yard is well stocked to supply him with eggs and fowls; kids and lambs plentiful; woodcock, wild duck, and other game in season; gun, and gunpowder and shot, at hand; his horse, and mule, and donkey, well housed and fed; himself and family in excellent health and prospering; and when he thinks and feels all this, his heart leaps with joy again, and he remem bers with grateful thanksgiving that beneficent Creator and preserver" who maketh me to lie down in green pastures, and leadeth me beside the still waters." (Psalm xxiii. 20.)

"The heaven was black with clouds and wind" (1 Kings xviii. 45), and the peasant's son, who has been to the mountains to gather wood for fuel, seeing these indications, "would hasten his escape from the windy storm and tempest." (Psalm lv. 8.) The accompanying illustration sees him just arrived at his father's door, wearied and cold; and he is shouting lustily to the

inmates to come forth and open the door, and assist him in disburthening the poor horse before the night sets in and the tempest commences. The trees are all leafless, the clouds murky and charged with damp, and the snow lies thick on the mountains; but inside the cottage, humble though its appearance, all things betoken comfort and contentment. The father of the family is seated with his pipe and his infant, patiently waiting for his substantial evening meal; the mother is seated on a low stool close to the fire, breaking pieces of firewood over her knees, to make the pot boil the quicker; her youngest son is looking on in hungry expectation; the cat, urged by a love of warmth and keen appetite, is watching the proceedings with tail erect in air, purring its contentment loudly; the dog rushes barking to the door, whilst the eldest daughter, who is opening it to

go and help her brother, playfully beats away the watchman with a switch. If we could penetrate with our eyes into the darkest corners, we should see all the poultry roosting for the night; as it is, we occasionally have warning of their vicinity when any sudden movement in the room rouses them from their slumbers, and the hens cackle forth their astonishment and discontent. The horse is unloaded, and then carefully rubbed down and his legs washed and dried, and, being supplied with food, is locked up for the night. The fuel is then carried in and thrown in a heap on the floor; the son then goes out and washes his feet and legs, and then he comes in and has a dry by the fire. The door is closed for the night; the supper is served; all eat with relish and appetite, but none so voracious as the son. When he has taken the sharp edge off his hunger, he begins to get communicative; tells how the horse behaved; what neighbours he met, how much fuel he gathered; how many birds and hares he saw ; borrows his father's gun for the morrow, and then goes to bed, not before hinting to his mother that, as he can now earn two piastres a-day (about one penny sterling), it is high time he ought to get a wife; the father and mother think so too, and so does the little sister, who is only thirteen, and is going to be married next month. The louder the wind roars, the more tempestuous the night outside, the more comfortable and happy are the inmates of the humble cottage. They have plenty of warm covering, and they wrap themselves cosily in these; and long before midnight, the dog, and the cat, and the fowls, and the children, and the young man and the maiden, and the peasant and his wife, are all fast asleep, and a glow of warmth diffuses itself from the embers of the wood-fire. The tempest rages outside, but "Blessed be the name of God for ever and ever, for wisdom and might are his, and He changeth the times of the seasons.'

THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.-No. III.

In the December of this year a violent storm drove the Neptune from the moorings, and obliged it to drive into Plymouth; a reward of 50. was offered for the mooring-chains, but, to prevent loss of time, a new set was ordered at Black wall, as, even if the others were found, a spare set was always desirable. The fishermen were accused about this time of cutting away the buoys over the anchor of the Neptune for the sake of stealing the cork for their fishing-nets and crab-pots; and such disasters, with various accidents to the vessels so near the rock, retarded the operations in the spring of 1758, so that it was not until the 2nd of July that the work was again commenced. By the 8th of August the solid part of the building was completed, which brought the work to the entrance door on the height of twelve feet above the rock. When the work had proceeded so far as to allow of a level platform, the satisfaction felt by Mr. Smeaton led him to walk to and fro with more complacency than care, for unguardedly making a false step, and not being able to recover his footing, he fell over the works among the rocks on the left side. The tide had then retreated, so that he ran no risk of being drowned, but in his fall he dislocated the thumb of his left hand. As no medical aid was to be procured he set it himself, and then returned to his duty; but it was more than six months before he recovered the full use of the injured member. By the latter end of September, in spite of the very boisterous weather which had prevailed, the twenty-fourth course, forming the top of the staircase and floor of the first apartment or store-room, was laid, and the work

