Although the immediate connection between the variation of these figures and those of licensed houses cannot be discovered, there is a general consensus of evidence that diminution of the facilities for intoxication would sweep away a large proportion of this crime.

While reflecting upon this remarkable and unrivalled expansion of commerce, the question arises: What causes, beyond the insular necessities, and the natural aptitudes of the people, have chiefly promoted it? The answer seems to be that there were two chief causes. First, in 1816, by legislative enactment an end was put to those difficulties and disasters arising from an unstable currency and standard of value, liable to frequent and violent debasement, which through many centuries had hampered the growth of commerce. The adoption by Great Britain of mono-metallism, on a gold basis, gave the world one stable centre for its financial transactions, and England speedily became the banking exchange of all nations. Second, fifty years since, when steam and machinery were multiplying production, and affording facilities for distribution, Great Britain adopted the principle of free trade, thereby inviting all nations to send their produce to her, and England speedily became the commercial exchange of the world. It is not too much to say, that the foundations of this unprecedented volume of commerce have for their chief corner stones, mono-metallism and free trade.

JOSEPH ACKLAND.

P.S.-Unforeseen and unavoidable circumstances have delayed the publication of this article. In the meantime, Liverpool and Plymouth have both extended their boundaries, so that their figures now vary from those given in the second part of the article; this, however, does not vitiate the comparisons at the dates given.—J. A.

HOW THE SCEPTRE OF THE SEA

PASSED TO ENGLAND

THE wildest summer in the memory of man was that of 1588; but when the morning mists lifted from the sea on Friday, the 29th of July (N.S.), a fairer sight than that presented some leagues off the Cornish coast sure never greeted mortal eyes. There was a gentle westerly wind, and the blue waves, rough but kindly, all tipped with white foam from the storms of the past days, tossed their sportive heads in the flashing sunlight, and flung to leeward bunches of glittering gems, which died to dulness the moment after they were born. But not on violet water or flying spray alone did the clear Cornish sunlight fall. Gravely and slowly over the waters there came a great round-bowed galleon, refulgent with gilded carvings, and crowded with rainbow pennons. High towered her great forecastle and poop, gallery over gallery, crowned with shining lanterns, till they seemed to mock the highest waves, and bid them do their worst. Stretching as far away to the south and to windward as the eye could reach were long trails of similar vessels, small and large, all piling up their painted sails to join their royal flagship, the stately San Martin, which solemnly led the way to conquer stubborn England for God and King Philip.

By four o'clock in the afternoon the Armada was well together, sailing in a great wedge or crescent, the San Martin being at the apex, with the two horns curving away behind her. Tierra!' sang out the man at the peak of the San Martin, and low down on the horizon the eager eyes of the soldiers saw what looked like a grey cloud, but which they knew was the Lizard, the first point of the land that they had been told was soon to welcome them-all but the wicked Queen and her few heretic councillors. Long before the other vessels of the fleet caught the welcome sight, there came booming to them over the waters the three signal gunshots of the royal flagship, and up to main was run the sacred flag with the embroidered crucifix, Our Lady, and the Magdalen. Every man on the fleet, high and low, to whom the signal came, fell on his knees in thanksgiving that God had brought them through their perils, and that the guerdon was

at last in view. Heavy affliction had fallen upon the Armada hitherto. Over and over again, through two weary years, death, disaster, and tempest, had frustrated it; but at last God had tried them sufficiently, and victory was within their grasp. As they came nearer to the land, sailing eastward now, they saw the curling smoke of distant beacons, which told them that the enemy was on the alert. That same evening, with the wind dead in his teeth, Howard warped his ships out of Plymouth harbour with infinite labour, ready to meet the invader. On the Armada the rank and file had no thought of defeat. Look at the brave show of great ships, the finest naval force that had ever ploughed the sea. Look at the 20,000 harquebusiers and musketeers who crowded the teeming decks, eager to show the pirate Drake and his men that now, at all events, they were more than a match for him. Not so, thought littlehearted Medina Sidonia; not so thought cautious Farnese, with his flat-bottomed boats in Flanders, waiting to carry his army across; not so thought the sailors, for they knew by dire experience what Drake could do, and that the English ships sailed closer to the wind than theirs. But who cared what sailors thought? Sailors were only drudges to carry the nobler soldiers to the place of action. Only let us come alongside and grapple, said the men-at-arms, and all will soon be over, and good King Philip shall have his new domain at his feet. Some of the ships had fallen away on the voyage, but there were still over 120 vessels in the fleet, nearly a half of them fully armed fighting ships, heavier in burden than the English, and looking even much bigger than they were by reason of their piled-up hulls. They had been told that the English would fire low at them between wind and water, and that, as usual, they would try to fight from afar off. The Spaniards were full of contempt for such unchivalrous and undignified fighting. They were too proud to alter their tactics, or even to adopt the finer lines and lower bows of the English vessels. Ignoring all warnings and experience, Philip told his admiral that he must try to gain the wind, and bring the English to close quarters, and gain the victory by God's grace.'

