the devil, 'who lies in wait, secretly, as a lion in his den: he lieth in wait to catch the poor: he doth catch the poor, when he draweth him into his net.' (Psalm 10. 9.) And very often children think not of their danger--are not upon their guard though they have been told a thousand times, 'Be sober, be vigilant: because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.' (1 Pet. 5.8.)

6

See him in the temple standing,
Lo, his eyes he daren't raise,
While his humble supplication

Out before his God he lays.
His is not a boastful prayer,

Like that of the Pharisee; It is one of earnest longing,

'God be merciful to me!'

Yea, and more, for, standing lowly,
'Neath that consecrated roof,
There he calls himself a sinner,'
Heedless of the world's reproof.
And that'sinner's' earnest prayer,
'God be merciful to me,'
Was by HIM accepted rather
Than that of the Pharisee.

EMINENT MEN

LENA A.

OF THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES.

COLUMBUS.

IN N a fine light of enthusiasm, yet sad; sad as beautiful things so often are, stands out from all the men of his time, the figure of Christopher Columbus.

The exact date of his birth is unknown; 1456, or a few years later, the early historians say. He was born in Genoa, and studied in the great School of Pavia. In 1470 he came to Lisbon, married the daughter of the Portuguese navigator Palestrello, and settled into what seemed a quiet life, busying himself for a livelihood by making charts and maps.

But a great thought broke upon him while he worked. God put the thought into his heart. Far away to the westward, far over the sunset sea, there lay an unknown land which he, Columbus, must find. Columbus felt it like an inspiration. God had given him this to do to plant the cross in the sunset far through mysterious space, in some undiscovered region across the untracked sea. Columbus felt that he must do his work. With what long patience he did it, with what noble fervour and simplicity, can never be truly toïd,

But how should he do it? for Columbus was poor enough. And to hear him tell his strange thought, was like a fairy poem to

which the people listened and smiled, as they might listen and smile now at the fables of their own early history.

But the people who bartered keenly in the streets, and were filled with their gossips and their slanders, could not know this which was clear to Christopher Columbus. He applied to King John of Portugal. King John was but like his subjects. From him neither did he find any understanding or aid. A silly vision, the king like his people thought it. His wife was dead, and his home desolate. Columbus took his little boy Diego with him and left Lisbon to go where God should lead.

Weary and hungry, he travelled through Andalusia, and stopped one day at the gate of the convent of La Rabida. It was to beg bread and water for his little motherless boy. The superior of the convent was at that moment passing the gate, and struck by the noble stranger so tender and so stately and so poor, stopped with a courteous greeting, and they talked together in the gate. Soon Juan Perez de Marchena discovered that this was no common wayfarer. The tide of Columbus's life had turned; Marchena became his friend.

Marchena had interest at court which procured for Columbus at last, although slowly indeed, the aid he needed for his voyage. It was seven years before he was provided with the three ships necessary. On the morning of the third August, 1492, the ships lay in the little port of Palos in Andalusia, ready for the unknown* sea. 'Ferdinand and Isabella, Lords of the oceanseas, constituted Christopher Columbus their admiral, viceroy and governor-general of all such island and continents as he should discover in the western ocean.' Holding this high commission, Columbus went on board his ship. Solemn religious services were held upon the deck, and while all the air was still filled with the prayers and blessings of the people, the Spanish coast grew dim, and the mariners went out to that mysterious sea where ships had never sailed before.

A brave and able seaman was the Admiral Columbus. Do not suppose all

his waiting years had been years of waiting in idleness. He was skilled in navigation and astronomy, and had sailed many waters in the world. He knew all a seaman should know, and, full of religious faith and the lofty enthusiasm of his vocation, he could not comprehend fear. Much all his gifts were required. When they sailed week after week, and no land appeared, the seamen murmured secretly, and then complained aloud. They demanded that Columbus should turn the ship back, and take them home again to Spain.

'Were there no grave within our land they cry
That thou hast brought us to the deep to die?'
Silent with sorrow, long within his cloak,
His face he muffled then the hero spoke:
'Generous and brave! when God Himself is here
Why shake at shadows in your mid career?
He can suspend the laws Himself designed,
He walks the waters and the winged wind;
Himself your guide! and yours the high behest
To lift your voice, and bid a world be blest.

Yet, in His name, whom only we shall fear,
'Tis all, all, I shall ask, or you shall hear,
Grant but three days.'-He spoke not uninspired,
And each in silence to his watch retired.

You may imagine what anxious days these were to Columbus. The hope of his youth almost dying out of him, this that he had fondly and fervently believed to be God's mission for him, cherished through long years of hardship and scorn, his mission unaccomplished, his hopes shattered, could Columbus bear this? yet the men were mutinous, and he had given his word that, if on the third day no land appeared he would yield to their demands, and turn back his ship, and seek no more to find the land of the sunset. Two days passed and still around them there was nothing but the waste of sea. The evening hymn was sung, and the long glory of the sunset faded from the lonely water; tomorrow the ship would be homeward bound. So the sailors believed, but not so Columbus.

He stood in the prow of his ship, looking out. The God of his faith would not fail him now, in this sharp trial hour.

In Roger's Poems there is a little picture

drawn by the great painter Turner, in which this moment of Columbus's life is described as words refuse to describe it. If you know the picture, linger over it a while, for many and finest sentences will not teach you all the solemn loneness of that moment, as this little picture will. High on the prow he stands with folded arms, and so still; and the darkness is round him, but the darkness is broken by the moon, a crescent moon which makes ripples of light on the water, and casts one white glimmer along the low horizon. Far out on the low horizon, Columbus's eyes are strained, and there they catch the first glimpse of the new world.

When the slow morning broke, there it lay before them-hill and richest wood, a soft and lovely shore.

'O say when all to holy transport given, Embraced and wept, as at the gates of heaven, When one and all of us important ran And, on our faces, blessed the wondrous Man: Say was I then deceived, or from the skies Burst on my ears seraphic harmonies? 'Glory to God!' unnumbered voices sung, 'Glory to God!' the vales and mountains rung, Voices that hailed creation's final morn, And to the shepherds sung a Saviour born.'

This is supposed to be by one who went with Columbus-an account of the rapture and wonder of the mariners when they found, after all their sickness and despair, that the Admiral's visions were true.

A proud return Columbus had in the early spring of 1493. As he passed through the streets of Seville, every window and housetop was crowded with people, who eagerly waited to catch but a glimpse of the hero. And the hero was one to admire, as well as love, old stories and portraits say. Blue, far-seeing eyes, with the dreamy beauty of his noble thoughts lighting them up into splendour; an aquiline nose; abundant hair, which yet was bleached to whiteness before he had seen thirty years; a majestic presence; a winning eloquence of speech; these, with his unspotted honour, his tender care of those beneath him, his loyal love to the queen-are gifts and graces which sufficiently explain the enthusiastic plaudits of the people.