[Sidenote: Note 3.] Silk was little known in England at the beginning of Elizabeth's reign, but it came into great request a few years later. In 1617 Lord Carew declares that there is "a madness for silk instead of cloth." This rage for silk led to the establishment of silk manufacturing in England; throwsters, dyers, and weavers were brought to England from abroad and settled in Spitalfields, "the cheap end of its metropolis," and in Moorfields. It seemed more than ever important to produce silk in the king's dominions, in order to supply these manufacturers with material without importation from alien lands. Accordingly, a new effort was made in 1620 to secure raw silk from Virginia. The Earl of Southampton, ever eager to promote the Virginia colony, "writt into Italy, France, and Spayne" for silkworm "seed"; the king gave some from his own stock, and the expert who had charge of the king's worms was sent over to look after the business. A French book on the subject was translated to instruct the colonists. The first Virginia Assembly in 1619 had passed a law to promote the raising of the mulberry. To save expense, the colonists at this time, or later, planted the trees in hedgerows and mowed them with a scythe. In 1621 orders were sent from England that none but members of the Council and the heads of hundreds should wear silk, unless they had made it themselves. The prohibition shows how general was the craze for silk clothing. The climate of Virginia proved genial enough, but the massacre of 1622, the bitter Indian conflicts that ensued in 1623, and the epidemic of the same year, following one another swiftly, were enough to annihilate a hundred feeble projects. The real doom of silk-raising, however, came from the fact that the culture of tobacco in virgin soil was incalculably more profitable and vastly less troublesome to pioneers than hatching silkworms' eggs in one's pocket or bosom, or sleeping with them in a small box under one's bolster and covering them in the warm bed on rising. The project was blighted in the bud by adverse economic conditions--a killing frost more deadly to such enterprises than an ungenial climate. But a lesson in economic principles is one of the hardest for men to learn. Long after the colony had become prosperous, English projectors and Virginia experimenters tried again and again to supplant tobacco with silk. If we may credit the report, Virginia furnished a coronation robe of silk for Charles I, and Charles II certainly wore silk from worms hatched and fed in his Virginia dominions. One Esquire Digges brought Armenians to Virginia to attend his worms. But in the Reformed Virginia Silkworm, by Hartlib, the friend of Milton, it is announced that a young lady had discovered that silkworms would care for themselves on the trees, "to the instant wonderful enrichment of all the planters there, requiring neither cost, labour, or hindrance in any of their other employments." It is also suggested on the eager