ominance now. All tradition states that the struggle
between Corineus and the giant took place on Plymouth Hoe, on a spot
now partly covered by the Citadel. Plymouthians so devoutly cherished
the legend that they preserved the figures of the two wrestlers, cut
in the turf after the manner of the famous White Horses; but either a
greater scepticism or another need for the site has caused the figures
to vanish long since. As Corineus, by the same tradition, became first
Duke of Cornwall, it was supposed that he bestowed his name on the
Duchy; but the "Corn" is not so easily identified as this, and to get
at the true origin we should have to understand more definitely the
derivation of the tribal name _Cornavii_. But it does seem that the
Plymouth Hamoaze can claim to be the Hamo's Port which Geoffrey of
Monmouth wrongly identified with Southampton; and this proves that the
fine estuary, where the pulse of national life now beats so strongly,
was a haunt of navigators, defenders and invaders, in days before
Britain's story had begun to be written. Britain also can never forget
the part that Plymouth played in repulsing the Great Armada. It may or
may not have been true that Drake was playing bowls on the Hoe when
the Spanish ships were sighted; it may not be true that he said,
"There's time to play the game out and to thrash the Spaniards
afterwards." We can cherish this doubtful tradition or not, as we
happen to be credulous or sceptical; but in any case that was the
genuine spirit of the West Country in those days of stress, and that
was the spirit by which the British Empire was moulded. It was a
spirit born of rough seas and unruly winds, the confidence that sprang
from successful struggle with peril and difficulty, the pluck that
confesses nothing to be impossible. It was a spirit that loved sport,
yet never shrank from war.

But the glorious memories that linger on Plymouth Hoe, perhaps the
finest promenade in the kingdom, must not hinder us from passing over
to the Cornwall coasts that are luring us with all their varied and
exquisite beauty. We cannot stay to recall the sailing of the
_Mayflower_ from Plymouth Barbican, nor the wonderful siege endured by
the town during the great Civil War--the fiercest siege of all that
sad conflict, successfully sustained by the Plymouthians against the
forces that the King's generals, backed by loyal Cornwall, could bring
against them. The tales and associations that belong to t