Darien were rife in Heylyn's time as well as
now; only that in those days Spain, and not
England, was the enterprising nation; but
see how Peter frowns upon such things as
being impious. " I have read," said he, " of
many the like attempts begaune, but never
of any finished . . . . God, it seemeth, being
not pleased at such proud and haughty
enterprises. And yet," he adds cautiously,
"perhaps the want of treasure hath not beene the
least cause why the like projects have not
proceeded; besides the dreadfull noyses and
apparitions which continually affrighted the
workmen." lhe present speculators had best
look to this last-mentioned danger.

The remote is always allied to the wonderful;
and the distant lands of the earth are
filled with monstrosities and marvels, until
repeated inter-communication has destroyed
the charm. We have already seen this in
connexion with Asia and Africa; and America
is no exception to the rule. A few instances,
before we close our book, and end our discursive
flight, will give the reader a further
specimen of this strange faculty of the human
mind; though it should be remembered that
some of the stories here quoted may have a
root in fact. One of the chief towns in
Guiana, says Heylyn, is El Dorado, "the
greatest city of America, and, as some relate,
of the world, too. For Deigo Ordas, one of
the companions of Cortez, is sayd to have
entred into this citty at noone, and to have
travelled all that day, and the next also untill
night, through the streetes hereof, before he
came to the King's pallace. It is situate on
a lake of salt water two hundred leagues in
length, and is by the Spaniards called El
Dorado (or the Guilded Citty) from the
abundance of gold, both in coyne, plate, armour, and
other furniture, which the sayd Deigo Ordas
there saw." Near to another city, " report
telleth us of a christall mountain." Cusco,
in Peru, is " the seat of the ancient kings of
this nation; who, the more to beautifie this
citty, commanded every one of the nobility to
build a pallace here for his continuall
residence. It hath a faire market-place, in the
midst of which two high wayes thwart one
another, which are two thousand miles long,
straight and levell." At Portoveio, there are
graves in which are found human teeth of
three fingers' breadth. The Strait of Magalhaens
is " a place of that nature that which
way soever a man bend his course, he shall
be sure to have the winde against him, * * *
On both sides are the high mountaines
continually covered with snow, from whence
proceede those dangerous counter-windes that
beat on all sides of it: a place certainely
unpleasing to view, and hazardous to passe."
Peter also talks to us of a fig-tree, the north
part of which, looking towards mountains,
produces fruit only in the summer, while the
south part, facing the sea, is fruitful only in
the winter; of a little animal which cannot
go a stone's throw in less than fifteen days;
of " an hearbe, called Sentida or Viva which,
if one touch it, will shut its leaves, and not
open them till the man which did displease
it be gone out of sight " (this is the sensitive
plant); of flying fishes, ( " but," says he, " I
binde you not to believe it " ); and of some
high, craggy, and barren hills—namely, the
Andes—so full of wild beasts and serpents that
a whole army of one of the Peruvian kings
was destroyed by them in passing that way.

Thus we see that Tradition divides the
world with History, and Fable with Fact.
But we must not stay too long in these
fantastic regions, lest our brains be moon-struck.
So we dismiss the magician who has been
showing us these sights, and return to the
realities of the nineteenth century.

A SYRIAN LEGEND.

KOJA, the son of a shipwright of Beyrout,
became the hero of story simply from the
excessive constancy of his attachment to Lisa,
the daughter of a Maronite merchant. No one
knows to what nation Koja belonged, or is
quite sure of the epoch of his existence. But
as mountains in a misty atmosphere seem far
off as soon as you recede a little from them,
so in the East, where history sheds no steady
light on the past, popular personages who
have only just died are often removed to an
indefinite distance back in time. This point,
however, is of no moment. Men who become
famous from the mere display of the affections
are always near neighbours. We feel for
Petrarch, whose house has left no ruins at
Vaucluse, just as if he were living in the next
street. More so, perhaps; because time
flowing over his story, has washed away
everything but the sparkling gold. So is it with
Koja. There were men who hated and
persecuted him in his life; but they are gone,
and all now join in lamenting his long
separation from Lisa.

The meeting of the two lovers was
accidental. One morning, Lisa, who began to find
the women's apartment, to which she had
been confined during her father's absence at
Damascus, somewhat dreary, asked Margota,
her aunt, to take her forth, that she might
wander on the borders of the sea. The good
old lady was well-nigh struck dumb by the
request. " All lhe saints bless thee! " cried
she; " has a Marid (evil spirit) been whispering
in thy ear? Why, here am I, at this
respectable age. I have lived all my life long
at Beyrout, and never once have I desired to
go down to the water's edge." Upon this
Lisa laughed, and told to her aunt the story
of the dove who lived with the tortoise, and
who one day expressed a desire to go and eat
olives on a hill that was almost out of sight.
The tortoise objected, and made a long speech
to show the impropriety of such a step; but
the dove flashed round and round in the
sunlight, and replied, " My friend, you mean to
say that you have no wings." So, off she flew.