[Footnote 1:  It is remarkable that these phenomena still remain among the mysteries of nature.]

[Footnote 2:  Te tua fata docebo.  Virg.——­Saprai di tua vita il viaggio.  Dante.]

[Footnote 3:  P. Martyr.  Epist, 133. 152.]

[Footnote 4:  When he entered the Tagus, all the seamen ran from all parts to behold, as it were some wonder, a ship that had escaped so terrible a storm.  F. Columbus, c. 40.]

[Footnote 5:  I wrote on a parchment that I had discovered what I had promised! —­and, having put it into a cask, I threw it into the sea.  Ibid. c. 37.]

[Footnote 6:  See the Eumenides of AEschylus, v. 305, &c.]

[Footnote 7:  Clavigero.  VII. 52.]

[Footnote 8:  See the Eumenides. v. 246.]

[Footnote 9:  One of these, on account of his extraordinary sagacity and fierceness, received the full allowance of a soldier.  His name was Bezerillo.]

[Footnote 10:  No unusual effect of an exuberant vegetation.  ’The air was so vitiated,’ says an African traveller, ’that our torches burnt dim, and seemed ready to be extinguished; and even the human voice lost its natural tone.’]

[Footnote 11:  See Washington’s farewell address to his fellow-citizens.]

[Footnote 12:  See Paradise Lost.  X.]

[Footnote 13:  Cortes, Pizarro.—­’Almost all,’ says Las Casas, ’have perished.  The innocent blood, which they had shed, cried aloud for vengeance; the sighs, the tears of so many victims went up before God.’]

[Footnote 14:  L’Espagne a fait comme ce roi insense qui demanda que tout ce qu’il toucheroit se convertit en or, et qui fut oblige de revenir aux dieux pour les prier de finir sa misere.  Montesquieu.]

On the two last leaves, and written in another hand, are some stanzas in the romance or ballad measure of the Spaniards.  The subject is an adventure soon related.

Thy lonely watch-tower, Larenille,
Had lost the western sun;
And loud and long from hill to hill
Echoed the evening-gun,
When Hernan, rising on his oar,
Shot like an arrow from the shore. 
—­“Those lights are on St. Mary’s Isle;
They glimmer from the sacred pile.” [Footnote 1]
The waves were rough; the hour was late. 
But soon across the Tinto borne,
Thrice he blew the signal-horn,
He blew and would not wait. 
Home by his dangerous path he went;
Leaving, in rich habiliment,
Two Strangers at the Convent-gate.

They ascended by steps hewn out in the rock; and, having asked for admittance, were lodged there,

Brothers in arms the Guests appear’d;
The Youngest with a Princely grace! 
Short and sable was his beard,
Thoughtful and wan his face. 
His velvet cap a medal bore,
And ermine fring’d his broider’d vest;
And, ever sparkling on his breast,
An image of St. John he wore. [Footnote 2]

The Eldest had a rougher aspect, and there was craft in his eye.  He stood a little behind in a long black mantle, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword; and his white hat and white shoes glittered in the moon-shine. [Footnote 3]