their duties. Whatever may happen, and however the weather may turn out, the light should burn steadily through the night, and through every night of the year. Here is the first clause of their orders: "You will light the lamps every evening at sunset, and you will keep them clear and unsullied until day-light." To them this is the law and the prophets. In fact the light is doing its duty, and is as constant as a star of heaven. On this condition, but on this alone, the men are well paid, well fed, and well dressed: they have a pension when old, and which in certain cases may be continued to their widows: besides which a life insurance places their family above want. They are sup plied with books and medicines, and certain principles of morality are expected from them, with which they imbue their wives and children; but above everything they must attend to the light. They have also a flag placed in a well-selected part, and it is the last thing they are to care for in the event of any catastrophe.

It is two or three years since a lighthouse was built on a point called the Double Stanners, between Lytham and Blackpool, for some time threatened by ruin from the invasion of the sea, which is gradually gaining on this part of the coast. In vain the workmen endeavoured to preserve the building by additional pillars round its base, and fortifying where they could against the effects of the sea. The lightkeepers observed one night the tower vibrated more than usual. The next morning they found that a portion of the façade had disappeared, and that nearly the whole foundation of the tower was undermined by the sea. They removed their furniture, but forgot the apparatus for lighting their lamps. At nightfall they were surrounded by the tide, and the wind was so strong that it was feared their craft would not hold on by her anchors till day-light. But the light never burnt clearer that it did on that night. In the morning a heavy squall swept away the tower, but the light-keepers came off with the honours of war: the light had burnt to the last moment.

I was desirous of passing a night at the Eddystone, but unfortunately for me this is a privilege granted to no one. It is not that strangers interfere with the duty of light-keepers, or by their walk get in the way of the light. Besides, what is there to be seen? The apparitions of vessels gliding by the tower, the forms of men looking anxiously from the tower, at one moment lighted up, and at the next disappearing in the darkness. So I left the tower some time before sunset and landed at Plymouth, not without many a look at the Eddystone on my way as it receded in the distance. This herculean work has already stood above sixty years. Smeaton's work was followed by gigantic productions in the line which he had commenced. On the Scotch coast, at twelve miles from the islands, is a rock which had always been an object of terror to seamen. The monks of Aberbrothwick who dwelt near it, had marked it by a beacon carrying a large bell, which was kept ringing by the motion occasioned by the waves, especially in bad weather. This was first called the Inch Cape Reef, but obtained afterwards the name of the Bell Rock. This system of placing a bell on a rock is but partially successful, for wreck

on wreck followed, and among them a seventy-four gun-ship of the Royal Navy, the York, with all her crew were lost on it. The commissioners of Northern Lights determined at length to construct a lighthouse on the same principle as the Eddystone, and appointed an engineer, Robert Stevenson, to direct the works.

Stevenson landed on the rock on the 17th of August, 1807; but as it is covered with twelve feet of water by the tide, his men were only able to work but a very few hours between ebb and flood. One day the engineer and thirty-two masons were accidentally exposed to the danger of being drowned, by the place getting suddenly flooded. The vessel attending them broke from her cable, and was drifted away from them, and another expected did not arrive. Robert Stevenson was desirous of addressing his terrified men on their forlorn condition, but could not, for his mouth was dry, and his tongue stuck to the roof of it. When washing it with a little salt water, on turning round, he had the happiness of seeing a boat approaching to their relief. The tower, in October, 1810, spread at its base, and tapering to its summit like the trunk of a tree. The landing on the rock is on an iron jetty, from which a bronze staircase leads to the door raised at a considerable height from the base. The light-keepers assert that the sea sometimes rises to the height of thirty feet above the tower. It has six rooms and two large bells which are rung in foggy weather. In the sitting-room, to which the keepers retire in the day time, is a bust of Robert Stevenson,

The four light-keepers of the Bell Rock Tower are married men with families. A melancholy time for them when thus separated in bad weather during the greater part of the year. Byron says that absence strengthens the affections of the heart. I have seen a young damsel, newly married to a light-keeper, find her way over dangerous rocks of the sbore every evening to see the light of his tower burning at a distance, which was standing surrounded by the sea. Having done this she returned with a lighter heart to her home. All was right; the light was burning, and she wished him a good night.

