“To labour be content;
“So shall ye live, and dying, shall not miss
“The life immortal, in the realms of bliss!”
The different seasons of the year, of course, bring different incidents on our river into existence, each in its proper turn. The hay-harvest is a very lively time upon its banks; everywhere the green slopes are rid of their superfluous load, and boats cross and recross the river with the sweet-scented cargoes, some of which are stored, some transferred to larger bottoms for transportation down the stream.
Later comes the corn-harvest, then the boats are freighted with the golden ears; soon after an equally busy time sets in, when every sort of boat is seen piled with small branches of the oak: the leaves are stripped from the branches so brought home, and, being carefully dried, they form an excellent material with which the people stuff their mattresses, this making, as they assert, much warmer and softer beds, than straw. Every village possesses a right of cutting bedding at some place, and the different inhabitants have days allotted them by the authorities, on which they may help themselves.
The winter draws near and the vintage sets in, then all boats are employed on this absorbing service; the little boats, with large casks on board, look in the distance very much like gondolas: wherever the eye rests, nothing is seen that has not some connexion with the great event of the year on the Moselle. However, the vintage has a chapter to itself, so we will not dwell upon it here.
Carrying firewood is the last great occupation of the year for the smaller boats, and it is well for those who can procure a good supply of fuel, for the winter is cold and severe; unfortunately, too, wood is very scarce and dear, and though somewhat cheaper on the Moselle than in most parts of Germany, yet a good fire is quite out of the reach of the poorer classes, and they scrape together every morsel to enable them to feed the iron stoves which warm their cottages.