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HI
be able to compare it with Pommery's '1884.' Tbis
is the date of the last good champagne year. The cel
larer (who is a gentleman of standing,for all his blue
smock) has no doubt of your verdict as he pours the
aromatic fluid into your glass. It is as clear as spring
water, and the color of a sulphur crystal. The bottles
thus opened for the tourist may,I suppose, be counted
by the thousand annually. But it is enough to remem
ber the historic ravaging of the cellars of M. Moet of
Epernay during the Revolutionary wars to realize that
good may come out of such apparent sacrifice. The
Russians relieved M. Moet of about 600,000 bottles.
That would of course have ruined a small man; but M.
Moet could afford to wait, and soon after the war he
found that he received twice as many orders from
Russians before. That immeasurable country contin
ues to be a valued client both in Epernay and Reims—•
though it is not reputed to be the best of judges
between genuine and fictitious champagne.
There"are other names to conjure with here within
sound of the bold bells of the cathedral besides Heid-
sieck and Pommery; but they need not be enumerated.
They are at least as well known as the names of certain
crowned heads of the Eastern Hemisphere. Are they
not on every wine list throughout the world, and have