Another ocean light is the Skerryvore, one of the boldest of works of this kind. This great rock, as the name implies, is the middle one of a group between the islands of the west coast of Scotland and the north of Ireland. Ordinary tides made the upper part of the reef just awash with the surface, occasioning a frightful sea. Still it was on this barbarous rock that Alan Stevenson, the son of Robert, in 1838, undertook to erect a lighthouse. The first of the works was washed away by the sea on the 3rd of September, 1838. But a new barrack was constructed, in which the architect and his thirty workmen were housed at forty feet above the rock, full often covered by furious seas. How many days and nights they worked in this trying manner! The sea would often not allow them to descend to the reef from their aerial prison, while they could only fix their eyes on the shore from whence they obtained their supplies, wishing for a change of weather that would let them go on with their work. So high was their dwelling place that more than once in the night they were alarmed for their

safety by the sea washing up and falling on its roof. On these occasions the house would tremble on its pillars, the water would find its way into the door and windows and twice the men rushed from their beds fearing it was their last. However, on the 21st July, 1842, Alan Stevenson had succeeded in building a granite tower 137 feet high on the rock, and in February 1844, a light for the first time was seen on the dangerous group of the Skerryvores. This building is a block of masonry six times larger than the Eddystone. The construction of these lighthouses in such dangerous positions is the most glorious triumph of British architecture. The age of chivalry is not extinct. Surely the heroes of these days are engineers and artists, who, with a determination far above military courage wage war with the elements, that people of different countries may frequent each other's shores and extend the benefits of navigation and commerce. Old Ocean himself must admire these wonderful works, and were he personified might exclaim with the poet

"Great must I call them, for they conquered me.'

ne."

A Committee of Inquiry into lighthouses in 1861, published a voluminous report on those of Great Britain. The members of it certainly accomplished their task most conscientiously. They not only made the tour of their own coast, but, enriched their work with information from France and Spain. In their way (by letter) they have examined 1,184 witnesses, and obtained information from thirteen foreign countries. The lighting apparatus naturally claimed much of their attention. All kinds of modes of lighting have been employed in Great Britain, and the last coal fire, that of St. Bee's lighthouse was not extinguished till 1822. Oil is at present the only source of light, but what a difference there is in the manner of using it. There are two kinds of lights, fixed and revolving, appearing, disappearing and reappearing to the mariner like an intermitting star. Even the colours vary and assume all kinds that are found in the prism, by red, green, white and blue. There is a considerable difference also in the arrangement of the lamps.

There are two systems of lighting, called catoptric and dioptric, the former being by reflectors and the latter by lenses of glass. The former is the most ancient, but has been somewhat set aside of late. The apparatus in lighthouses at present, mostly consists of a central focus formed by an enormous crystal lens which sometimes costs as much as a hundred guineas. Gas, and also the electric light have been tried with more or less success. The fact is, that in England, as in other countries, lighting the sea is in a state of transition. The Trinity House has secured the services of a savant, Faraday, to guide them in the path of improvement.

Another circumstance struck the members of the commission, which was the want of unity of system. Of the 357 lighthouses of the United Kingdom, 197 belong to the three Boards of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and 160 to local authorities. Who could expect perfect harmony in such a division of powers. In France things are

different. The lighthouses are lighted and the lights are extinguished at a time of day determined by a central organization. The volume of fame and the quantity of oil to be consumed is managed with military precision. Here the governing power is in one authority. This authority seems to have attracted the attention of the British Commission, and they would have liked a similar one on the other side of the channel. Their views seem hitherto, however, to have met with but little approval among a people too jealous of their rights to give up the management of their own affairs. Liberty, however, is deceived sometimes-she is the daughter of humanity-she can always repair her mistakes, but once lost who shall restore her. The English have a right to be proud of what they have done from generation to generation in the lighting of their coasts. Without any assistance from their government they have built most magnificent lighthouses, veritable temples to the sea, in the most difficult places, which cost from 75,000 to 2,000,000 of francs. Every day of the year, at sunset, they produce by unseen hands, 404 splendid lights ashore and afloat, which apprise mariners of the limits of the sea, and which collect the sails arrived from the four quarters of the globe under the radiant symbol of peace and the brotherhood of nations.

