n made to a feminine fondness for appearance, the statue has
remained patiently on its pedestal ever since. One of the treasures
of the Church of Mercy, Havana, is a painting of the cross, with a
woman seated on one arm of it, holding a child. Spanish soldiers and
proud-looking Indians are gathered about the emblem. The origin of the
picture is involved in doubt, but it was installed in recognition of an
appearance vouchsafed by the Virgin to Columbus at Cerro de la Vega,
in presence of the Indians. The natives, alarmed at this vision in
the air, and associating it--justly, as it fell out--with calamity,
discharged their arrows at it, and were still more frightened when
their darts passed through the apparition without causing a flow of
blood. This onslaught put the Spaniards into an instant rage, and,
encouraged by the Virgin's smiles, they fell upon the heathen with
sword and musketoon and stamped them out of existence.

Some of these supernatural appearances had so occult a purpose that it
has never been fathomed. At Daiquiri, for example, where the American
troops landed in the late war, a native reported to the wondering
community that while walking through the wood he met a tall, shaggy
stranger, who looked as though he might have been one of the fisherman
disciples, and who pointed to the earth with an imperious gesture. So
soon as the Cuban had looked down the tall man melted into air. On
the ground was the print of the face of Christ. A stone was placed
on the spot to mark the miracle.

When the fiery Ojeda set out on his several voyages of discovery and
adventure,--and no man ever had more excitement and tribulation,--he
carried in his knapsack a small painting of the Virgin, the work
of a Fleming of some artistic consequence. During his halts in
the jungle it was his custom to affix this picture to a tree, say
his prayers before it, receive spiritual assurance of protection,
then, grasping sword and buckler, to undertake the slaughter of the
natives with fresh alacrity and cheer. So confident was he in his
heavenly guard that he exposed himself recklessly in fight, and the
Indians were fain to believe him deathless, until one of their arrows
pierced his leg. If this injured his confidence it did not stint
his courage. He ordered his surgeon to burn the leg with hot irons,
threatening to hang him if he refused, for he fancied that the arrow
was poisoned. When wrecked on the south coast of Cuba with seventy
v