having been continued till the beginning of October, the arched room of the storehouse was laid, on which Mr. Smeaton proposed to place a temporary light room, and thus the floating light, which had been moored by the Trinity Board for the last two winters for the direction of shipping, might have been dispensed with. But some conflicting interests in relation to the collection or property of the light duties being concerned, this proposition, which was made by the lessees of the light duties to the Trinity Board, was not acceded to, and the work was accordingly brought to a close for the season. The winter of 1758-9 was employed by Mr. Smeaton in London, where he prepared everything for the final work at the Eddystone the ensuing season; and he formed and made out designs for the iron rails of the balcony, the cast iron, the wrought iron, and the copper and plate-glass works for the lantern.

A violent storm occurred on the 9th of March 1759, which it was feared must have injured the unfinished edifice, as it had done great damage to the buildings and shipping at Plymouth; and as soon as it was possible, Mr. Jessop visited the works. He had the satisfaction of reporting to Mr. Smeaton that the work, both solid and hollow, had remained sound and firm, all the mortar having become quite hard, and that, in short, the work was in every part just in the situation in which it was left by the workmen in October.

The commencement of the work for the next and last season took place on the 5th of July. On the 21st of the same month the second floor was finished, and on August 17th the main column of the building was completed, containing in all forty-six courses of stone, and being seventy feet in height.

In form the lighthouse is a round building, gradually decreasing in cir cumference from the base up to a certain height, like the trunk of an oak, from which the architect states that he took the idea of its form. On the 24th the parapet-wall was finished, and this completed the masonry of the lighthouse. By unremitting exertions on the part of both the architect and his workpeople, the balcony rails, the lantern with the cupola and gilt ball, the lightning-conductor, and in short all the remaining parts of the lighthouse, with the stores and necessary furniture, were set in their places by the 16th of October, on which day a light was once more exhibited in that dangerous locality, the Eddystone rocks.

In the former lighthouse the kitchen had been in the upper room, doubtless because the funnel for the smoke would thus be shorter; but the beds for the keepers were now fixed above, and the kitchen, with its fireplace, below, while the copper funnel which now passed through the sleeping apartment prevented the beds and bedding from becoming damp, as they did by the former plan. The whole edifice, however, was much more impervious to moisture than that of Mr. Rudyerd's, as the granite employed had the well-known quality of resisting humidity. In the upper room were fixed three cabin beds, each to hold one man, and having three drawers and two lockers, to hold his separate property. In the kitchen, besides the fireplace and sink, were two settles with lockers, a dresser with drawers, two cupboards, and one platter-case. In the lantern a seat was fixed to encompass it all round except the doorway, and this served alike to sit on, to stand on, to snuff the candles, and also enabled the men to look through the lowest tier of glass panes, at distant objects, without having occasion to go on the outside of the lantern into the balcony. Besides the windows of the lantern, the building had ten others, two in the store-room, and four in each of the other rooms. In fixing the crossbars for these, an accident occurred which had nearly proved fatal to

Mr. Smeaton, just as his arduous task was done, and which we will give in his own words :-"After the boat was gone, and it became so dark that we could not see any longer to continue our occupations, I ordered a large charcoal fire to be made in the upper store-room, in one of the iron pots we had used for melting lead, for the purpose of annealing the blank ends of the bars. Most of the workmen were sitting round the fire, and by way of making ourselves comfortable, and to screen ourselves and the fire from the wind, the windows were shut; and, as well as I remember, the copper cover or hatch, put over the man-hole of the floor of the room where the fire was: the hatch above being left open for the heated vapour to ascend. I remember to have looked into the fire attentively to see that the iron was made hot enough, but not over heated. I also remember I felt my head a very little giddy; but the next thing of which I had any sensation or idea, was finding myself on the floor of the room below, half-drowned with water. It seems that without being further sensible of anything to give me warning, the effluvia of the charcoal so suddenly overcame all sensation that I dropped down upon the floor; and had not the people hauled me down to the room below, where they did not spare for cold water to throw in my face and upon me, I certainly should have expired on the spot."

So valuable a life was thus mercifully spared, and Mr. Smeaton was permitted to have the satisfaction of deriving well-earned gratification in the success of the beautiful monument of skill and industry which he had raised.

