The herald and mail. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 1873-188?, 1874-10-23
THE MOss-GATHERER OF MON.
TEREY.


THE MOSs-GATHERER OF MON
TEREY.
Twenty years ago, Monterey, tha
quaint, dreamy town of the past, whicl
has never caught the feverish inspira
tion of the present, was little differen
from the Monterey of to-day. The war
of the outside world, the king-makings
and revolutions, and discoveries, anC
inventions, had no power to send a sin
gle thrill of interest or excitemeu
through the veins of her sOmnolen
Spanish population. So long as the
roses bloomed, and the winter rainl
made the hills green for the immense
herds of cattle which then tenanted the
Salinas plains-nOW a great harvest field
so long did the people of Monterey
proud of their long stretch OF sea beach
their roses, and the dark beauty of theil
daughters, take the pleasant afternoon
Sicstd, and dance to the music of the
guitar at carnival time. Twenty years
ago, 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 moldiDg
of yOre, Gull with the same delicate care
the buds from the mature trees.
On a glorious May dawn in 1856, as
the sun crept over the pines that senti-
mel the hills in the rear of the town, a
young girl stood on the beach Watching
the receding tide. AS the sunlight sill
vered the loIg reach of sands and glis-
tened on the wet rocks, it touched with
loving splendor face of singular beau
tv, with features as clear cut as a cameo.
Juanilla was the daughter of an old
whaler who for many years had followed
leviathan in the lagoOns of southern
California, but an accident caused by
the staving-in of q boat made him q
cripple, and, except his little adobe
homestead and the labor of Juanilla, he
had nothing III his old 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 Juauilla. The dawn saw her
on the beach when the tide suited her
occupation, and the porch of the adobe
cottage was a wilderness of crimson,
white, and yellow roses. Her beauty
was not of that sleepy, indolent sort, so
characteristic of the Spanish women.
1t had more of the animated grace and
1.-the supple vigor of the fishermen's
daughters of the British islands.
i" HQdrc dc Dios ," said she, softly,
as she sprung from the top of a treach-
erous granite rock to the sands, "bOw
these strangers are carrying off my
shells This beach Is being ruined by
those people. [ shall soon be without
nate ial fer a single picture-frame."
Now Juanilla's labOrs, though Monte
rey was still slumbering, were not un-
observed. A young man stood on the
bluff above the beach, looking down in
inteDsest admiration at the barefooted
beauty below. He wore the loose gray
clothes of a tourist, and, from the sea
glasses that hung by his side, was evi-
IDENTIFY ont early to observe the sunrise.
Clamhering down the rocks with a sure
footed ease that indicated the expert
enCed mOuntaineer, the stranger drew
near her, and watched, with an amused
expression on his handsome Saxon feat
ures, Juanilla's contest with an envious
wavelet for the possession of a rare bit
of moss. "BravOp he cried, as, return
ing from a successful rushinto the spray,
sac carried off her prize.
The moss gatherer turned quickly,
and blushed in the most charming man
Fer imaginable rs she hastily arranged
the short petticoat which clung limp
and lovingly to her pretty ankles. The
stranger took off his hat and apologized
for his presence.
Alb, senior, said the moss gatherer,
"are yOu, too, looking for shells on nv
beach? Well, you shall have some, as
yOu are ont so early. Come, and 1 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
Thrope, fresh from the London draw
ing-rOOms, and in search of a health
broken down by the designations of a
London life, mentally decided that this
was the most delightful adventure he
had met with since he had 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 disry
that his mornings lesson in conchologv
was more interesting than any he had
ever heard from the lips of his Oxford
professor. And Juanilla averred to her
self it was pity this young English
man, who said such odd things in such
a nice way, should have such pale
cheeks, and get so tired from the exer-
else that only refreshed her from the
lCbors of the day. That afternoon, as
her deft fingers wove the MOSES into
tasteful patterns, her fathers voice sum-
mOned her to the verand8.
"There is a stranger here, Juanilla,
whD 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.
"This is my pet, said Juanilla, gen.
ily lifting the blossom of a tiny moss
rose bush, but it is very sickly, senior,
aud l fear this will be it's last winter
Come, yOu shall have a bud, as you
bought my picture-frames. Poor thing
the northerly winds will kill il.
The sands had, after this morning, a
grand attraction for Thrope. He had
never met nature so fresh and brim.
ming with vitality as this poor whaler's
daughter. The sea, and tie woods. and
the flowers had been her instructors.
and from them she had caught an un-