. To California and back;. CAPISTRANO. A tiny quaint village in a fertile valley that slopesfrom a mountain-wall to the sea, unkempt and mon-grel, a jumble of adobe-ruins, whitewashed hovelsand low semi-modern structures, straggling like amoraine from the massive ruin of the Mission SanJuan Capistrano. The mission dominates the val-ley. Go where you will, the eye turns to this co-lossal fragment, a forlorn but vital thing; broken,crushed, and yet undying. Swarthy faces are min-gled with the pale Saxon type, the music of theSpanish tongue is heard wherever you hear humanspeech, and from behind
. To California and back;. CAPISTRANO. A tiny quaint village in a fertile valley that slopesfrom a mountain-wall to the sea, unkempt and mon-grel, a jumble of adobe-ruins, whitewashed hovelsand low semi-modern structures, straggling like amoraine from the massive ruin of the Mission SanJuan Capistrano. The mission dominates the val-ley. Go where you will, the eye turns to this co-lossal fragment, a forlorn but vital thing; broken,crushed, and yet undying. Swarthy faces are min-gled with the pale Saxon type, the music of theSpanish tongue is heard wherever you hear humanspeech, and from behind the lattices of the adobescome the tinkle of guitars and the cadence of softvoices in plaintive rhythm. The sun makes blackshadows by every house and tree, and sweeps inbroad unbroken light over the undulating hills tohazy mountain-tops; ground-squirrels scamper acrossthe way, wild doves start up with whistling wings,and there is song of birds and cry of barnyard y^
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Keywords: ., boo, bookauthorhigginscacharlesa, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
