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rough foot…hills； where alone it can expect to prosper。 A
basking inclination； and stones； to be a reservoir of the
day's heat； seem necessary to the soil for wine； the
grossness of the earth must be evaporated； its marrow daily
melted and refined for ages； until at length these clods that
break below our footing； and to the eye appear but common
earth； are truly and to the perceiving mind； a masterpiece of
nature。 The dust of Richebourg； which the wind carries away；
what an apotheosis of the dust！ Not man himself can seem a
stranger child of that brown； friable powder； than the blood
and sun in that old flask behind the faggots。
A Californian vineyard； one of man's outposts in the
wilderness； has features of its own。 There is nothing here
to remind you of the Rhine or Rhone； of the low COTE D'OR； or
the infamous and scabby deserts of Champagne； but all is
green； solitary； covert。 We visited two of them； Mr。
Schram's and Mr。 M'Eckron's； sharing the same glen。
Some way down the valley below Calistoga； we turned sharply
to the south and plunged into the thick of the wood。 A rude
trail rapidly mounting； a little stream tinkling by on the
one hand； big enough perhaps after the rains； but already
yielding up its life； overhead and on all sides a bower of
green and tangled thicket； still fragrant and still flower…
bespangled by the early season； where thimble…berry played
the part of our English hawthorn； and the buck…eyes were
putting forth their twisted horns of blossom： through all
this； we struggled toughly upwards； canted to and fro by the
roughness of the trail； and continually switched across the
face by sprays of leaf or blossom。 The last is no great
inconvenience at home； but here in California it is a matter
of some moment。 For in all woods and by every wayside there
prospers an abominable shrub or weed； called poison…oak；
whose very neighbourhood is venomous to some； and whose
actual touch is avoided by the most impervious。
The two houses； with their vineyards； stood each in a green
niche of its own in this steep and narrow forest dell。
Though they were so near； there was already a good difference
in level； and Mr。 M'Eckron's head must be a long way under
the feet of Mr。 Schram。 No more had been cleared than was
necessary for cultivation； close around each oasis ran the
tangled wood； the glen enfolds them； there they lie basking
in sun and silence； concealed from all but the clouds and the
mountain birds。
Mr。 M'Eckron's is a bachelor establishment； a little bit of a
wooden house； a small cellar hard by in the hillside； and a
patch of vines planted and tended single…handed by himself。
He had but recently began； his vines were young； his business
young also； but I thought he had the look of the man who
succeeds。 He hailed from Greenock： he remembered his father
putting him inside Mons Meg； and that touched me home； and we
exchanged a word or two of Scotch； which pleased me more than
you would fancy。
Mr。 Schram's； on the other hand； is the oldest vineyard in
the valley； eighteen years old； I think； yet he began a
penniless barber； and even after he had broken ground up here
with his black malvoisies； continued for long to tramp the
valley with his razor。 Now； his place is the picture of
prosperity： stuffed birds in the verandah； cellars far dug
into the hillside； and resting on pillars like a bandit's
cave：… all trimness； varnish； flowers； and sunshine； among
the tangled wildwood。 Stout； smiling Mrs。 Schram； who has
been to Europe and apparently all about the States for
pleasure； entertained Fanny in the verandah； while I was
tasting wines in the cellar。 To Mr。 Schram this was a solemn
office； his serious gusto warmed my heart； prosperity had not
yet wholly banished a certain neophite and girlish
trepidation； and he followed every sip and read my face with
proud anxiety。 I tasted all。 I tasted every variety and
shade of Schramberger； red and white Schramberger； Burgundy
Schramberger； Schramberger Hock； Schramberger Golden
Chasselas； the latter with a notable bouquet； and I fear to
think how many more。 Much of it goes to London … most； I
think； and Mr。 Schram has a great notion of the English
taste。
In this wild spot； I did not feel the sacredness of ancient
cultivation。 It was still raw； it was no Marathon； and no
Johannisberg； yet the stirring sunlight； and the growing
vines； and the vats and bottles in the cavern； made a
pleasant music for the mind。 Here； also； earth's cream was
being skimmed and garnered； and the London customers can
taste； such as it is； the tang of the earth in this green
valley。 So local； so quintessential is a wine； that it seems
the very birds in the verandah might communicate a flavour；
and that romantic cellar influence the bottle next to be
uncorked in Pimlico； and the smile of jolly Mr。 Schram might
mantle in the glass。
But these are but experiments。 All things in this new land
are moving farther on： the wine…vats and the miner's
blasting tools but picket for a night； like Bedouin
pavillions； and to…morrow； to fresh woods！ This stir of
change and these perpetual echoes of the moving footfall；
haunt the land。 Men move eternally； still chasing Fortune；
and； fortune found； still wander。 As we drove back to
Calistoga； the road lay empty of mere passengers； but its
green side was dotted with the camps of travelling families：
one cumbered with a great waggonful of household stuff；
settlers going to occupy a ranche they had taken up in
Mendocino； or perhaps Tehama County； another； a party in dust
coats； men and women； whom we found camped in a grove on the
roadside； all on pleasure bent； with a Chinaman to cook for
them； and who waved their hands to us as we drove by。
CHAPTER IV … THE SCOT ABROAD
A FEW pages back； I wrote that a man belonged； in these days；
to a variety of countries； but the old land is still the true
love； the others are but pleasant infidelities。 Scotland is
indefinable； it has no unity except upon the map。 Two
languages； many dialects； innumerable forms of piety； and
countless local patriotisms and prejudices； part us among
ourselves more widely than the extreme east and west of that
great continent of America。 When I am at home； I feel a man
from Glasgow to be something like a rival； a man from Barra
to be more than half a foreigner。 Yet let us meet in some
far country； and； whether we hail from the braes of Manor or
the braes of Mar； some ready…made affection joins us on the
instant。 It is not race。 Look at us。 One is Norse； one
Celtic； and another Saxon。 It is not community of tongue。
We have it not among ourselves； and we have it almost to
perfection； with English； or Irish； or American。 It is no
tie of faith； for we detest each other's e