ve way
before a breed of sea-rovers, who, after many generations of attachment
to the soil, had returned to their ancient element. With the destruction
of her Armada Spain's colossal dream of colonial empire passed away.
Against the new power Holland strove in vain, and when France
acknowledged the superiority of the Briton upon the sea, she at the same
time relinquished her designs upon the world. Hampered by her feeble
navy, her contest for supremacy upon the land was her last effort and
with the passing of Napoleon she retired within herself to struggle with
herself as best she might. For fifty years England held undisputed sway
upon the sea, controlled markets, and domineered trade, laying, during
that period, the foundations of her empire. Since then other naval
powers have arisen, their attitudes bearing significantly upon the
future; for they have learned that the mastery of the world belongs to
the masters of the sea.

That many of the phases of this world shrinkage are pathetic, goes
without question. There is much to condemn in the rise of the economic
over the imaginative spirit, much for which the energetic Philistine can
never atone. Perhaps the deepest pathos of all may be found in the
spectacle of John Ruskin weeping at the profanation of the world by the
vandalism of the age. Steam launches violate the sanctity of the
Venetian canals; where Xerxes bridged the Hellespont ply the filthy
funnels of our modern shipping; electric cars run in the shadow of the
pyramids; and it was only the other day that Lord Kitchener was in a
railroad wreck near the site of ancient Luxor. But there is always the
other side. If the economic man has defiled temples and despoiled
nature, he has also preserved. He has policed the world and parked it,
reduced the dangers of life and limb, made the tenure of existence less
precarious, and rendered a general relapse of society impossible. There
can never again be an intellectual holocaust, such as the burning of the
Alexandrian library. Civilizations may wax and wane, but the totality of
knowledge cannot decrease. With the possible exception of a few trade
secrets, arts and sciences may be discarded, but they can never be lost.
And these things must remain true until the end of man's time upon the
earth.

Up to yesterday communication for any distance beyond the sound of the
human voice or the sight of the human eye was bound up with locomotion.
A letter presupposed