d fortifications were
reluctantly built upon it by the Mayor and Corporation, the Council
'mervelinge of their unwillingnesse to proceede in the fortefynge of St
Michaell's Chapele to be made a Bulwarke.'

Plymouth is not rich in old buildings. The Citadel was rebuilt in the
reign of Charles II, and the new Guildhall is little over thirty years
old. St Andrew's, a large Perpendicular building with a fine tower, is
the only old church, but it stands on the site of a much older one--the
church of the Augustinians of Plympton Priory.

Really, neither Stonehouse nor Devonport has any history. In the reign
of Henry III, Stonehouse consisted of the dwelling of Joel de
Stonehouse, who at that time owned the manor, and it is only
comparatively lately, since it has been transformed into a huge naval
storehouse, and the great Marine Barracks have been built, that it has
become of importance.

Devonport, looking over the broad glittering waters of Hamoaze, was till
the year 1824 known only as Dock, or Plymouth Dock. Charles II planned a
dockyard here, but the work of making it was not begun until the reign
of William and Mary.

The very early history of Plymouth is not specially interesting to
anyone who cares over-much for sober fact; but looking at it in the
generous spirit of the ancient chroniclers, and not stickling over
probabilities, the story of the first great event in Plymouth is almost
as fine as the traditions of Totnes itself. Giants, we all know,
flourished in Cornwall, and soon after the arrival of the Trojans--about
1200 B.C.--they made a furious onslaught upon the invaders, but were
defeated after a desperate battle. The crowning struggle between
Goemagot (the name afterwards turned into Gogmagog), chief of the
giants, and Corinaeus the Trojan, took place in Plymouth Hoe, as
Drayton's vigorous lines declare:

'Upon that loftie place at Plimmouth called the Hoe,
Those mightie Wrastlers met, with many an irefull looke
Who threatned, as the one hold of the other tooke:
But, grappled, glowing fire shines in their sparkling eyes.
And whilst at length of arme one from the other lyes,
Their lusty sinewes swell like cables, as they strive:
Their feet such trampling make, as though they forc't to drive
A thunder out of earth; which staggered with the weight:
Thus, either sat most force urg'd to the greatest height.'

A memorial of this terrific conflict, 'the portraiture of two m