Like Columbus, this Americus Vespucius was an Italian; like him, he was a daring sailor and a fearless adventurer, sailing into strange seas to see what he could find.  He saw more of the American coast than did Columbus, and not being so full of the gold-hunting and slave-getting fever as was the Admiral, he brought back from his four voyages so much information about the new-found lands across the sea, that scholars, who cared more for news than gold, became interested in what he reported.  And some of the map-makers in France, when they had to name the new lands in the West that they drew on their maps—­the lands that were not the Indies, nor China, nor Japan—­called them after the man who had told them so much about them—­Americus Vespucius.  And so it is that to-day you live in America and not in Columbia, as so many people have thought this western world of ours should be named.

And even the titles, and riches, and honors that the king and queen of Spain promised to Columbus came very near being lost by his family, as they had been by himself.  It was only by the hardest work, and by keeping right at it all the time, that the Admiral’s eldest son, Diego Columbus, almost squeezed out of King Ferdinand of Spain the things that had been promised to his father.

But Diego was as plucky, and as brave, and as persistent as his father had been; then, too, he had lived at court so long—­he was one of the queen’s pages, you remember that he knew just what to do and how to act so as to get what he wanted.  And at last he got it.

He was made Viceroy over the Indies; he went across the seas to Hayti, and in his palace in the city of Santo Domingo he ruled the lands his father had found, and which for centuries were known as the Spanish Main; he was called Don Diego; he married a high-born lady of Spain, the niece of King Ferdinand; he received the large share of “the riches of the Indies” that his father had worked for, but never received.  And the family of Christopher Columbus, the Genoese adventurer—­under the title of the Dukes of Veragua—­have, ever since Don Diego’s day, been of what is called “the best blood of Spain.”

If you have read this story of Christopher Columbus aright, you must have come to the conclusion that the life of this Italian sea captain who discovered a new world was not a happy one.  From first to last it was full of disappointment.  Only once, in all his life, did he know what happiness and success meant, and that was on his return from his first voyage, when he landed amid cheers of welcome at Palos, and marched into Barcelona in procession like a conqueror to be received as an equal by his king and queen.

Except for that little taste of glory, how full of trouble was his life!  He set out to find Cathay and bring back its riches and its treasures.  He did not get within five thousand miles of Cathay.  He returned from his second voyage a penitent, bringing only tidings of disaster.  He returned from his third voyage in disgrace, a prisoner and in chains, smarting under false charges of theft, cruelty and treason.  He returned from his fourth voyage sick unto death, unnoticed, unhonored, unwelcomed.