banners upon the red towers of its renowned fortress, the Alhambra. The noble Isabella had all the time been really interested in Columbus's plan; and she now consented to help him.

But even after he had been fitted out for his voyage under her patronage, his troubles were by no means at an end. The three ships that were furnished him, called the "Santa Maria," the "Pinta," and the "Niña," were small, light craft, but poorly suited for a long and perilous journey. The sailors who manned them had been obtained with much difficulty. With few exceptions, they had little appreciation of the greatness of the enterprise.

When the expedition set sail from Palos, on the 3d of August, 1492, not a single spectator gave it a hearty "God-speed"; but, on all sides, the gloomiest predictions were made as to the fate of the men who were going to venture out upon the Sea of Darkness, which was supposed to surround the known world. The minds of the sailors could not but be affected by the lack of faith in the enterprise they had seen stamped upon the faces of their friends; and so they were ready to magnify real dangers, and to let their minds run wild over imaginary ones. Christopher Columbus alone had to quiet their fears, answer their objections, and breathe into them some of his own courage; and this, too, when he himself sorely needed support.

The route from Palos to the Canary Isles was not an unknown one; and this much of the distance was easily passed over. Here Columbus stopped till the 6th of September to repair the Pinta, whose rudder had been lost. Upon one of these islands is situated Mount Teneriffe, which was found to be in full eruption. As the sailors saw this, they shuddered and said: "This is an evil omen, and betokens a disastrous end to our voyage." But Columbus quieted their superstitions. He explained the nature of volcanoes, and called to their minds Mount Etna, with which they were familiar.

But when they looked back over the course they had taken, and saw the last of the Canary Isles grow dim in the distant offing and then fade out of sight, tears trickled down their bronzed faces, as the thought came to them that their ships were now, indeed, plowing through trackless seas. But they took heart

again as Columbus told them of the riches and magnificence of India, which he assured them lay directly to the west.

So the voyage progressed without further incident worthy of remark till the 13th of September, when the magnetic needle, which was then believed always to point to the pole-star, stood some five degrees to the northwest. At this the pilots lost courage. "How," they thought, "was navigation possible in seas where the compass, that unerring guide, had lost its virtue?" When they carried the matter to Columbus, he at once gave them an explanation which, though not the correct one, was yet very ingenious, and shows the philosophic turn of his mind. The needle, he said, pointed not to the North Star, but to a fixed place in the heavens. The North Star had a motion around the pole, and in following its course had moved from the point to which the needle was always directed.

Hardly had the alarm caused by the variation of the needle passed away, when two days later, after nightfall, the darkness that hung over the water was lighted up by a great meteor, which shot down from the sky into the sea. Signs in the heavens have always been a source of terror to the uneducated; and this "flame of fire," as Columbus called it, rendered his men uneasy and apprehensive. Their vague fears were much increased when, on the 16th of September, they reached the Sargasso Sea, in which floating weeds were so densely matted that they impeded the progress of the ships. Whispered tales now passed from one sailor to another of legends they had heard of seas full of shoals and treacherous quicksands upon which ships had been found stranded with their sails flapping idly in the wind, and manned by skeleton crews. Columbus ever cheerful and even-tempered, answered these idle tales by sounding the ocean and showing that no bottom could be reached.

As the ships were upon unknown seas, it was natural that every unusual circumstance should give the sailors alarm. Even the easterly tradewinds, into the region of which they had entered, and which were so favorable to their westward progress, occasioned the gravest fears. "In these seas," they reasoned, "the winds always blow from the east. How, then, can we

ever go back to Spain?" But on September 22 the wind blew strongly from the west, which proved a return to Spain was not impossible.

Still, the men thought they had gone far enough, and daily grew more impatient and distrustful of their commander, whom, after all, they knew only as a foreign adventurer whose ideas learned men had pronounced visionary. They formed a plan to throw Columbus into the This done, they proposed, on their return to Spain, to say he had fallen overboard as he consulted his astronomical instruments.

sea.

