ieved the mysterious child to be of lofty
origin. The boy grew up full of beauty, grace, and agility, the leader of
all his companions in every hardy sport. Through the country round there
were none who could throw the javelin, break a lance, or ride at the ring
like little Juan Quixada. In taming unmanageable horses he was celebrated
for his audacity and skill. These accomplishments, however, were likely
to prove of but slender advantage in the ecclesiastical profession, to
which he had been destined by his Imperial father. The death of Charles
occurred before clerical studies had been commenced, and Philip, to whom
the secret had been confided at the close of the Emperor's life,
prolonged the delay thus interposed. Juan had already reached his
fourteenth year, when one day his supposed father Quixada invited him to
ride towards Valladolid to see the royal hunt. Two horses stood at the
door--a splendidly caparisoned charger and a common hackney. The boy
naturally mounted the humbler steed, and they set forth for the mountains
of Toro, but on hearing the bugles of the approaching huntsmen, Quixada
suddenly halted, and bade his youthful companion exchange horses with
himself. When this had been done, he seized the hand of the wondering boy
and kissing it respectfully, exclaimed, "Your Highness will be informed
as to the meaning of my conduct by his Majesty, who is even now
approaching." They had proceeded but a short distance before they
encountered the royal hunting party, when both Quixada and young Juan
dismounted, and bent the knee to their monarch. Philip, commanding the
boy to rise, asked him if he knew his father's name. Juan replied, with a
sigh, that he had at that moment lost the only father whom he had known,
for Quixada had just disowned him. "You have the same father as myself,"
cried the King; "the Emperor Charles was the august parent of us both."
Then tenderly embracing him, he commanded him to remount his horse, and
all returned together to Valladolid, Philip observing with a
sentimentality that seems highly apocryphal, that he had never brought
home such precious game from any hunt before.

This theatrical recognition of imperial descent was one among the many
romantic incidents of Don John's picturesque career, for his life was
never destined to know the commonplace. He now commenced his education,
in company with his two nephews, the Duchess Margaret's son, and Don
Carlos, Prince-royal of Spain. They w