The old soldier in charge of the convent, Don Cristobal Garcia, the concerge, was evidently straitened in circumstances, yet he was cheerful, and his hospitality shone forth resplendently. He laughingly informed me that he rejoiced in the same name as Columbus, Cristobal; but, he added, he had never done anything to make it illustrious. He and his family lived in a primitive and even pitiful state-at meal times gathering around a common platter; but my own meals they served me on snowy linen at a table apart. There were six of them: the old man, his wife, a little girl named Isabel, some twelve years old, and three boys. Isabel, poor child, pattered about the stone pavement with bare feet; but they were pretty feet, and her little brown ankles were neatly turned. There was another member of the family, evidently an intruder, a little chap clad solely in a short shirt, who had squint eyes and a great shock of bristly black hair. Don Cristobal told me that he was a descendant of one of the Indians brought to Spain from America on the first voyage; and as the child's face was certainly that of an Indian, I was more than half inclined to believe the story. The little people were delighted with the peeps I gave them

through my camera, and capered about with delight at the sight of the court. and its flowers spread out before them in miniature, and nearly jumped out of their jackets at the image of the grave old concerge standing on his head. "Mira! Mira!" they exclaimed, and gazed at me with awe and wonder.

Don Cristobal gave me a bed in one of the cloister-cells the very one, he assured me, that Columbus occupied. I slept well through the night. It was a disappointment to me that I did not dream and receive a visitation from some steel-clad hidalgo, or from a girdled monk or two. At six in the morning I was awakened by the good concerge, who inquired if Don Federico would not like a little refreshment. Don Federico would; and well he did, for it was three or four hours before he received a hint of breakfast. The eldest boy had gone to Palos for twenty cents' worth of meat and two eggs, making apparent the poverty of my host. He did not return until ten, and then we had breakfast; and there were the two eggs, which the mistress could not have regarded more proudly had they been golden, for they were very scarce at that time in Palos, and it was waiting on a hen's pleasure that caused the boy's delay. He had been told to bring back two eggs, and if two hens had not happened along quite opportunely, I might have been waiting that boy's return to this day.

The rain had fallen all the forenoon and had made the convent cold and cheerless, so a fire was built in the fireplace of the ancient monks, and as it

crackled and leaped in the huge chimney throat, we were warmed to our very hearts. After the rain had ceased, and while the sun was struggling fiercely with the clouds, we ate our dinner in the corridor, which ran around a court or patio open to the sky. This court was filled with flowers; vines crept up the pillars; figs and oranges had possessed themselves of space enough for luxuriant growth. From it many cloisters opened out, but there was one, still farther in, where the chamber-cells of the monks were very numerous. Off at one side is the chapel where it is said Columbus knelt in prayer, and on the opposite side a passage leads to the refectory, where the stone benches on which the good monks sat are empty and chill.

Climbing a narrow stairway, you come to a corner room overlooking the Rio Tinto a large square room, with floor of earthen tiles and ceiling of cedar, with dark beams overhead. This is the "Columbus Room," where the great Admiral, the Prior and the learned Doctor held the famous consultation which resulted in the monk's intercession with Isabella. Many a painting has represented this historic scene, perhaps none more faithfully than the one hung in the room itself. An immense table—old, but sturdy still, and around which the great men are said to have gathered - occupies the center of the room, and on it is the tintero, or inkstand, said to have been used by them. Around the wall are hung several excellent pictures: one representing the discovery of land, one showing Columbus at the convent gate, another the consultation, the embarkation at Palos, the publication of the king's commands, and the final departure.

I wonder if the old monks of the days gone by enjoyed, as I did, the seclusion of the place and the sunset view from the mirador? In pleasant weather, when the hot sun shines, it must be supremely attractive to one sitting in the shade and looking forth upon the sea. Drowsy insects hum outside, the half-suppressed noises of maritime life float in on the breeze, and lively swallows fly in and out, twittering to one another as they seek their nests. Ah! pleasant mirador, overlooking the historic Rio Tinto and the sea. The view afforded here comprises the scenes attendant upon the momentous departure. Right before us, on the Domingo Rubio, it was, that Columbus careened his vessels and took aboard his stores, just before setting sail; somewhere near the mole he took his final farewell of the good prior, the last, best friend he had in Spain; and beyond the sand-spits glimmer the breakers on the Bar of Saltes.

