FROM CORDOVA TO CATHAY.

crossing the sands I could hail a fisherman in the main channel as he came in
from the sea. The carabinero took me to an ancient tower where his com-
panions were, two of whom rowed me in a boat to mid-channel, and I had the
good luck to catch a fisherman bound for Huelva. We sailed away with a spank-
ing breeze, arriving there in half an hour. Two men and a boy comprised the

 

IN THE CONVENT GARDEN.

crew, and an immense fish the catch. As we drew near the quay a boy drove
a mule-cart into the water, backed it up to the boat, and loaded us all into it,
cargo and crew. Once on shore, alittle urchin led the way to the railway station,
where I spent the time in gazing wistfully at Palos and La Rabida.

The convent lay shining against a bank of clouds; Palos, also, and Moguer
gleaming white against the hills. Two leagues away lay the sea; and I had
just ploughed the channel crossed by the world-seeking caravels four hundred
years ago. And so I left this historic triad of towns which had evoked for me
so many memories of the great century that joined the Old World with the New,
shining against the barren hills, as they have shone in memory ever since.

Frederick A. Ober.