln some hollow, nearly hiaden by trees, and vines allowed to climv, is the bouse, and if the place be large there are many outbuildings and a ! these buildings are | the deep green of the vines and the brown of the | earth. Roads and paths intersect the vineyard, and now, if one passes along | winery. Nearly alt white, contrasting weil with these roads, at the sound of a footstep, up pops head after head from among the vines, where the stooping pickers have been hid. A hopyard is more picturesque, per- haps, but less satis actory this year than & vineyard. The man with grapes has no grudge against Providence or his neigh- bor, for the crop is good in qua.ity, though light in guantity, and every grape sells at It is a goldeu harvest that | is being gathered iu ali over the State this month, greater than any for many years— a good price. & boon from kindly nature to her burdened people. Around the little town of Livermore are vineyards in every direction. One can take no road that does not lead to one. In all directions the bhills are crowned with vinés to their very summits, and in all directions come and go the great four- horse loadsof grapes. Grapeseverywhere! Great luscious grapes of every shade and degree of sweetness; great piles of grapes in front of the wineries; great piles of boxes full of grapes stacked about the vineyards. It would seem that there are grapes enough in this region to supply the State. It takes a small army to gatber them in. Some small vineyards hire two or three families to pick and then there’s fun. They all come—father, mother and a flight of stairs, ending with the fat baby crowing under the shade of a vine. Even grandma picks in the cool of the day, feel- ing once more that she is of some use in the world, for every bunch counts. They are paid by the ton, from $1 25 to $2 a ton, according to the ground. The stems are cut with a hooked knife and the bunches dropped into & box, thirty-two of which make aton. Your heart would falter and | your back would ache to think of fillins has been done. That wculd be good wages if it could be kept up, but few do it at all, | and some average half a ton aday through the season. “Sull,” they say, ‘it is living wages and we are glad to bave it to do.” | 5 A jolly, noisy crowd they are in the cool thirty:two of these boxes in a day, but it | morning when mist hides the hills. and a deep chill breath of air makes motion a pleasure. The fathers and mothers move their hands so fast the bunches flvin every direction, all of them, however, lighting in the box; the young lads and Ja-ses, neichbors, and often bashful sweet- hearts, pick side by side, growing more saucy and happy than usual beneath that leafy screen, whence comes now and then a sharp voice and the sound of a slap, to show how maidens fair can keep swains in their prorer places; and, farther down, a band of yonnzsters swarm over two boxes, eating, picking and squabbling in bliss. These people will pick in the cool twi- light as long as they can see the bunches, and go to their own homes Lo eat the sur- per the grandmother has ready, then in their own beds they will forget labor and pleasure alike in the deep, dreamless slumber given to those who !aborin the air. They are not unhappy. Even when the noonday sun makes them less cheer- ful and they grumble about the light crop making slow pick.ng they are a healthy, | wholesome lot. They are working to- gether, making more than they eat. The next vineyard is larger, about 200 The foreman looks askance at the acres. for our cold reception. The pickers are Chinamen, and the camera might hold them up to pubiic scorn. “De boss he thinka you know he have Chiny crowd. He thinka you come geita de picture them.” Thus explains the Portuguese as- sistant after the foreman basgone. He need not worry. We want no picture of the twoscore Chinese, each one just like the other, with their pots of cold tea con- veniently near. The Portuguese telis us further, with great effort, that Chinese labor is not pleasing to the people, but the boss thinks they work faster, and, above all, steadier that the floating class of white men he has tried. Ii he hires a gangof heathen he knows they will bethere every day as long as the work lasts. We are not judeing the boss, and he might just as well have been pleasant. The Chinese camp and have nice tents to camera, and has no welcome for me‘ stranger within his gates. “There jain’t nothin’ to see and the pickers is way down the other end of the place,” he asserts, very grumpily. Calmly impervious to snubs, we plod to the other end, which. by the way, is in the middle, and there we find the reason sleep in npear the barn. The sweet odors of their native cookery float on the even- ing breeze and over the fragrant vines as delicious as burning eucalyptus leaves in the back yard. These men are slaves, the lowest class of our Ch.nese. They grunt ana we pass on to where another part of the same vine- | vard is sublet to a8 man of a family. ‘With two cous'ns