We have asserted that England holds all the Southern points in which the continents of the world terminate.  Examine this statement, and see how much it means.  Take your map of the world, and you will find that the land-surface of the globe culminates at the south in five points, no more,—­America at Cape Horn,[5] Africa at the Cape of Good Hope, Asia in Ceylon and the Malayan peninsula, and Australia in the island of Tasmania.  Is it not surprising that these wedges which cut into the steady flowing stream of commerce, these choice points of mercantile and naval advantage, are all in the hands of one single power?  Can it be of chance?  Or rather, is it not the result of a well-ordered purpose, which, waiting its time, seizing every favorable opportunity, has finally achieved success?

[Footnote 5:  It is not absolutely true that England holds Cape Horn; for the region is unfit for the residence of civilized man.  And were it not so, the perpetual storms leave no secure anchorage.  But Great Britain does hold the nearest habitable land, the Falkland Islands,—­and notwithstanding the rudeness of the climate, Stanley, the principal settlement, does a considerable business in refitting and repairing ships bound round the Cape.]

The topic is not exhausted, but the facts already adduced prove clearly enough that somewhere in the English government there has been sagacity to plant colonies, not only at convenient distances, but also in such commanding positions that they do their part to confirm and perpetuate her maritime supremacy.  Can any one fail to see how immeasurably this system increases naval force?  Of course such strongholds, wherever placed, would be of no use to a power which had not ships.  They could not be held by such a power.  But, given a fleet as powerful as ever rode the waves, given seamen gallant and skilful as ever furled a sail or guided the helm, and these depots and havens, scattered, but not blindly, over the earth, quadruple the efficiency of the power which they could not create.

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The number of the English colonies, their happy distribution, and, above all, their commanding position, furnish subjects of exceeding interest.  But the patience with which England has waited, the skill with which she has seized the proper moment for success, and especially the fixed determination with which she has held her prizes, are topics of equal or greater interest.

The history of the Rock of Gibraltar, one of the earliest of these prizes, supplies a good illustration.  This had many owners before it came under British rule.  But none of them seemed to know its true value.  All held it with a loose grasp.  Its surprise and capture by the sailors from Admiral Rooke’s fleet, creditable as it was to its captors, who swarmed up the steep cliffs as they would have swarmed up the shrouds and yards of their own frigates, leaping