What satisfaction, what decorative pleasure is gained in that achievement in ungainly ostentation, the Armada Memorial? Is that rushing termagant with flying petticoats indeed Britannia? and that hairy poodle beside her, is that really the British Lion? The British Lion, _pour rire_, rather: “The British Lion is a noble scion,” the embodiment of the music halls. This memorial, I suppose, is set up in praiseworthy commemoration of the might of the Mailed Hand; but for all her trident and her sword, this valorous virago, this Britannia, on her pillar, is a creature of finger-nails, scratches, and subsequent hysteria. Hard by is Drake, modelled in bronze by an alien, for the satisfaction of British patriotism. This work of the ingenious Boehm is not without dignity, viewed from carefully chosen standpoints; but from most points of the compass he is something too cock-a-hoop, he wears too much the air of the sparrow on a ting for our satisfaction. It is well, though, that he should be here in bronze for the healthful admiration and emulation of Englishmen. If any place there be within these sea-girt isles that can make your pulses thrill, ’tis Plymouth. The majesty of England is no mere phrase to them that have seen the clanging dockyards, the arsenals, the floating strongholds, the encircling chain of forts that render the three towns of Plymouth, Devonport, and Stonehouse a microcosm of the empire’s strength. Military--the red coats, the tunics black and green of rifle regiments, the sound of the bugle, instant and commanding, are everywhere. Naval--no more slacks-hitching, timber-shivering towns exist than these. [Illustration: DRAKE’S STATUE.] We conceived the idea of making Saltash our headquarters for a few days, and of making daily excursions from it to explore Plymouth. So, when we had made this preliminary survey, we reclaimed our knapsacks and made our way through Plymouth and Stonehouse, on top of a jingling tramcar, to North Corner, Devonport, whence small steam-launches ply every hour for Saltash. The estuary of the Tamar runs here, deep and broad, dividing the counties of Devon and Cornwall. From here to Saltash (three miles) it is known as the Hamoaze.