judgment. At any rate, by their bold and resolute deeds they
established British freedom and her supremacy of the seas, and handed
down to us an abiding spirit that has reared the finest seamen and
established our incomparable merchant fleet, the largest and finest in
the world.

There is no shame in wishing the nation to become imbued with the
spirit of these old-time heroes, for the heritage they have bequeathed
to us is divine and lives on. We speak of the great deeds they were
guided to perform, but we rarely stop to think from whence the
inspiration came, until we are touched by a throbbing impulse that
brings us into the presence of the great mystery, at which who would
dare to mock?

It is strange that Hawkins' and Drake's brilliant and tragic careers
should have been brought to an end by the same disease within a short
time of each other and not many miles apart, and that their mother,
the sea, should have claimed them at last in the vicinity of the scene
of their first victorious encounter with their lifelong enemies, the
Spaniards. The death of the two invincibles, who had long struck
terror into the hearts of their foes, was the signal for prolonged
rejoicings in the Spanish Main and the Indies, while the British
squadron, battered and disease-smitten, made its melancholy way
homeward with the news of the tragedy.

For a time the loss of these commanding figures dealt a blow at the
national spirit. There are usually long intervals between Cæsars and
Napoleons. Nations have, in obedience to some law of Nature, to pass
through periods of mediocre rule, and when men of great genius and
dominating qualities come to clear up the mess, they are only