On a glorious day like this, we, of course, all set off for the
mountain-top, and a wonderfully beautiful climb it was, amid vineyards,
pastures, and groves of walnut trees. The grapes here are, alas!
attacked in many places by the blight _oidium_, and this year the season
has been so wet and cold, that as they must be gathered after the first
white frost, they have no chance of ripening. As a natural result, the
year's wine will be sour, and sold at a considerable loss to the
growers. We stopped on our way to taste the grapes here and there, but
as yet none are ripe, though we are in the last days of September. After
steadily climbing for an hour, we reached the mountain-top, and sat down
to enjoy the view, having in sight on one side the immense plain
stretching from the Jura to the hills of the Cote d'Or, on the other, in
very clear weather, the Jura range and the top of Mont Blanc. Never
shall I forget this charming walk with my host, his son, and daughter,
all three able to give me any information I was in need of concerning
their beloved Franche-Comte. As we returned home by another way through
lovely little woods, dells, and glades, we encountered more than one
sportsman in blue blouse, who got into the covert of the wood as fast as
he could, in quest of thrushes.
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