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M. E. S.

THE

SON OF COLUMBUS

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ON a bright October noon in 1491 two lads sat in a small tower room in the monastery of La Rabida, talking together with that profound interest which two human beings feel, who have recently met and whose lives will be closely united for some time to come. One of them was Don Felipe de Langara y Gama, already, at sixteen, the head of one of the greatest ducal families in Castile. The other was Diego, the eldest son of the Genoese navigator and map-maker, by name, Christopher Columbus, or, as the Spaniards called him, Christobal Colon.

The lads were fine types of two extremes of station. Diego was a model of sturdy strength for his age. He inherited the piercing blue eyes of the Genoese navigator—those commanding eyes, once seen, were unforgettable. His fair skin was freckled by living much in the open, and his wide, frank mouth expressed resolution as well as a charming gaiety of heart. Diego, however, could be serious enough when occasion required. He had known more in his short life of the rubs of fortune, of hope deferred, of splendid dreams and heartbreaking disappointments, of courts, of camps, of penury, of luxury, than many men know in the course of a long span of years.