Columbus, whose keen eye saw signs of rising mutiny, took steps to meet it. The men who were timid he encouraged with kind words. To the avaricious he spoke of the great wealth they would find in the new countries. Those who were openly rebellious he threatened with the severest punishment. Thus, by managing the men with tact, he kept them at their posts of duty till September 25, when, from certain favorable signs, every one grew hopeful that land was near. The sea was now calm, and, as the ships sailed close together, wafted westward by gentle breezes, Martin Pinzon, who commanded the Pinta, cried out, "Land, land!" and forthwith began to chant the "Gloria in Excelsis." But he had been deceived by a ridge of low-lying cloud. For a week following, from many favorable indications, all on board were confident that as each day drew to a close land would be discovered on the next-and with each morning came bitter disappointment. This state of feeling continued till October 7, when, as the Niña, the smallest of the vessels, was breasting the waves ahead of the others, she suddenly hoisted a flag and, as a signal that land had been sighted, fired a gun, the first ever heard upon those silent waters. But the ships sailed on; and no land came in view.

The high hopes of the sailors now left them. The golden countries promised them seemed to recede as they approached. They became firmly resolved that they would give up the search after phantom lands and return to their homes. Columbus had exhausted his powers of persuasion. He now boldly announced that he would continue his voyage to the Indies in spite of all dangers. Doubtless he knew he could not much longer control his tur

bulent, hot-tempered followers. But the 11th of October, the day after he had come to an open rupture with them, brought unmistakable signs that land was near-such indications as fresh weeds that grow near running water, fish that were known to live about rocks, a limb of a tree with berries on it, and a carved staff. Every eye eagerly scanned the horizon. Night came on, however, and land had not been discovered; but the eager men were too happy to close their eyes in sleep. About ten o'clock, Columbus saw a light in the distance which moved to and fro in the darkness; and, shortly after midnight, a sailor on the Pinta made the welcome announcement that land could be seen. The ships now took in sail, and waited for the morning. As the 12th of October dawned, and the light of the rising sun dispelled the soft morning mists, Columbus's patience and unflagging zeal had their reward. He could plainly see land; and he tells us it looked "like a garden full of trees." It was an island belonging to what is now the Bahama group.

The ships soon cast anchor; and the boats were let down and rowed rapidly to a landingplace on the coast. Columbus, richly dressed and wearing complete armor, sprang upon the shore, bearing aloft the colors of Spain. He was closely followed by the captains of the Pinta and the Niña and a number of sailors, each captain carrying a banner upon which were wrought a green cross and the initials of Ferdinand and Isabella. They all, as soon as their feet touched the land, "fell upon their knees," and offered up their "immense thanksgivings to Almighty God."

When Columbus arose he planted the flag of Spain firmly in the soil. Who can properly appreciate the feelings that must have stirred his soul at this moment!

No wonder that Columbus was radiant with joy as he looked around him. No wonder that he wrote in his journal: "The beauty of the new land far surpasses the Campiña de Cordova. The trees are bright with an ever verdant foliage, and are always laden with fruit. The plants on the ground are high and flowering. The air is warm as that of April in Castile.”

No wonder that he said: "I felt as if I could never leave so charming a spot, as if a thousand

WHEN the feast is spread in our country's

name,

When the nations are gathered from far

and near,

When East and West send up the same

Glad shout, and call to the lands, "Good cheer!"

When North and South shall give their bloom,

The fairest and best of the century born, Oh, then for the king of the feast make room! Make room, we pray, for the scarlet thorn!

Not the goldenrod from the hillsides blest,

Not the pale arbutus from pastures rare, Not the waving wheat from the mighty West, Nor the proud magnolia tall and fair Shall Columbia unto the banquet bring.

They, willing of heart, shall stand and wait; For the thorn, with his scarlet crown, is king. Make room for him at the splendid fête !

Do we not remember the olden tale?

And that terrible day of dark despair, When Columbus, under the lowering sail, VOL. XIX. 43.

Sent out to the hidden lands his prayer? And was it not he of the scarlet bough Who first went forth from shore to greet That lone grand soul, at the vessel's prow, Defying fate with his tiny fleet?

Grim treachery threatened, above, below,

And death stood close at the captain's side, When he saw-oh, joy!- in the sunset glow, The thorn-tree's branch o'er the waters

glide. "Land! Land ahead!" was the joyful shout;

The vesper hymn o'er the ocean swept; The mutinous sailors faced about; Together they fell on their knees and wept. At dawn they landed with pennons white; They kissed the sod of San Salvador; But dearer than gems on his doublet bright Were the scarlet berries their leader bore; Thorny and sharp, like his future crown, Blood-red, like the wounds in his great

heart made,

Yet an emblem true of his proud renown Whose glorious colors shall never fade.:

WHITE THORN.

