The Grange advance., 1874-10-28
THE Noss.GA7AERER OF MONTEREY.
from the Overland Monthly. I

has never caught the feverish inspira-
ton of the present, was little different
from the Monterey Of to-day. The
wars of the outside world, the king
makings, and revolutions, and discov-
cries, and inventions, had no power to
send single thrill of interest or excite.
ment through the veins Of her somno.
lent Spanish population: So long as
the roses bloomed, and the winter rains
made the hills green for the immense
herds OF cattle which then tenanted
the Salinas plains-now a great harvest
feld-so long did the people of Monte
rey proud Of their long stretch Of sea-
beach, their roses, and the dark beauty
of their daughters: take the pleasant
afternoon siestd, and dance to the mu-
sic of the guitar at carnival time.
Twenty years ego, as to-day, the cattle
roamcd through the quiet streets, and
the same loving hands that planted
feeble rose-cuttings, now, with less of
the dimpled molding Of yore, Gull with
the same delicate care the buds from
the mature trees.
On glorious May dawn in 1856, as
the sun crept over the pines that sen.
tinel the hills in the rear Of the town,
| a young girl stood on the beach watch.
ing the receding tide. AS the sunlight
silvered the long reach Of sand AID glis-
tened on the wet rocks, it touched with
loving splendor face of singular beau
| ty, with features as clear cut as cam
60. Juanilla was the daughter Of an
old whaler who for many years had
followed the leviathan in the lagoens Of
South California, but an accident caus-
ed by the staving in of a boat made him
cripple, aud, except his little adobe
homestead and the labor of Juanilla, he
had nothing in his cd age to depend
on. She was moss-gatherer, who
made pretty picture frames Of shells
and sea.weed and sold them to the
crews of naval and merchant vessels.
An early riser was Juanilla. The dawn
saw her on the beach when the tide
suited her occupation, and the porch
of the adobe cottage was wilderness of
crimson, white, and yellow roses. Her
beauty was not of a sleepy. indolent
sort, so characteristic of the Spanish
women. 1t had more eff the animated
grace and little supple vigor of the fish
ermen's daughters Of the British is
lands.
''Madre de Dios!'' said she, softly,
as she sprung from the top of treach-
erous granite rock to the sands, chow
those strangers are carrying off my
shells! This beach is being ruined by
those people. l shall soon be without
material for single picture-frame.
Now Juanilla's labors, though Mon.
terey was still slumbering, were not un-
observed. A young man stood on the
bluff above the beach, looking down in
intensest admiration at the bare.footed
beauty below. He wore the loose gray
clothes of a tourist, and, from the sea-
glasses that hung by his side, was evil
IDENTIFY out early to observe the sunrise.
Clambering down the rocks with sure.
footed hase that indicated the expert.
enced mountaineer, the stranger drew
near her, and watched, with an amused
expression on his handsome Saxon 1ea-
lures, Juanilla' contest with an envi-
Gus wavelet for the possession of q rare
tit Of moss. "Bravo!' he cried, as,
returning from successful rush into
the spray, she carried off her prize.
The moss-gatherer turned quickly
and blushed in the most charming man
ner imaginable as she hastily arranged
the short petticoat which clung limp
and lovingly to her pretty ankles. The
stranger took off his hat and apoigized
for his presence.
"Ah, senor,' said the moss-gatherer,
''are you, too, looking for shells on my
beach! Well, you shall have SOM ;, as
you are out so early. Come and will
show you where the tide has thrown
them up" And quite recovered from
her first embarrassment, she beckoned
him to follow her over the rocks. John
Thorpe, fresh from the London drawing
rooms, and in search of health broken
down by the dissipations of q London
life, mentally decided that this was the
most delightful adventure he had met
with since he shook the dust of Bond
street from his feet. He followed her,
and when after an hours scramble with
this daughter Of the coast he returned
wet and weary, to the hotel, he made
an entry in his diary that his morn.
ing's lesson in conchology was more in.
teresting than any he had ever heard
from the lips of his Oxford professor,
! And Juanilla averred to herself it was q
pity that this young Englishman, who
said such odd things in such nice way
should have such pale cheeks, and gel
so tired from the exercise that only re-
freshed her for the labors of the day
That afternoon, as her deft fingers WOW,
the MOSES into tasteful patterns, he1
fathers voice summoned her to the yer
anda.
! ''There is stranger here, Juani1la
who would like to, see our pictur'
frames. Quick, my daughter, ant