When ready to sail, Drake erected, by way of monument and memorial of his having been there and taken possession of the country, a large post, firmly planted, upon which he caused to be nailed a plate of brass engraven with the name of the English Queen, the day and date of his arrival, the voluntary submission of the inhabitants to English sovereignty, and beneath all, his own name. Fastened to the plate was an English sixpence of recent coinage, so placed as to exhibit Her Majesty's likeness. All of which goes to prove that Drake supposed himself to be the discoverer of this region, and was not aware that thirty-six years previously the Spaniards had passed the same Coast and anticipated him. Having found no northern passage to the Atlantic, and making up his mind that if one existed it was too far north to be practical, Drake returned by the route pointed out by Magellan in his circumnavigation of the globe. On July 23d, after many ceremonies of a religious character, and taking an appropriate farewell of the sorrowful natives, he stood out to sea. As his ship lessened in the distance, following the sun over the trackless waste of waters, the Indians ran to the tops of their hills to keep it in view as long as possible, and lighted fires, which indicated, long after they themselves could be distinguished from the vessel, that they were still watchful, and doubtless turning their straining eyes toward the departing strangers. [Illustration: Drake's Cross.] The waves of three centuries have lapped these shores; countless storms have swept over the promontories, and many tempests have grappled with its cliffs since the year when Sir Francis first dropped anchor in the Bay which ultimately bore his name. Time has made few changes in this Ocean inlet, as man has practically shunned it; for excepting a small cabin on the beach, no habitation meets the eye. The schooner which touches there three times a week to load with butter is the only keel that rides its waves, and the aspect of the lofty white cliffs which encircle this Bay of Solitude are unaltered since the time when, attracting the English navigator to their shores, they received, because of their resemblance to his native cliffs of Dover, the appellation New Albion. It seems unjust and absurd that on the shores of this Bay, which was the theater of Drake's actions in our State, no post, stone or monument is placed whereon to commemorate his landing, or inform the traveler of the history enacted there; while in Golden Gate Park on a mound which his eyes never saw, on soil which his feet never trod, a lofty granite cross rears its solid strength in his commemoration; an illustration of the inconsistencies of man. [Illustration: A Rugged Coast Line.] [Illustration: Point Reyes.]