Ile slept in it, viewed it from sea and land, and appears to have made every observation that so intelligent and clever a man might be expected to make. From the account he gives of its appearance after a storm, we are led to believe with him, that Mr. Winstanley's description of a similar view is not at all exaggerated. "At intervals of a minute, and perhaps two or three, an overgrown wave would strike the rock and the building conjointly, and fly up in a white column, enwrapping it like a sheet, rising to at least double the height of the house, and totally intercepting it from sight; and this appearance being momentary, both as to its rising and falling, one was enabled to judge of the comparative spaces alternately occupied by the house, and by the column of water in the field of the telescope."

The year 1759 closed with such very stormy weather that the lighthousekeepers had all their stock of hardihood and courage fully put to the test. On the first evening that the light was kindled it blew very hard, and for some nights, both before and after, the sea so constantly washed over the lighthouse that they were obliged to keep the fronts of the windows not only shut, but to stuff the joints with oakum, the better to resist the great press of the water. But upon the whole they declared that they had been warm and dry. When the sea broke up the highest they had experienced a sensible motion, something like what all had observed from the holes in the rock in hard gales of wind. Mr. Smeaton says, "that during a great sea about the rocks he could, by resting steadily against the wall of the lantern, perceive a sensible motion from the action of the sea. This I did not wonder at, having felt a steeple sensibly move by the ringing of bells; but I was quite surprised to find that such heavy seas as now rolled over the adjacent rocks, without touching the building, produced a motion nearly as perceptible. This, however, fully convinced me that the Eddystone rocks have a great degree of elasticity."

The continued recurrence of storms, however, seems to have a little

damped the courage of the light-keepers; for after one of unusual violence, when a boat could reach them, Henry Edwards sent a letter to the manager of the works, telling him that for twelve days the sea ran over the house in such a manner that they had been unable to open either the door of the lantern or any other door. "The house did shake," says the forlorn lightkeeper, "as if a man had been up in a great tree." Being both elderly men, they suffered, in consequence, from rheumatism-at least so we should conclude from their saying, "that being almost frightened out of their lives, the fear seized them in their backs, but rubbing them with oil of turpentine gave them relief." After some time the light-keepers became attached to the locality in spite of its seclusion from the rest of the world, and found it both a healthy and comfortable abode. One of the workmen engaged in its construction volunteered for the situation; and although the pay was but 251. a-year, continual applications were made to the proprietor for the offices, and voluntary vacancies seldom occurred. Mr. Smeaton mentions several men who had served there to his knowledge ten, fifteen, and twenty years. One of these became so much attached to his residence on the rock, that for two summers he gave up his turn for a month's holiday on shore, and wished to have done so on the third, but was over-persuaded to leave the rock. While residing on it he had been a steady, sober man; but he had no sooner reached the shore than he went to an alehouse and remained in a state of intoxication during the whole month. He was in this condition conveyed back to the lighthouse, where, after lingering two or three days, he expired.

At the period when the Eddystone was first lighted, such was the state of the lighting-house apparatus in Great Britain, that a feeble light from tallow-candles was all that illuminated a structure so noble. In 1807, when the property came into the hands of the Trinity House, argandburners, and paraboloidal reflectors of silvered copper were substituted for the chandelier and its candles.

The last stone set in the building was that over the door of the lantern, which has on it the following inscription. On the east side are the words

"24th August, 1759,
Laus Deo;"

and round the upper store-room, upon the course of granite, under the ceiling, are the words

"Except the Lord build the house,

They labour in vain that build it."-Psalm cxxvii.

The year 1762 was ushered in with stormy weather-a tempest of great fury raging in January, which the new erection so well stood that in future no apprehensions of its safety were entertained. This storm caused much loss of life and property. At Plymouth, damage to the amount of 80,000l. occurred in the harbour and Sound; and a friend of Mr. Smeaton's wrote him a letter of congratulation on his building having been spared in the general devastation. The sea is described as coming in with such fury over the barbican wall at Plymouth, "as to sweep away with it the parapet, below the foundation, and five persons then standing upon it." The new Laurmy pier, which had been just built by Government, was also swept away. In the short space of three hundred yards six fine merchantmen were wrecked, and literally beat to pieces. Nine men of war in the Sound were greatly injured, and the sea was so agitated, that the froth is described as "flying clean over the walls of the garrison, and in such quantities, that in one situation a sentinel was compelled to leave his post.' "In the midst of all this horror and confusion," writes the friend of Mr. Smeaton, "I