The anti-monopolist. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1874-1878, 1874-10-29
the Ncss-GATHERER OF MONTEREY.
from the Overland Monthly.1

from the Overland Monthly.]
| Twenty years ago Monterey, that
quaint, dreamy town of the past, which
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 tepanted
the Salinas plains-now great harvest
field-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
roamed 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. .f.
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 and glis-
tened on the wet rocks, it touched with
loving splendor face of singular beau
ty, with features as clear cut as cam
go. 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
a 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 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 Oft 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 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 base that indicated the expert
enced mountaineer, the stranger drew
near her, and watched, with an amused
expression on his handsome Saxon fea-
lures, Juanilla's contest with an envi-
Gus wavelet for the possession of rare
hit Of moss. "Bravo!" he cried, as,
returning from successful rush into
the spray, she carried off her prize.
The moss-gathcrer turned quickly
and blushcd in the most charming man.
| ner imaginable as she hastily arranged
the short petticoat which chung limp
and lovingly to her pretty ankles. The
stranger took off his hat and apoligized
for his presence.
"Ah, senor," said the moss-gatherer,
''are you, too, looking for shells on my
beach! Well, you shall have soma, as
you are out so early. Come and l 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 designations of 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
lng'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 a
pity that this young Englishman, who
said such odd things in such nice way,
should have such pale checks, and get
so tired from the exercise that only re-
.freshed her for the labors of the day.
That afternoon, as her deft fingers wove
the MOSES into tasteful patterns, her
fathers voice summoned her to the YER
anda.
"There is stranger here, Juanilla,
who would like to see our picture
frames. Quick, my daughter, and
show the gentleman what We have for
SALE
Mr.. John Thorpe bought almost the
entire stock, and then asked permission
to visit the garden.