AM asked to tell the readers of ST. NICHOLAS Something about the "Scarlet Thorn." But we have no scarlet thorn; that is, no one species to which this name is specially applied. When I was a boy I once went into a store and asked the merchant for a piece of "flowered calico." Some girl had asked me to contribute a "block" to her quilt. My people laughed at me when I told them, because they said all calico was "flowered." So I may say that all or nearly all thorn-apples are red, though I have occasionally seen a yellow variety. Every country boy and girl knows the thorn-tree, with its mass of white bloom in May and its mass of red fruit in the fall. Last September I spent some weeks in a farm-house situated high up on one of the pastoral slopes of the Catskills, and one of my favorite walks was to a thorn-tree that grew in a remote field on the mountain-side. It was loaded with pale-red fruit, which, the latter part of the month, was excellent. The mellower ones fell to the ground. I used to pick out the larger and fairer ones, and when I had eaten enough would fill my pockets to give the people at the house a treat. The cattle liked them, too, and often I would find the ground cleaned of them, but a little shake of the tree would bring down more. There were several thorn

APPLE HAW

trees that grew all about, but this particular one had fruit that surpassed all others in its quality. I had discovered when a boy that their fruit differed in this respect as much as did that of apple-trees. Nearer by the house were some thorn-trees that had unusually large fruit, but it was so hard and dry I could not eat it.

There are a great many species of the thorn distributed throughout the United States. All the northern species, so far as I know, have white flowers. In the South they are more inclined to be pink or roseate. If Columbus picked up at sea a spray of the thorn, it was doubtless some Southern species,- let us believe it was the Washington thorn, which grows on the banks of streams from Virginia to the Gulf, and loads heavily with small red fruit. One species of thorn in the South is called the apple-haw; its fruit is large, and is much used for tarts and jellies. The commonest species throughout New York and New England is probably the white thorn; its thorns and branches are of a whitish tinge, the fruit coralred. Our thorn-trees do not differ very much from the English hawthorn.

The thorn belongs to the great family of trees that includes the apple, peach, pear, raspberry, strawberry, etc.,- namely, the rose family, or Rosacea. Hence the apple, pear, and plum are often grafted on the white thorn.

A curious thing about the thorns is that they are suppressed or abortive branches. The ancestor of this tree must have been terribly abused some time, to have its branches turn to

thorns. Take a young apple-tree and use it roughly enough, put it in hard, stony soil, let the cattle browse it down and hook it and bruise it, and it will develop thorns almost as hard and quite as sharp as those of the thorntree; its tender branches become so discouraged and embittered that they turn almost to bone, and wound the hand that touches them. The seedling pear-tree is usually very thorny when young, much more so than the apple, which makes one think it is more recently out of the woods. As it grows older its manner in this respect improves.

An apple-tree or a thorn-tree in the fields. where the cattle can come at it, has a prolonged struggle for existence, and they both behave in about the same manner. They spread out upon all sides and grow very dense, crabbed, and thorny, till they have become so broad upon the ground that the cattle cannot

reach their central shoots; then quickly from the midst of this spiny mound up goes a stalk, and the tree has won the victory. After this stalk becomes a fully developed tree, in the case of the apple, the thorns disappear and the barrier of crabbed branches at its foot gradually dies down. But the thorn-tree does not get over its wrath so readily; it keeps its sharp, spiteful weapons as if to guard its fruit against some imaginary danger.

I have an idea that persistent cultivation and good treatment would greatly mollify the sharp temper of the thorn, if not change it completely.

The flower of the thorn would become us well as the national flower. It belongs to such a hardy, spunky, unconquerable tree, and to such a numerous and useful family. Certainly, it would be vastly better than the merely delicate and pretty wild flowers that have been so generally named.

He tramped off to the barnyard, but the goodwife was not satisfied.

She called the children from their romp in the out-kitchen, and, putting their bowls of porridge before them, took up a candle and entered the dark mill to examine its fastenings herself.

It was a warm, sweet, musty place. The rafters were half hidden by dusty festoons of cobwebs. The hoppers, which whirred and purred all day long for the family living, stood silent and dumb. The wooden wheel shutting off the sluices. lay well fastened back, and high in a corner was the pile of white bags, tied and billeted with wooden tally-sticks, and awaiting their owners.

"There's a smitch of good corn there," said the dame, leaning over to push her finger against a bag lest it were not filled to hard pressure. "Many a loaf of bread for Dale-Rill-side lies there, and corn 's none too plenty with the war and plundering all about us!" She sighed and went back to the living-room.