The land was clearly seen about two leagues distant, whereupon they took in sail and waited impatiently for the dawn. The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself. It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man at such a moment, or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind as to the land before him, covered with darkness. A thousand speculations must have swarmed upon him, as with his anxious crews he waited for the night to pass away, wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, or dawn upon spicy groves and glittering fanes and gilded cities, and all the splendor of oriental civilization. THE FIRST TO GREET COLUMBUS. EMMA HUNTINGTON NASON. A poem in _St. Nicholas_, July, 1892, founded upon the incident of Columbus' finding a red thorn bush floating in the water a few days before sighting Watling's Island. When the feast is spread in our country's name, When the nations are gathered from far and near, When East and West send up the same Glad shout, and call to the lands, "Good cheer!" When North and South shall give their bloom, The fairest and best of the century born. Oh, then for the king of the feast make room! Make room, we pray, for the scarlet thorn! Not the golden-rod from the hillsides blest, Not the pale arbutus from pastures rare, Nor the waving wheat from the mighty West, Nor the proud magnolia, tall and fair, Shall Columbia unto the banquet bring. They, willing of heart, shall stand and wait, For the thorn, with his scarlet crown, is king. Make room for him at the splendid fete! Do we not remember the olden tale? And that terrible day of dark despair, When Columbus, under the lowering sail, Sent out to the hidden lands his prayer? And was it not he of the scarlet bough Who first went forth from the shore to greet That lone grand soul at the vessel's prow, Defying fate with his tiny fleet? Grim treachery threatened, above, below, And death stood close at the captain's side, When he saw--Oh, joy!--in the sunset glow, The thorn-tree's branch o'er the waters glide. "Land! Land ahead!" was the joyful shout; The vesper hymn o'er the ocean swept; The mutinous sailors faced about; Together they fell on their knees and wept.