peaceful afternoon of life. Being a pious Catholic, he took more pleasure in religious services than in those wild scenes of daring which had delighted his youth. His greatest wish was to see his eldest son become a priest. Estevan knew of the allurements to conquest so abundant in this New World; but he believed that if his son were once in the cloister he would be safe from the ambitions and dangerous enterprises of the romantic age. Perhaps because Señor Estevan had disappointed his mother, who designed him for the church, he was the more determined that his son should follow the holy calling.

The dark-eyed, robust Francisco had been taught from early childhood to look upon himself as dedicated to the service of God. Educational facilities in the New World were not of the best, yet some pious monks had established an academy at which a number of young men were instructed in the sciences, theology and philosophy. Francisco was an apt scholar. His mind was clear, strong, and vigorous; but, though he was consecrated to the church, he seemed ill-fitted for the sacred calling. His flashes of wit, his love of athletic sports, his daring courage and fondness for romantic adventures made him more soldier than priest. Francisco, however, was loyal to the wishes of his parents, though he sighed when he remembered that the

wonders of those far-off lands, rumors of which came in dreamy whispers to his ears, were never to be explored by him. His heart bounded in wild delight when he heard his father tell of heroic struggles with men and beasts in strange lands. The pious youth checked all these natural impulses, and lived a life of consecration. His tutors were

highly elated at his progress, and assured the anxious parents that their son would be prepared soon to don the sacerdotal robes.

Rodrigo, Francisco's brother, was nearly five years younger than the intended ecclesiastic. He resembled his brother in form and feature, and possessed to an eminent degree the same daring, chivalrous spirit. He loved the lance and the saddle more than study, and his tutor was the cavalier rather than the priest. Before he had reached his sixteenth year, he had participated in several expeditions by land and sea, and already had become conspicuous for his courage, prowess, and skill in horsemanship. Old cavaliers pronounced him the best swordsman in Cuba, and in friendly combat he had disarmed many a veteran.

Francisco was to set out for Spain to complete his ecclesiastical education under the old masters, and Rodrigo, though only sixteen, had determined to set forth in search of conquest and gold. grandfather had participated in the conquest of

His

Mexico, winning a fortune there, consequently the youngest scion of this proud old Spanish family had chosen Mexico as the field for his operations. In those days Mexico and Peru were the great Eldorados, concerning which the wildest rumors of fabulous wealth were afloat. The credulous Cubans believed all they heard, however extravagant. Beyond the borders of the conquered territory there hung a veil of mystery which only the wildest conjecture could penetrate. Imagination, for the time being, supplanted reason and peopled those unknown regions with strange beings and marvellous riches excelling in wonder the mythology of the ancients. Rodrigo longed to plunge into the unknown realms, and drag into the light of civilization the hidden wonders of this mysterious world, and all efforts to dissuade him from this mad purpose were unavailing.

"Let brother Francisco become a friar if such is his wish, but I will be a soldier," declared Rodrigo.

The day came for the departure of the sons, one to Spain and one to Mexico. Two vessels which were to bear them away from their native island lay anchored in the harbor, side by side. Morning dawned bright and clear, and all nature was smiling with gladness. Havana at an early hour presented a scene of bustle and confusion. The harbor was melodious with the songs of sailors, while from

the tropical forest, forming a semicircle about the town, came the sweetest music of those famous feathered warblers of the south.

In the home of Estevan there was more of sorrow than joy. Two beloved sons were about to depart for distant lands, and, in those troublous times, parents knew that many went and few returned. It would perhaps be the last time they would gaze on the faces of their children. Francisco and Rodrigo were on the balcony of the house when the sun rose.

"Rodrigo," said Francisco, seizing his brother's hand, "Many times have we stood thus and watched the sun rise. Does it occur to you this morning that we may never witness this glorious scene together again?"

"In truth, good brother, I had not thought about it at all."

"Where were your thoughts?"

"In the unknown regions I am to explore, Francisco. Pardon me if I am not as sober and sedate as my brother; I have no thoughts save for conquest.

"Yet, on this eventful morning, when we are to separate, perhaps never to meet again, might it not be well for the cavalier to give himself up to sober thought?"

It

"Where would be the use, my brother? would only make the heart ache. The ills which

we are to suffer will come full soon without brooding over prospective calamities; and when the day comes, if come it must, let us meet it bravely, I with the resolution of a soldier and you with the resignation of a priest."

"I must admit you are a philosopher as well as a soldier."

"Nay, do not credit me with qualities I do not possess. Call me a soldier with all a soldier's qualifications-nothing more."

"Philosophy is essential even to men of arms." "Then, so far as essential, let me be a philosopher; but I must confess, my brother, that the prospect of a brilliant career in Mexico robs our parting of its bitterness. I love my parents, brother, and sister, and I would belie my feelings were I to say I experience no regret, yet the thought of entering on a brilliant career to a great extent overbalances this sentiment."

Francisco gazed on the youthful face of his brother, lighted with a glow of enthusiasm, and heaved a sigh. Rodrigo, young as he was, had reached a man's stature, and his gallant figure made him an object of admiration. Francisco never saw him in the tourney on his fiery charger, caparisoned in glittering steel, that he did not wish to be like him.

"Brother," he said at last, breaking a silence