After eating lunch at a table in the open air near by, Harry boarded Columbus’s “Santa Maria.” Coming directly from a modern cruiser, the quaint little cockle-shell was a pathetic witness to the great discoverer’s hardships. Harry went into the forecastle, looked at the queer old galley, the swivel-gun, the anchors, and wished that he had been aboard the original on that first westward trip. The modern vessels were scientific, correct, and fine, of course; but somehow Harry would rather have sailed the ocean blue in the days when the galley-fires flared fitfully on these pictured sails. [Illustration: “GUARDING” THE “NIÑA.”] He skipped the “Pinta” and “Niña,” sketching from the shore a sailor on the latter who was “guarding” the little vessel, only reflecting that those on the biggest vessel were better off than their fellows in these two, and went over to the Convent de la Rábida. Harry thought everybody knew about that building; but he met a group of three men, one of whom asked in all earnestness, “That hain’t the Fisheries Buildin’, is it?” Then the boy remembered how amused the great Napoleon was when they brought to his court a man who had never heard of him, of the Empire, or of the Revolution! Harry wondered whether there might not be in the Fair Grounds a few who hardly recalled having heard of a man named Columbus. Inside the convent were old charts, pictures, and manuscripts, to which Harry gave but a passing glance. But the open court inside at once gave him a sense of antiquity, and the tropical plants recalled thoughts of distant lands, until he caught sight of a tired man worrying a piece of mince-pie for lunch. He started to go out, and only paused before an old globe whereon the lands were full of odd pictures. [Illustration: THE NEW “SANTA MARIA” CROSSING THE OCEAN.] “Geography must have been like a book of fairy-stories then,” he thought as he left the convent door and came face to face with to-day. Oh, but he was tired! His legs ached, his back was lame, and he felt like the deacon’s “one-hoss shay”—as if he might give out “all at once and nothing first.” Seeing in the distance the movable sidewalk, it occurred to him that it was a good place for resting. The convent had been a little depressing. Others felt the same effect, for he heard one woman say, “I’m glad I’m not a monk”—and then, after a reflective pause—“nor a nun.” As he approached the traveling platform that ran on wheels far out along a pier, this cry met him: “This way for the movable sidewalk! An all-day ride for five cents—the cheapest thing on the grounds!” It was irresistible. Harry stepped on the slower platform, then to the quicker one, and dropped into a seat. It proved an excellent change. Out he glided upon the long pier, rested and cooled by the breeze and by the sight of the placid waters, now an opaline green in the afternoon light. Harry thought less of the scene than of his muscles.