On the evening of Saturday, the 30th of July, through the scud and mist off the Eddystone, the English ships loomed up to leeward. There was no pluck or dash in Medina Sidonia, and his orders were so precise to join Farnese without turning to the right or left, or he might now have attacked Howard with advantage, but he lay to during the night awaiting events. There was no waiting for events by Drake or Howard. They made events; they did not await them; and at dawn, to his dismay, Medina Sidonia found that eighty English ships had crept round to windward of him in the night (the wind now blowing north-west), whilst eleven vessels were still to the leeward, off the land. To the surprise of the Spaniards, they came round and, almost in the eye of the wind, sailed round the flank of the Armada

and joined the body of the fleet, firing at the Spaniards as they passed. It was the first taste they had given of their seamanship, and it was prophetic. The Armada was now sailing slowly in an easterly direction up Channel, the English fleet sailing parallel on the north-west of it. As before, the Armada sailed in a half moon, the San Martin leading; the northern horn being commanded by Alfonso de Leyva, and the south, or rear horn, by the finest sailor in Spain, Juan Martinez de Recalde. Howard's pinnace, the little Disdain, first came scudding down the wind to the giant galleons of the Armada, and fired a popgun broadside of defiance as a challenge to the Duke, and almost immediately afterwards, at nine o'clock on that Sunday morning, the English fleet itself bore down upon the Spaniards, who were already cleared for action. When the English were within gunshot of the northern horn or vanguard, they opened a crushing fire into the hulls of de Leyva's ships; then, turning southward, with the wind on their starboard beam, they poured in successive broadsides as they passed. When they reached the southern horn the same tactics were repeated. This was not according to the established rules of the game, and the Spanish rear was thrown into confusion, crowding into the main squadron or inner centre of the crescent, leaving the Admiral Recalde to face the English almost alone, for he did not deign to fly. He was soon surrounded. Drake, Hawkins, and Frobisher, with eight English ships, sailed round him, delivering broadside after broadside, riddling his hull, tattering his rigging, and bringing down his spars in splintering ruin. In vain he sought to close and grapple; in vain his men shouted defiance and insult to the cowards who dared not fight them man to man. Drake must have smiled grimly at the heroics, for he knew where his strength lay and meant to make the most of it. Leyva of the northern squadron, when he had recovered from his astonishment, sought out Lord Admiral Howard's fine ship the Ark Ralegh, and made a determined attempt to grapple with him, but he, too, was surrounded like Recalde, and was treated in the same way. The San Mateo, a great galleon commanded by Don Diego Pimentel, one of the first nobles in Spain, had brought up to the wind and waited for Howard in the hope of being able to board him. But Pimentel, too, soon found out to his dismay that the English guns, mostly heavier and infinitely better served than the Spanish, could riddle him without receiving damage in return.

It was now nearly midday, and Medina Sidonia already began to realise his helplessness. He gave the signal for his fleet to reform, and proceed on its way east, bringing the flagship round to the wind to await his forces. The English made straight for the San Martin, when she lay to, and poured a broadside or two into her, but Howard had done enough for one morning, and suddenly gave the signal to retreat. The English, close hauled, sailed off almost in the

eye

of the wind, leaving the Spaniards wondering how it was done. All I could do,' the Duke wrote, was to go on my way, for they gained the wind and kept it, and their ships are so swift and well handled that they can do as they like with them.'

'We drove them away,' shouted the Spanish soldiers and fine gentlemen, trying to keep their spirits up. They were afraid to close and fight us.' But the sailors, though brave enough, knew better; and their hearts were as heavy as lead. The damage done had been but slight, but the morale of the men on the Armada had received its first crushing blow. The result of this was soon apparent. Don Pedro de Valdés, the admiral of the Andalucian squadron, on board the Nuestra Señora del Rosario, during the afternoon put about to offer aid to Recalde, who was busy repairing his ship, and to learn particulars of his engagement. In doing so, he fouled one of the ships of his own squadron and broke his bowsprit. This brought down his foremast and main topmast and disabled him. The Nuestra Señora del Rosario was one of the best ships of the fleet, with much of the King's treasure on board. That treasure,' as Philip wrote to Medina Sidonia, 'which has been so hard to collect; pray be sparing of it.' Pedro de Valdés was one of those who had chafed most at the timid Duke's inaction at Corunna, and told the King before he sailed that Medina owed him a grudge, as well as Diego Flores, the Duke's adviser. Valdés and others then present said that the fine ship was willingly abandoned by the Duke out of spite; Medina himself declared that he had made many efforts to pass a hawser on board, but that the heavy sea prevented it. In any case the Nuestra Señora del Rosario drifted off to leeward, and fell into the hands of the English with all her men and treasure, whilst the Duke and the Armada sailed on in impotent despair. This disaster, however, did not end the troubles of the day. The San Salvador, Oquendo's vice-flagship of nearly 1,000 tons burden, shortly afterwards met with a worse fate. The powder magazine exploded, destroying the two decks aft, and blowing her great gilded poop into the sea. She, too, carried a great treasure of 60,000 ducats. There was no spite to be satisfied here; and on hearing the report and seeing the flames shoot into the darkness, the Duke brought his ship round and stood by until she was taken in tow. Fifty poor maimed wretches scattered the blackened decks of the San Salvador; blood and severed limbs washed and scattered to leeward as she wallowed from side to side; this, and the hideous stench of burned human flesh, sent the unhurt survivors into a panic. The devilish' English were following close; the ship was a wreck; and when the rescue barges came alongside early the next morning (Monday) all was forgotten but personal safety. The treasure and wounded were abandoned, the ship was left unscuttled. Helter skelter the able-bodied men tumbled into the barges, and left the San Salvador to the English. The stink in the