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THE DISCOVERER OF MADEIRA.

is the beginning of June: the year 1419. Two small ssels are leaving the port of Lisbon. The Infant Dom enry waves his hand from the quay, as the commander o e little expedition bows profoundly from the deck of the ading ship. That commander is Gonzalves Zarco.

Where is Gonzalves sailing when he trusts his ships to e broad bosom of the Atlantic? Where, without the tides of modern navigation? Charts he has none.

He

is heard that Marco Polo brought from China to Europe
e knowledge of an instrument that invariably pointed to
e North-but he doubts. He will hug the land as long
he can.
The meridian sun and the Polar star must
rect him in his need. His business is to find the Isles of
e West, of which ancient tradition imperfectly whispers.
1 1418, Gonzalves was engaged in exploring the coasts of
frica. He was shipwrecked on a little island, which he
ill now endeavour again to reach.

The seas are calm; the days are bright and long. If the
ights are dark, Gonzalves anchors. He is pretty certain
the course.
In due time he reaches the small island of
orto Santo, in which, last year, he left two or three of his

rew.

What is this strange relation which soon meets the ear of onzalves-a relation which is to give new ardour to his gacious courage, but which has terrors for his superstitious camen? On the north-east of the isle there appears, at a ong distance, a thick darkness-a motionless cloud--which angs over the sea, and reaches to the sky. That region of arkness-is it not the abyss? There, is the boundary of his earth; and beyond, is the entrance to the Shades. ometimes a distant murmur, as of troubled waters, comes

E

ONCE UPON A TIME.

across the sea. It is the rush of the mournful rive Acheron. Some say, that when the Christians fled fro oppression of the Moors and Saracens, they found an of refuge in this ocean; and that from that time a rious cloud covered that island, so that no enemy come near to harm them. Who shall dare to pierce: cloud, and solve these mysteries?

Gonzalves sits on the beach of Porto Santo, and again and again in the direction of that cloud. When morning sun shines bright in the east, the cloud is t When the moon climbs the sky, the cloudy distance is visible. It never changes its place; its form is alway Gonzalves will take counsel of Juan de Morales

same.

pilot.

str

Juan is many years younger than Gonzalves; yet forehead is wrinkled with cares that scarcely belong t young. He has passed his boyhood in captivity in Me He has done servile offices up to the period of man He has been chained to the oar, and rowed his taskma through many a perilous surf. There is something and mysterious about him. His messmates shun hi they say he is a Castilian, and an enemy to Portugal. has the Castilian steadiness, with more than Cast Misfortune has not abased him : he carries hi as loftily as the proudest of his countrymen; and yet k of a fairer complexion than those countrymen, and he spe G

reserve.

their language with a singular mixture of other dialects. even of other tongues. But that may come of his captivity amongst Christian slaves of all lands. Jus not popular: but Gonzalves has unbounded confidenc his pilot.

'Juan,' says Gonzalves, we will wait no longer. you still your opinion?'

'My belief is over the same.

a

It

Ju

Go

and unchanging, is a mountainous land, seen

That dark mass, so def of

constant mist.'

through

ing

Are

Glo

You have the confidence of knowledge, rather than conjecture. Did you ever hear speak of such a mountain and

d? In that quarter, leagues off, must lie the African serts.'

I have no knowledge-except my dreams be knowledge. dream of mountains, rising from the sea, covered with es to the very summits; of ravines, where rivers come shing down out of the mountain mists, and rush brightly the ocean; of a narrow beach under the mountains, here the waves break wildly, and yet how beautifully!' Juan! you must have seen such a land!'

Oh no! it is a dream-a dream of the poor ship-boy's neliness.'

We will sail to-morrow, Juan.'

'Good.'

'Say nothing; but steer us right to the cloud.'

The anchors are weighed in the dawn of a summer orning. A brisk breeze soon carries them away from orto Santo. There is a man of importance on board, ancis Alcaforado, a squire of Dom Henry's chamber. He keeping a diary of that voyage-a busy inquisitive man. Captain, where are you steering?'

To look for the Isles of the West.'

But you are sailing towards the darkness!'

I think they lie beyond the darkness.'

