hand though other men fail; nor, if we bear in mind the credulous spirit of the age and nation, is it marvellous that the astute statesman relates wondrous miracles, even to healing the sick and raising the dead, that he performed, proving that it was, as he himself says, “the visible hand of God” that protected him in his perilous roamings. Thus it happens that his work is “disfigured by bold exaggerations and the wildest fictions,” tasking even Spanish credulity to such an extent that Barcia prefaced his edition of it with an _Examen Apologetico_ by the erudite Marquis of Sorito, who, marshalling together all miraculous deeds recorded, proves conclusively that Alvar Nuñez tells the truth as certainly as many venerable abbots and fathers of the Church. However much this detracts from its trustworthiness, it is invaluable for its ethnographical data, and as the only extant history of the expedition, the greatest miracle of all still remaining, that half a dozen unprotected men, ignorant of the languages of the natives and of their proper course, should have safely journeyed three thousand miles, from the bay of Apalache to Sonora in Mexico, through barbarous hordes continually engaged in internecine war. Of the many eventful lives that crowd the stormy opening of American history, I know of none more fraught with peril of every sort, none whose story is more absorbing, than that of Cabeza de Vaca. The unfortunate termination of Narvaez’s undertaking had settled nothing. Tales of the fabulous wealth of Florida still found credence in Spain; and it was reserved for Hernando de Soto to disprove them at the cost of his life and fortune. There are extant five original documents pertaining to his expedition. First of these in point of time is his commission from the emperor Charles V.[3] The next is a letter written by himself to the Municipality of Santiago,[4] dated July 9, 1539, describing his voyage and disembarkation. Besides its historical value, which is considerable as fixing definitely the time and manner of his landing, it has additional interest as the only known letter of De Soto; short as it is, it reveals much of the true character of the man. The hopes that glowed in his breast amid the glittering throng on the quay of San Lucar de Barrameda are as bright as ever: “Glory be to God,” he exclaims, “every thing occurs according to His will; He seems to take an especial care of our expedition, which lives in Him alone, and Him I thank a thousand times.” The accounts from the interior were in the highest degree encouraging: “So many things do they tell me of its size and importance,” he says, speaking of the village of Ocala, “that I dare not repeat them.” Blissful ignorance of the old cavalier, over which coming misfortune cast no presageful shadow!