Down the stream, beyond the Tinto, glide lateen-sails toward the bar the sailors crossed in 1492. Don Cristobal went down to engage passage for me in a mystick, or little sloop, that was lading with ballast at the river bank, and soon I followed him to the mole, where a carabinero rowed me across the inlet. It was on, or near, this very spot that Columbus cleared for his voyage; and what thoughts filled my mind as I tarried here! But not a thought had the men for aught save their sand, which they would take to Huelva and sell for ballast. If I would wait I was welcome to a passage; but they thought that by

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 companions 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 spanking breeze, arriving there in half an hour. Two men and a boy comprised the

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, a little 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.

SWP.

SPRINTING AND HURDLING.

A CHAMPION SPRINTER.

PEED, although a natural gift, can be thoroughly developed only by a judicious system of training. One evening last June I saw on Holmes Field, in Cambridge, a number of "town" boys, ranging from sixteen to twenty years old, in the act of "training" - probably for some of the Fourth of July picnic-games about Boston.

Some of the boys were tearing wildly about the track as if running for a record; others had thrown themselves on the grass, exhausted by the unusual exercise.

A young man with a stop-watch in his hand called out to a very wearylooking darky who had thrown himself face-downward on the grass:

"Let's see, Jo, what you training for?"

"Quarter," was the reply.

"What ye' done to-night?"

"Feel like being timed a quarter?"

"Well, I reckon I'll run one first 'n' see how m' wind is."

So up jumped the colored sprinter; he ran around the track at a smart pace, and then ran his quarter-mile on time.

Absurd as it seemed, it was but the exaggeration of the common fault of all beginners—a tendency to do more than is good for them.

There is no better athletic sport than running; none which should bring with it less danger of physical injury, and none which demands so small an amount of time daily for practice or getting into "form." Lasting and serious harm, however, may result from improper training.

The boy who desires to enter for a foot-race should, first of all, be sure that his heart is strong; he should assure himself that he has no special weakness which the strain of competition might aggravate.

He probably knows whether his abilities lie in the direction of long or short distances. Only actual trials and racing experience, however, can determine for just what distance he is best fitted. The most popular distances with amateurs in America are the one hundred yards' dash, the two hundred and twenty yards' dash, quarter-mile, half-mile and mile runs. five-mile runs are less often attempted, and the still longer distances are seldom covered except in "crosscountry" running.

If the beginner intends to "sprint' that is, run the short distances up to a quarter-mile- he had better, for a few days, take slow jogs of three hundred or four hundred yards.

The three-mile and

THE STANDING START.

Having accustomed his muscles to the exercise, he should vary this work every other day by running at speed for about two thirds of the distance he intends to make his specialty. If it be the hundred-yard dash, he should do it twice, with a few minutes' rest between each dash. The slow work will serve to strengthen the muscles and the quick work to keep them limber.

After ten days or two weeks of such work, the sprinter should be able to make a fast trial without feeling any ill effects. Much more time than this is, however, necessary to get into perfect condition for a race.

This system of work may, as a rule, be applied to all the distances. A mile runner, however, should not begin by running a mile and a half or two miles ; a half-mile run is quite enough for the first day's training.

Much of the time of the short-distance runner needs to be devoted to "starting," as the ability to get quickly under way after the signal pistol is fired, can come only with practice and experience.

In all races the starter gives two preliminary commands to the men before sending them off. At the first"On your marks!"- the men are supposed to take their positions on the track; they may, if they like, scrape out small holes to prevent the feet from slipping in starting. Then the word comes: "Set!" when the contestants get in position, ready for the signal "Go." As every false start entails the penalty of being set back, it is necessary that this position should be a steady one. There are two prominent styles of starting, each of which, however, has its modifications.

THE COMBINATION START.

First, there is the standing start, which is used by all long-distance runners and by some sprinters. The runner plants one foot on the "scratch," or starting line, the other foot is placed from twenty inches to a yard back, then throwing the weight as far forward as is possible without losing the balance, with one arm thrust forward and the other back, he is "set."