enter into the feeling of a kind-hearted man who told me that he never could look at a number of little children but the tears came into his eyes.  How much these young creatures have to bear yet!  I think you can, as you look at them, in some degree understand and sympathize with the Redeemer, who, when he “saw a great multitude, was moved with compassion toward them”!  Ah, you smooth little face, (you may think,) I know what years will make of you, if they find you in this world!  And you, light little heart, will know your weight of care!

And I remember, as I write these concluding lines, who they were that the Best and Kindest this world ever saw liked to have near him; and what the reason was he gave why he felt most in his element when they were by his side.  He wished to have little children round him, and would not have them chidden away; and this because there was something about them that reminded him of the Place from which he came.  He liked the little faces and the little voices,—­he to whom the wisest are in understanding as children.  And oftentimes, I believe, these little ones still do his work.  Oftentimes, I believe, when the worn man is led to him in childlike confidence, it is by the hand of a little child.

* * * * *

THE REHABILITATION OF SPAIN.

Three hundred and fifty years ago, a Spanish gentleman sailed on a cruise that may be considered remarkable even in the history of the wonderful adventures of the age of Columbus and Da Gama.  Juan Ponce de Leon, having lost the government of Porto Rico, resolved to discover a world for himself, and so become as renowned as “The Admiral.”  With the strong fanaticism of his time and his race, he believed that there was a third world to be found, and that it “had been saved up” for him, a gentleman of Leon, and a loyal subject of their Catholic Majesties, who had done good service for his sovereigns and the faith in Granada, and later in the Indies.  While he was thinking of the course in which he should sail, he was told that to the North there lay a land which not only contained unlimited gold, and many other material good things, but also a fountain of such marvellous nature that to bathe in it was to secure the return of youth.  This revival of an old classic story[A] fired the imagination of the adventurous cavalier, and he sailed forthwith (March 3, 1512) in search of a land so rich in things that all men, from philosophers to politicians, desire to have,—­perfect health and boundless wealth.  We need not say that Ponce de Leon failed as completely as if he had sailed in search of the Northwest Passage, for he died in less than ten years, a worn-out old man, aged beyond his years, leaving little gold behind him, and presenting at his parting hour anything but the appearance of youth.  He was a type of the Spaniards of those days, who believed everything, and whose valor was as great as their credulity; and his cruise in search of the Fontaine de Jouvence was quite worthy of a native of a country which seems to be allowed the privilege of an occasional “dip” into that fountain, though at long intervals, but is denied the power of constantly bathing in it.