ON THE CAUSE OF WRECKS ON THE BLACKWATER AND ARKLOW BANKS of Vessels bound from Liverpool to the Southward, and How they may be avoided.

Sir, I need make no apology to you for this short letter. I address you as the Editor of the standard work on nautical affairs, as a man of humanity, who, in common with every one, must deplore the loss of valuable lives and immense wealth; and as a seaman who knows practically what we only know theoretically.

The principle cause of shipwreck in St. George's Channel arises from the want of knowledge of the tides, particularly of that part where they mostly occur. In order to show this I cannot do better than give an extract from a small book published by me, and kindly edited by the late Captain Beechey, (who was employed by the Admiralty for some years in examining the tides and soundings of St. George's Channel). It was published in 1851; and reprinted several times since. In it he says:

"In the Irish Channel experiments have shown that notwithstanding the variety of times of high water throughout the Channel, the turn of the stream over all that which may be called the fair navigable portion of the Channel, is nearly simultaneous; that the northern and southern streams in both Channels [St. George's and English] commence and end in both Channels, in all parts, (practically speaking,) at nearly the same time, and that time happens to correspond nearly

with the time of high and low water on the shore at the entrance of Liverpool, and of Morecambe Bay, a spot remarkable as being the point where the opposite tides coming round the extremities of Ireland, terminate, so that it is only necessary to know the time of high water at the above mentioned places to determine the hour when the stream of either tide will commence or terminate in any part of the Channel."

Now, at the entrance of St. George's Channel, about Tuskar on the Irish side, and St. David's Head on the Welsh coast, the charts show high water full and change about six o'clock, while at Liverpool it is high water at full and change at eleven o'clock, so that it is clear that while at the sides of the Channel the water is ebbing, in midchannel it is flowing for five hours and (by the same authority) at the rate of from three to four knots per hour. A shipmaster not knowing this, and thinking that the stream in midchannel is the same as at the sides, or, not thinking at all, is meeting a contrary stream striking him on the port bow, causing a leeway carrying him out of his course to the northward and westward, or, in other words on the Blackwater bank. The captain who has steered a true straight course from Holyhead to Tuskar, immediately there is the compass, (the most fertile excuse for the loss of all ships) and as the compass is generally lost or spoilt with the ship there is no way of denying it. In fair weather the leeway may be corrected by the light, but in foggy weather the light is of no use. What are the light ships for? My own experience, living on the sea shore, within a mile of one of the most powerful lighthouses in the kingdom, taught me that in a fog the lighthouse and a penny dip are nearly of equal value for light. The bell is only heard a short distance off, say a mile or very little more; shewing from my own experience how little benefit is conferred by either sight or sound.

There remains then, only one means of ascertaining the safety of the ship, and that is SOUNDING. The shipmaster says, I cannot use the common lead. I have to stop the ship's way, which in a fog and narrow sea is dangerous. So it is. Then use a machine, Massey's has been long in use, and found to be correct. But it requires handling almost as carefully as a baby. The machinery of it is delicate and is exposed outside of the machine, and it requires the greatest care in throwing it overboard, or drawing it in. If one of the flies receives any damage by striking the ship's side, or a rocky bottom, the correctness of the machine is gone!

Fortunately another means for quick sounding as been lately found* called the "Liverpool Sounding Machine;" it is extremely simple; the weight is perforated, admitting the water to pass through it, and the machinery is placed inside of the weight, so that the works cannot be injured by any external violence, either by striking against the ship's side, or from anything floating in the water, or even a rocky bottom. It may be thrown overboard without any care and drawn

* By Walker and Son, Opticians of Liverpool. NO. 3.-VOL. XXXV.

X