that he arrived, but that he was impelled, irresistibly as it were, to
make the attempt. He made it, because it was the one thing left in the
world that seemed worth doing; it was the only apparent way of escape from
the despair of the familiar and habitual; it was an adventure charged with
all unknown possibilities; once conceived, it must be executed at whatever
cost. Columbus was fascinated; the unknown drew him like a magnet; he was
the involuntary deputy of his period to incarnate its yearnings in act.
The hour had struck; and with it, as always, appeared the man. So it has
ever been in the history of the world; though we, with characteristic
vanity, uniformly put the cart before the horse, and declare that it is
the man that brings the hour.

Be that as it may, Columbus was fitted out with three boats by the
Spanish king and queen, set sail from Spain on the 3d of August, 1492, and
arrived at one of the Caribbean islands on the 12th of October of the same
year. He supposed that he had found an East Indian archipelago; and with
the easy emotional piety of his time and temperament, he fell on his knees
and thanked God, and took possession of everything in sight in the name of
Ferdinand and Isabella.

The deed had been done, and Columbus had his reward. It would have been
well for him had he recognized this fact, and not tried to get more. He
had found land on the other side of the Atlantic; what no other man had
believed possible, he had accomplished; he had carried his point, and
proved his thesis--or one so much resembling it that he never knew the
difference. This, and not a more sordid hope, had been the real motive
power of his career up to this time; and the moment when the light from
another world gleamed across the water to his hungry eyes had been the
happiest that he had ever known, or would know. A mighty hope had been
fulfilled; the longing of an age had been gratified in his triumph; a