FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

this very port of Palos, and sailed away with its sailor-citizens to the discovery
of a continent; and though since then the cynosure of all eyes, little Palos has
slumbered on unmindful of itsfame. One by oneits prosperous men were gath-
ered out of sight; one by one its houses sank to ruins; one by one its fleets were
depleted of its vessels, until naught remains save the memory of its greatness.

About three miles beyond Palos, passing through scenery unattractive and
sad, you sight some clumps of trees. Then a hill rises against the sky.
Slowly climbing, you bring the roofs and cupolas of a lone white building into
view; they are found to pertain to a convent structure of the olden style. It is
a rambling building but compactly inclosed within a high wall, and is extremely
picturesque. I was very fortunate, later on, in securing a fine photograph of it,
as clouds lay massed beyond and a flock of sheep slowly grazed before it.

And it was thus I found it, this Convent of La Rabida, at the gate of which
Columbus halted to request refreshment for his son. How he came to such a
secluded place as La Rabida, no one has explained; but he probably made for
the coast of Spain, thinking perhaps to obtain a vessel at Huelva, then, as now,
a shipping port to foreign parts. Indeed, this very spot is the Tarshish of the
Bible, and the Phoenicians came here more than two thousand years ago; those
men of Tyre, who discovered a passage between the Pillars of Hercules.

But Columbus came here, halted at the gate (the arched entrance at the
right), and the prior of the convent chanced to see him and to enter into con-
versation with him. Struck by his dignified appearance, and also by his evident
learning, the prior invited him to tarry a while, and soon he had his visitor’s
story: it was a tale of long-deferred plans, of wearisome waiting and of crushing
defeat. That very night the prior caused his mule to be saddled and started for
Granada, pursuing the same weary road through Palos and Moguer that I have
traversed (only he was not favored by steam or stage) to the camp, perhaps two
hundred miles away.

The convent to-day is in excellent preservation, having been carefully re-
stored and placed in the care of a faithful old soldier. I found the family in
possession so simple and so kindly disposed, that I craved permission to pass the
day and night there, which they readily granted. So, paying my donkey boy
double wages, and sending him back to Mogeur with a kind message for the
friendly landlord, I was soon placed in control of the convent, isolate from all
the world. Not Fray Perez could have possessed it more completely. I wan-
dered at will through its corridors, its cloisters and vacant refectory ; I rambled
over the hills back and beyond the convent — hills covered with artemisia and
stunted pines — and indulged in solitary reverie to my heart’s content.

Climbing the winding stairway to the mirador, I had before me through the
arched openings, broad vistas of the river and the sea. Directly beneath, the
hill sloped rapidly to the half-submerged lands of the river and sound. Half-
way down its slope was a date-palm, said to have been there in the time of Colum-