and seven children the man picks bis crop alone, that is without hiring. He sends to the winery two tons, while the Chinese crowd sends six tons every day. He thinksthe Chinamen have no business to touch the prapes, for the heathens don’t know good wine when they taste it. 1 The third ranch is larger than the other two put together. We can catch no shots here for there is trouble. Yesterday the gang of Wandering Willies, who had been lewsurely picking for a week, took stock, and finding they had a surplus they in- vested it in lignid joy and departed. The foreman is mad. He says he will take no more imported labor. If he cannot get together a gang of the people of the reigh- borhood he will be blessed if he don’t take Chinamen—and he hates e like pizen. There is something in his disgust. There are crowds of tramps now along the road, w ho seek work, and finding it thev do not likeit. They will work until each hasa couple of doliars ahead, and then they vanish, leaving thé man who employed them in the lurch. Ou, that there were some way to separate the wheat from the tares; the involuntarily poor from the RAPES 10 SELL SMILE COMPLACENTLY They Bring $16 and $25 a Ton This Year voluntgrily lazy—also cause from effect. Down the road as we go back we pass some of these weary gentlemen camped by a bridge. They look lazily good- natured, stretched out in the shade; per- haps they have a grievance and are will- ing to tell it. Just so, as long as we do not turn tbat machine in their direction they will talk to us all day. “Why d.d they quit?” IN A BUSY VINEYARD OF LIVERMORE VALLEY WHERE NO CHINESE ARE EMPLOYED “ Well, this fellow got fired just because he got drank one day and now he wouldn’t go back if every grave on the vines rotted, and the rest just got tired. No man ought to be expected to work - for a dollar a day, and besiges it got hot. Yes, they a!l had some money coming to them and when they get it they will go on. Where? Oh, maybe to the city maybe to some other grape town. Of course the boss will take on Chinese; he dou’t know how to treat white men any- how. Expects them to work six days in a week!” Never have [ heard such frankly con- fessed .vagrancy. [ mention that most people. have to work six days and do chores on the seventh. “Well, we don’t do it, ‘and we don't have to.” We may as well stop at this small field of grapes. The owner is a German, and our countrymen are funny sometimes. This one is jolly, with twinkling eyes and alternate teeth. ‘‘Grapes are good money this year,” he says, “‘but it’sa pity the crop is not heavier. If the frost hadn’t burned so many he would be twice as well off.” I pointed out that the price might have been smatler bad the crop been larger, but he doesn’t think so. Still the grapes are good, and from his seventeen acres, with two pickers, he will cleara sum which makes his eyes twinkle more and brings inlo view his absent teeth. Following this great load o! grapes into town, to te winery there, we may learn about the fate of those great ciusters of sweetness. They are dumped into a box, wherein crawls an endless chain which claws them up and up info he separator at the top of the house. The stems go down the dump and fail outside, while the grapes pass into the crusher. The mashed grapes, skins, seeds and all, are sent down pipes into the vats. Nice big vats they are, big enough to keep house in. This is a good time to iearn about differ- ent wines in theory, White wine and sed wine are not made from different grapes. T & difference lies in the way they are fer- mented. For claret the wine ferments ekins and all; for white wine the skins are (aken out before fermentation begins. The color comes irom the acid uniting with the dark matter in the skins, Grapes contain much tartaric acid. Per- haps some housewives hLave wondered whence comes the cream tartar used in making scowy biscuit and puffy cake. It settles in wine-vats. The acid gathers in the bottom and on the sides in crystals, An old vat is coated inches deep with it. Often, too, some is extracted from the pomace by pouring a little boiling water on it. The acid gathers on it like frost on a window-pane. Nothingis wasted. The pomace, mosily seed and fiber, is dried and used to iced the engine. Ton for 1on, it is as good as coal. This winery—one of many—handles thirty tons of grapes a day; quite a pile if it were in your front yard. The yield around Livermore will exceed 4000 tons, and the wine made will equal 500,000 gailons. The price is from $16 to $25 a ton. That makes a tidy sam of money. All over our great State this harvest is being gathered for wine, for raisins, for eating; thousands of men, women and children are making a living working with them, and immense sums of money are circulating. It would seem that we ought to have plenty to eat; bui if we have them we must pay for them. The crop is not heavy enough to pay for coax- ing the public. Every one can be sold straigit from the vineyard. It is 2 great industry this year, and the