The record-union. [volume] (Sacramento, Calif.) 1891-1903, 1899-02-19
JUAN, THE CABALLERO.

written for the Record Union by Alice
Robertson)
A smooth white road ribboning amid
the enchanting valley of Santa Clara,
twisting through fields Of wild oats
and acres of the fragile, blue nemophi-
la which is intermingled with the dain-
ty evening primrose; solferino mayfioW-
er and the snowy purpleveined amole.
whilst tall, proudly magnificent, soar
several stately Yucca gloriosa crowned
with their cOronets of clustering white
blossoms, around whose sweet fra
GRANGE a swarm of bees are loudly hum
ming.
A glowing mass of golden eschschol-
tia sway and nod, curtsying coquettish
greetings to the more lowly neighbor-
ing mustard-blossoms, blocked by a
seething grain field which dips and
ripples to the within of a tickle breeze,
and also causing the large creamy
trumpet flowers to sway languidly
hither and thither, wastefully flinging
their sensual perfumes athwart the
balmy air.
Luxuriant shrubbery of ceonosa and
hazel which the wild grape holds in
tight embrace Immense groves of oak
and sycamore and in the distance the
thickly timbered pine-forests of Santa
Cruz and Monterey.
To the right lies the great Pacific.
placid, cold and blue, a long line of
sanddomes. A mighty ridge of noun
tains, strangely, queerly varied in out
line sweep grandly down into the
broad Salinas Valley.
tho 1aff IL, diracf contra ADDICTION.
jagged row of cliffs, as far as the eye
can reach, rear their massive peaks,
gloomy, desolate weird.
Just opposite, a chain of hills arise,
brushing the horizon with their green
backs, and, to whose swelling sides the
sturdy oaks cling proudly erect; others
waited, misshapen from many an ele-
mentary tussle, beneath whose shade
several cattle are scattered. At the
foot of these hills is nestled village
of red-tiled, adobe houses. A CHEEKY
sight to the solitary traveller in the
distance.
Overhead the clouds swim in feecy
scarfs of orange, pale rose and lilac,
separating, anon commingling in
haze of delicate lovely colors-a verita-
BILE California sky.
Evening is now advancing. The
yellow peoples wrap their smooth
curved petals close about their ears
and the southern sun sinks, tips ann
slips lightly behind the broken backed
hills.
''Por Diosi" with gesture of rever-
ence, Juan lifts his broad sombrero
from his forehead, ''Por Dios! 1t is
good to live
He is a young man, scarce five and
twenty, of unmistakable Spanish
blood, handsome as bronze god albeit.
a reckless. devil may-dare air suggest
ing the caballero and he is dressed in
the genuine style; a richly embroidered
dark-green Jacket, pantaloons wide
from the knee down, open at the sides,
'ornamented with rows of silver but
tons; a red sash wound loosely about his
waist, and a profusion of gold filigree
on his vest.
The balminess of the atmosphere is
soul resting. He sits motionless, with
bowed head Suddenly a myriad of
lights flash almost simultaneously
forth, to sway and reel, and then the
strains of melody salutes his ear.
Nearly home, old friend He leans
forward to pat affectionately the weary
horses neck another mile, Pepita,
mia. and your supper awaits YOU"
The jaded animal comprehending and
grateful for the caress, winnies softly,
pricks UP her ears, and moves quickly
onward. AS the distance lessons, the
music from the guitars and guiras
streams out loud and clear, mingled
with voices and peals of merry laugh
RI Il
from a walk to trot and anon from
a trot to a gallop.
Touched by the evening wind, the
lanterns bob and whirl Through the
trees and vines which screen the dane
ing arbor Juan can plainly distinguish
the brilliantly attired women and gally
besashed men. Caramba! His warm
young pulses quicken. They are dane
ing the contradanza, and now. he re-
members. it is Rosita's wedding, and
the festivities will last several days.
Juan leaps from his horse, and, re-
moving his iron spurs, throws the reins
to old Tomaso; then enters the sala,
large bare apartment, sparsely furnish
ed. He passes into several connecting
rooms; they are empty His aunt is
evidently enjoying herself with the
rest He finds food in abundance,
however. A great, fat stuffed turkey,
tamales and an immense dish piled high
with enchiladas. He eats heartily,
washing it down with generous
draughts of good red wine.
Around a small table in front of Jose
Morales fonda are three or four men
drinking and playing monte by torch
light.
Drawing near, Juan hears loud. an
cry voices. 1t Isl old Giuseppe Gonzales,
the richest man in the wide Salinas
Valley, disputing with Don joaquin Ri
cardo, one of the poorest, over the pos
session of a worthless strip of marsh
land adjoining both their ranches, ana
to which they each stubbornly lay
claim Juan smiles. The morning of
his departure, three years previous,
these two men were at this same argu
ment.
"Buenas tardes, Seniors MO-
Eli! Juan" they return his greet
ing warmly. "Como esta De donde
biene.' Old Giuseppe. who is seldom
sober, and now pretty tipsy, cordially
presses upon him trimming glass
of aguardiente. Then, after burning
his throat Juan lights a cigarette. and
with "Gracios. Seniors saunters off
to join the young fellows crowded
about the dancing arbor. He has rid
den many leagues since morning. yet
there is now no trace of fatigue about
him.
A score of alert. dark eyes instantly
recognize him. and the blood dips the
cheek of many young beauty. OF