_A sob and a moan from the ocean; a voice from the swaying palm,_ _As a parroquet, brilliant with spangles, chatters and clatters alarm._ _For a man stands gazing seaward, a man who is pale and worn,_ _With a lean hand shading his forehead, a doublet faded and torn._ _“I take you, O brilliant waters, for the King and Queen of Castile_ _And I name you the Southern Ocean, Ye must know how joyous I feel._ _For, from lands that are distant and foreign, I sailed to view and explore,_ _And what I have seen is o’erpowering; what I behold, I adore.”_ _And the parroquet chattered and scolded, and the waters lay calm and gray,_ _As Balboa, who found the Pacific, gazed and dreamed through the day._ VASCO NUÑEZ DE BALBOA: DISCOVERER OF THE PACIFIC OCEAN. (1475-1517) IT is something to be a discoverer of anything. It must give the one who has that happy fate a great thrill of satisfaction. He should know that his name will go down to history as a man of particular eminence. Yet, do you think that any of these early Spanish voyagers held that thought? I doubt whether either De Soto, or Balboa, ever had any extraordinary feeling of elation when they had feasted their eyes upon the two great sheets of water, which, as far as we know, they were the first white men to set eyes upon; the first, the Mississippi; the second, the vast Pacific Ocean. Once I thought that I had discovered a wide plateau upon the summit of the Rockies. I knew that I was in an unexplored region which had never been mapped, and, as I scrambled to a high eminence to look down upon the headwater of a curving stream, I turned to my companion, exclaiming: “This is magnificent! We are turning our eyes upon a scene of verdant beauty upon which no one but the wild Cheyenne, or roving Blackfoot warrior has ever gazed before! I feel thrilled! I feel awed! I feel in the same way that Columbus must have felt, when—” “He saw that tomato can lying down there in that sage bush,” interrupted my companion, dryly, and sure enough—some accursed white man had been there before me! It was a drop from the sublime to the ridiculous! But Vasco Nuñez de Balboa, when he stood upon the shores of the Pacific, was aware that he was the first Spaniard to set eyes upon this particular sheet of water, because he had learned from the Indians that such an ocean existed, and, so far, no explorer had yet come to Spain who had brought word of it. The accounts of the scene say that he was thrilled and awed by the vision which came to him, and that, realizing, when approaching the water, that he was about to view an ocean which no other European had ever seen, he left his party behind him, so that no one else should share his honor. This shows a selfishness which is quite characteristic of these early Spanish adventurers and discoverers.