wiseacres do say that such a year for grapes has not been seen since the early days. Blessed be the man who has grapes to sell, for he shail inherit riches even in these times of Bryanism and politics. GO0D MANNERS FOR HORSES A mau came to see me recently on a matter of business. He rode a handsome, lightly stepping bay mare, anc duringcur interview, which took piace out of doors, he di mounted and stood taiking with the bridle-rein thrown over his arm. “I came up,” he said, “to see you about that—" Then the msure thrust her head forward and uvoward, jerking the rein iree, and the rest of the sentence was lost in the grab her master made to recover his hold mpon her. Securing the rein #gain, he gave it a turn about his left hand and resumed the conversation, which related to pasturage. “Oi course it's stubble,” he said, “‘but there’s nothing like it for—look out there, will you?’’ This last was addressed to the mare, who bad ducked ber head beiween her fore feet, nearly upsetting tle spesker by the jerk. He hauled ber nose up again, and before he could proceed further, she mad a sidewise turn, striking ber head agains my shoulder, and then giving it a toss which knocked her owner's hat off, pick-a it up and went on taiking. ing the w. ole conversation the animal kept up a constant motion, jerkingz her head up and down, stepping from side to side to the imminent peril of our toes, rubbing against her master and conduct- ing herself altogether 80 much after the fashion of a spoiled child that at last 1 be- came impatient. “Cannot you make that mare behave herself ?’ I said. “No,”” was the reply, “she’s mervous. There isn’t a mean hairin the creatur ’s head, but she’s just naturally restless and uneasy.’’ Just then she ‘“stepped over,’’ unex- pectedly, anrd brought cne foot down forcibly upon my tenderest toe. A quick jerk at the bit backed her off, but my lemper was quite spoiled for that day. “I'd teach ber tostand still or 1 would send her to the boneyard,” I said, irri- tated by pain. The man was full of apol- ogies. He wouldn’t have had 1t happen for a good desl. He was awfuily sorry, but it was just naturally impossible to make that mare keep still, and presently he mounted and rode off. ;i A horse should be taught something more than to pull and to back, to carry weight and go at the various utility gaits, He should be taught good manners in addition to these things. It is acompara- tively easy thing to do this with a young colt, but while far more difficult it is not impossible to inculcate lessons in deport- ment into the brain of an old borse. The ctreature is not like a dog in this respect. He can always learn new tricks. The first t!ing necessary is to get con- trol of his head. If the animal has al- ways been eliowed to travel with his nose thrust forward, or if he has been com- pelled to do this by the use of a tight overhead check, you will have some diffi- Dur- He | culty at the outset. Do not despair, how- ever; a little patience will produce won- derful results in this regard. To begin with, you maust train the horse so that yon can bring his head in from its usual nearly horizontal carriage. Until you can do this vou can make no progress. The best method of giving this first lesson is both pretty and interesting. You must teach the animal to come toward you when you tap him, with a whip, on the breast. To do this stand in front of him with the whip in your right hand, tip downward. Now, taking a rein in each hand, close’'to the bit, strike the horse sharply on the chest. He will | probably start back and try to pull away from you, but keep your held |vpon the reins, speak quietly to ]him and strike him again. Keep it np | until he makes a little movement toward ou, as he will do, sooner or later. When he does this loosen your hold oa the geins, | pat him and praise him, letting him understand tifus that he has pleased you. Then proceed as before. He will quickly | learn that the way to avoid the whip is to come to you, and you have taken the first step toward controlling his head. As he | comes toward you a slight pressuro on the bit will arc his neck and bring his nose in toward his chest, making him what is | calied “light in hand.” You will find | this alone a great advantage, as when [ rid.ng him if be thrusts his head forward and bears on the bit, a tap with the whip | on the chest will serve to bring his nose | in and ease the pull upon your bridle-arm. This is a lesson that any woman can teach a horse. I have myself taught a spirited filly to come to me irom a dis- tance of several paces when I stand before her whip in hand. The main thing is to make the creature understand that he has nothing to fear from the whip so long as he is obedient. Do not be afraid of a horse. Always remember that he is far more afraid of you than you are of him. He has learned that the creature that stands upright and has hands is his master, and it is your place not to let him forget this. Now, having gotten his head into the proper perpendicular