You are tempting Heaven. See, we are in the bosom of mist. There is no sun in the sky. Change your course, onzalves.'

'Sir, I must obey my commission.'

'Look! there is something darker still in the distance.' 'I have seen it before-it is land.'

Juan is at the helm. He steers boldly through the mist. is land. The sun is behind that mass of mountains. aan must be cautious; there are rocks in that sea. onzalves orders out the boats. There is a loud murmuring surf upon a shore not very distant. The sun is mountg out of the exhalation. The mist is rolling off. There e trees on the hills. The boats may near the shore. lory to Saint Lawrence! That eastern cape first seen, ad now doubled, shall be the Cape San Lourenço! All

are joyful but Juan de Moralès. It is not the land
dreams. The crew gather round the pilot-and gree
well. But he is silent.

There is a streamlet gushing down to the sea. Gonz commands the crew to disembark. A priest goes with t The water is blessed. The shore is blessed. The mander of the expedition proclaims that the myste cloud-land is a veritable possession of the King of Por

And now they coast carefully along in their boats. peer into the dark ravines, covered with everlasting for Again and again they land. Are there any inhabit Not a trace of human dwelling, not a footprint, not a that man has ever abided here. Birds of bright plu fly fearlessly about them. They come to a point four rivers join in their course to the sea. They fill flasks to carry that sparkling water to the banks yellow Tagus. They bring provisions on shore, an down in a green valley where gentle waterfalls are spars around. They penetrate a wood; the rough gales torn up some trees. They elevate one tree, and fe cross; they kneel, and the priest gives his benedi This point is Santa Cruz. They coast on; a tongue of stretches far out-a shady covert. Suddenly a fligh jays darkens the air. point of jays. Further on, another tongue of la This shall be Punta dos Gralhos covered with cedars, and this, with the Punta dos Gra forms a wooded bay. It shall be the bay of cea Another valley is reached, and here Gonzalves make attempt to ascend the high ground: he sees enou satisfy him that what he has discovered is an island. A Gonzalves leads the way in his boat, and reaches an space, where the land is not encumbered with the d growth of timber that has everywhere else met their The sea-beach to the foot of the mountains is covered w fennel, the funcho of the Portuguese. This beach sha

called Funchal.

What has happened to Juan de Moralès? He stirs n
He looks upon the sea-he looks up

he speaks not,

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Ea

for

me

Lis

pros

vine. Then he rushes to gaze upon the islets which the vers of that valley have formed in their perennial courses: smiles, he weeps; he sees something very like the land his dreams.

The ships have followed the course of the boats; but at wide berth from the land. They now come into the bay Funchal, and anchor in the river: here will the crew xt day take in wood and water. They cannot have a easanter harbour. They will sleep in security. The sea smooth; the air is balmy. The watch is set; and Juan, ough his duty is ended, is amongst the watchers. The pple of the river seems a familiar sound. He listens, as if expected some human voice to mingle with that murmur waters. The moon rises. The wooded ravine lies fore him in deep shadow; but here and there is a breadth silvery light. Is that the figure of a man moving on the ight greensward? The sea-breeze stirs the topmost Sanches of the cedars, and their shadows, Juan, make up e semblance of humanity.

7

On the morrow the island is again explored. No sign of ltivation-no trace of man. In the heart of the mountains ere are mighty chasms, into which the torrents rush, and rm gentle rivers. Cedars and chestnut-trees rise into the ggy summits of the highest peaks. Myrtles clothe the recipitous declivities. Deep caverns have been dug into e sides of the rocks by the untiring sea. Hush! there is noise as of the tread of men. A multitude of seals rush at from that hollow, with a sudden cry, and plunge into The waves. That point shall be Camara dos Lobos, the ive of seals. The navigation becomes more difficult. The urf is more dangerous on that rocky coast. Gonzalves ill return to his ships in the bay of Funchal. ager to be once more in the Tagus: he has brave tidings or Dom Henry. One such discovery is enough for a sumer.

He is

But what shall he call this noble island? He takes ounsel of the squire Alcaforado, who has been busy with is tablets incessantly. He will write a narrative of this rosperous voyage, which shall be deposited in the archives