ly unpaid; we have
therefore sent down a messenger to bring before us all those who remain
in arrear.'

Fortunately, the period of acute alarm had now passed away, and the
train-bands were dismissed, so that the burden of levying contributions
must for a while have been lightened.

CHAPTER IX

The Three Towns

'Upon the British coast what ship yet ever came,
That not of Plymouth hears, where those brave navies lie,
From cannons thund'ring throats that all the world defy?
Which to invasive spoil, when th' English list to draw,
Have check'd Iberia's pride, and held her oft in awe:
Oft furnishing our dames with India's rar'st devices,
And lent us gold and pearl, rich silks and dainty spices.'

DRAYTON: _Poly-olbion_.

'Be patient, I beseech you, I am in a labyrinth, where I find many ways
to proceed, but not one to come forth.' Such is Westcote's plea while
attempting to describe Plymouth, and it may be echoed from the heart by
anyone who is in the same perplexing position. The words so exactly sum
up the difficulty. One is bewildered by the multitude of associations
thronging on every side in a town in which, unlike other West Country
ports, the pulse of life throbs as strongly as it did in the centuries
long gone by. 'The sea-front of Plymouth,' says Mr Norway, 'is the most
interesting spot within the British Empire, if not also the most
beautiful. It is a large claim, but who can deny it?'

No one who has not studied the history of the Three Towns can realize
how keenly Plymouth has been affected by every declaration of war or
peace that this country has known--at latest, since the reign of Edward
I--nor how vividly its victories and disasters have been brought home to
the people. The number of fleets that have returned to this port in
triumph, or sometimes in humiliation, and the succession of ever-famous
expeditions that have sailed from the Sound, must continually have
carried their thoughts across the seas, and prevented petty local
affairs from bounding their horizon. The old chronicles seem to show
that stirring events perpetually followed each other at short
intervals, and when no great expedition was occupying men's minds,
there were usually plenty of adventurous spirits to provide
excitement--privateers, such as those who took service with the Prince
of Conde, and searched the Channel for Roman Catholic ships, and others,
ready for 'semi-piratical ventures.' The