position, do not tty to teach him arything further at this lesson, but, say the next day, put on a double bridle—that is, a bridle with curp and snaffle bits, bring him toward you with the whip, and get him light in hand, that is, with nose in and head perpendicu- lar, stana at his right s.de and, with the right curb rein in your left hand and the right snaffle rein in your right, quite near the bit, draw your hands gently apart, beicg careful not to jar or burt the horse, but keeping a steady tension until he opens his mouth. When he does this re- lax the reins and pat him. Repeat this lesson say twice, daily, for a few minutes ata time, until he opens his mouth with- out resistance at a gentle pressure on the bits, Tren practice with him untii you obtain the same result with the snaffle alone, You will find, in a very short| time, that by these lessons you have es- | tablished a means of communication be- tween yourself and the horse, through the bit. Action in a horse soon becomes | instinctive. tis motor impulses are largely reflex. If you have not a double bfidle at hand you can accomplish the flexions of head and jaw by the use of a rope in connection | with the curb pit. Pass the rope through the animal’s mouth, drawing the end | throngh the bit ring on either side. Now stand at the horse’s right and take both ends of the rope in your right hand and the left curb rein in your left. Draw your hands apart as before, making a little gentle play with the curb until he ovens his mouth. The rope is more severe than the snaffle bit would be, so proceed gently and watch that he does not get his tongue over the bit—a bad trick for a horse to acquire. To yell “Stand still there, will you'’ at a rastless horse only increases bis restless- ness and his contempt for you. Bat the horse that has been tau ht to obey the bit and to vield to it iutellizently will stand still without being yelled ar. The pressure of the iron in his mouth is a re- minder that he is on duty, and having really learned the lesson of cheerful sub- mission he ceases to fret and thrash about like a spoiled, unreasonable ehiid. No matter how good a traveler he may be, how feariess or willing, if he is not re- sponsive and easily controlled, well man- nered as well as well aited, he is nota well-broken horse—a thing to be carefully considered if you are offering the animal in the market. Miss RussELL. SOHAE - FO ‘The use of do-s in war has been described in THE SUNDAY CALL. Several foreign armies are traming dogs as scouts, sen- tries and messengers in war, and experi- ments show that they can be used suc- cessfully. For many years also have pigeons, although not four-footed ani- mals, been used as messencers in war. During the Franco-Prussian war, a great many messages were sent out of the be- leaguered city of Paris, and by such means communication with the outside world was maintained. But there are other animals also used, snd the foremost among them is the well-known horse. Next to the dog, the horse stands at the head of the animal kingdom in docility to man’'s will, and inteHigence 1 carrying out what be is taught. He is used both as a fighting animal and a transport animal. She Sits All Day on the Narrow-Gauge Mole ‘When tke moon is on the wane and the tides small an old woman may be seen seated all day by the pier north of the Oakland narrow-gauge ferry slip. She is the most industrious angler that ever wet a line. When accosted she says smil- ingly: “Je suis la vielle pecheuse,” and no further information will she give. In her basket is always stowed a very hfly Iu nch, sandwiches, cheese,.fruit anda pintof ciaret, so she evidently is not fish- ing for the pan alone. She has a keen ap- precintion of the sport. She baits her hook with the uimost care. ‘When she gets a bite her withered fea~ tures glow with animation. She positively quivers with excitement when she feels the plunging fish at the end of her line. “Ha! un grand peche,” she shrieks, and looks about to mark if any one 1s observ- ing the reward of her skill and patience. The eulls seem to know the old lady and to take kindly to her. They will perch close by her and watch her operations with a sort of grave and condescending inier- est. Thev know by this time that they cannot expect much in the line of re- jected fish, but this seems to make no difference to them. They are in the same business, and tHey feel, doubtless, that they could give the old lady points on catching fish that she never dreamed of. g i & UR-FOOTED ‘The cavalry and lLight artillery mon- opolize him as a fighting ani- mal, and he has been knawn to imbibe his rider’s feelings to such an ex- tent that he will not ouly boldly charze an enemy, but will assist, by biting and kicking, to do all damage possible to him. But valuable as the horse is in this par- ticular, yet it is as a beast of burden, as a transport animal, that his use principally comes. The best of soidiers are valueless without food and shelter : nd munitions of war, and to carry these and keep the army well fed and clothed and in good health is the first and most earnest desire of every commander. Therefore, in the wagon train the horse is even more valuabie than to carry the cavalryman, who cart be dis- peunsed with, or drag the cannon, which can be dragged by other animals. Yet the horse gives way to the humble and ‘“‘cussed” mule as a transport animal. This beast of burden is bardy, sure-footed, able to go anywhere that a man can find a footing, and take a load with him. He is the hardiest of beasts and easy to feed. Althongh we say “obstinate as a mule” we must not forget the dogged persever- ance that goes hand in hand with this quality, and though he is often vicious, as most hali-breeds are, he atones for it by his pluck, and in these days of light guns his value even as a fighting animal in car- rying them over narrow mountain roads is beyond teiling. Puck-pon.es are also used like the mule in mountain warfare. They are a sort of pocket editicn of the mule and are infe- rior to them in strength and ability, bnt cost little to keep. The donkey and bul- lock are used for purposes of transport in many countries, but there is much doubt asto their expediency, and if other ani- mals can be procured it is best to give these two up. They eat so much and fall away so rapidly when they do not have the best and plenty of food that when a country is reached where the food supnly is limited it is, indeed, a doubtful question how tofeed them. Among fighting animals the horse stands supreme for courage and endurance combined, but almost coeval with him is the elephant. We know that the an&ent Romans used these animals, since they took the idea from Hannibal in his in- vasion of Italy. In those days this huge beast was in fact a fighting animal, and we have many anthentic accounts of how he carried his rider hither and thither in combat, crushing and tramping his foes and giving to the leaders a vantage point from which to watch the combat. To-day, however, his usefulness is confined entirely to that of a transport animal, since the great brute has apparently lost all stomach for fighting since the introduc- tion of firearms. He is used to draw the heaviest field and siege batteries, but near the battle-ground the smell of powder or SOLDIERS sound of firearms stampedes him and he has to be unharnessed and his place taken by the patient bullocks, who draw the cannon anvwhere on the battle-ground, apparently oblivious of all danger. Our iltustration sbowsa heavy battery of the Indian army on parade. There are four such batteries in India, each composed of six heavy guns—40-pounders and six three- inch rifles—and each gun is drawn by two elephants. The guns are manned by Eng- lishmen and the officers are English. But all the transport of the baitery is drawn by bullocks and on the battle-field they are changed with the elephants. The picture shows a single division of a bat- tery only. The entire strength is one major, one captain, three lieutenants, two sergeants, six corporals, twelve bombar- diers and seveniy-two gunners, with an Indian coutingent of 163 mahouts, drivers and servants, ete. An animal little thought of for military purposes is the domestic, bumble pussy cat. This will be news to most people, that puss takes her place amonz the animals that all armies require, especially Sam’s; yet so it is. Mice and rats flourish quite as well in Government storehouses as they do elsewhere—indeed, some peo- ple think more so. The services of Tabby are called into requisition far oftener than supposed, and without any equivocation it may be said that Puss is among the most active of her country’s defenders 1n her war against that enemy of the entire human race—the tribe of rats. To wager ceaseless war against the vermin of rats and mice t:at infest all Government ware- houses is really a war to Puss, and often she will be found covered with battle wounds and scars and worthy to be put on the retired list and pensioned. Among the many four-footed soldiers must not be forgotten the pets that neasly all reziments or companies in service have. These pets are of all kinds, gnd with Uncle Sam’s forces have been known to run from the big grizzly to the little badger, or even the mole or squirrel. In some English regiments it is the custom for the drum-major, or, as he is called there, the sergeant-drummer, to have marching with him the pet of the regi- ment as he parades with the band up and down the line. The animal in all such cases is richly caparisoned, and, indeed, there are no pets better looked after than the four or two footed ones of soldiers. At Fort Dbu-las, Salt Lake City, are two immense grizziies that were captured by men of the Sixth United States In- fantry when thev were cubs. They are now immense beasts and are the pets of the Sixteenth Regiment, which relieved the Bixth. The history of the famous war eagle ““Old Abe,” which went out with the Eighth Wisconsin Regiment during the war, is known to all veterans.