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by Smeaton in 1757, and finished in two years afterwards. Three men are constantly kept at the station. It is one hundred feet high, and twenty-six in diameter. Provisions at Plymouth are very reasonable and of excellent quality. The postal arrangements are-Letters delivered, 9 55 a.m.; box closes for London, 3 15 p.m. A day mail has been lately added.

We extract the following interesting account of the wonders of Plymouth and its neighbourhood from the pages of the Christian Witness:

If it is the first time you have been in those parts, you are literally overwhelmed by the grandeur of the scene. A party is formed, and about ten o'clock in the morning you find yourself on the side of the Cremill Passage, which you speedily cross, and enter the grounds of Lord Mount Edgecumbe, and proceeding by the left-hand road, you advance with an easy ascent in the midst of a fine grove, till it rises more rapidly through a wood of a wilder and more rugged character, looking down a steep declivity on the left into a beautiful valley, and on reaching the summit of the hill, suddenly breaks out on the prospect at the White Seat. From this commanding spot the view is most extensive, and the whole circumjacent country is expanded at your feet. Hence you completely and distinctly overlook the Hamoaze, and the whole course of the river Tamar as high as the town of Saltash; the ships in the harbour; the dockyard and town of Devonport; the fortifications and government house; the church and village of Stoke; the Military Hospital; Stonehouse, with the Naval Hospital and Marine Barracks; the citadel and churches of Plymouth; Saltram, the seat of the Earl of Morley; Catwater, with its shipping, enclosed by

Mount Batten; St. Nicholas' Island, the Sound and Staddon Heights beyond it;-the whole view is bounded by a range of lofty hills, among which the round top of Hingston (or Hengist) Down, the peaked head of Brent Tor, and the irregular summits of Dartmoor, are the most elevated and conspicuous. At this place the gravel road ceases, and you enter on a grass drive, which is carried round the whole summit of the hill, and conducts straight forward to Redding Point, whence is discovered a prospect of a totally different description. An unbounded expanse of open sea here bursts upon the sight, confined only by Staddon Heights and the Mew-stone on the left, and on the right by Penlee Point under which lies Cawsand Bay, with the little town from whence it takes its name. The Breakwater, constructed for the security of ships anchoring in the Sound, appears immediately in front, and in clear weather the Eddystone Lighthouse is visible, at a great distance in the offing.

This wonderful structure is built on one of a large cluster of rocks stretching across the Channel in a north and south direction, to the length of about 100 fathoms, but lying in a sloping manner towards the south-west quarter; the surface of the rock slopes from east to west, about eleven feet in twentyfour, and is so exposed to the heavy swells from the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic Ocean, that the waves beat against it with incredible fury. The particular form and position of these rocks is a circumstance that tends greatly to augment the force and height of the sea, and previously to the erection of the lighthouse many fatal accidents happened from ships runnng upon them. The building is certainly one of the most wonderful productions of art, and at the same time the most important object to the port of Plymouth; for without it

the entrance to the harbour would be extremely dangerous. It is not, indeed, to ships resorting to this port only that the Eddystone Lighthouse is beneficial, but to vessels of all nations going up the Channel, when they approach the English coast. The first building was reared in the year 1696, when, notwithstanding the insuperable difficulties that seemed to attend the erection of an edifice on a rock so situated, Mr. Henry Winstanley, of Littlebury, in Essex, succeeded in accomplishing the mighty project. The fabric, however, was so fantastically constructed, that it bore no unapt resemblance to a Chinese pagoda, and it was a common saying that "in hard weather it was very possible for a six-oared boat to be lifted on a billow and driven through the open gallery of the lighthouse." The general opinion was that the structure would be one day overset by the weight of the sea, but Mr. Winstanley was so firmly convinced of its stability, that he was frequently heard to observe "he was so well assured of the strength of his building, that he only wished to be there in the greatest storm that ever blew, that he might have an opportunity of witnessing what effect it would have upon the lighthouse." This desire was fatally gratified. In November, 1703, Mr. Winstanley went out to the rocks, to superintend some repairs of the building, and that very night a fearful tempest arose, which so increased the next day that the lighthouse, with its inmates, was swept into the bosom of the foaming deep.

The next lighthouse was erected by Mr. John Rudyerd, a silk mercer of Ludgate-hill, London, and was constructed of stone and timber. The principal aim of Mr. Rudyerd appears to have been use and simplicity, and, in furtherance of this (design, all useless ornaments were laid aside. The building formed the frustrum of a cone, entirely free from any pro

jection which might endanger its security. It was commenced in 1706, and completed in 1709, sustaining the repeated attacks of the sea, in all its fury, for upwards of forty-six years after its completion, but was at length destroyed by fire

an element against which no precautions had been taken, because no idea of danger had been conceived. On the 22nd of August, 1755, the workmen returned on shore, having finished all necessary repairs for the season, between which time and the 2nd of December following the attending,boat had been several times to the lighthouse, particularly on the 1st of December, and landed some stores, when the lightkeepers made no manner of complaint. On the morning, however, of the 2nd of December, about two o'clock, when the ·light-keeper then upon the watch went into the lantern, as usual, to snuff the candles, he found the whole in a smoke; and on opening the door of the lantern into the balcony, a flame instantly burst from the inside of the cupola. He immediately endeavoured to alarm his companions, but they being in bed and asleep were not so ready in coming to his assistance as the occasion required. As there were always some lantern-buckets kept in the house, and a tub of water in the lantern, he attempted, as speedily as possible, to extinguish the fire in the cupola, by throwing water from the balcony upon the outside cover of lead. By this time his comrades approaching, he encouraged them to fetch up water with the leathern buckets from the sea; but as the height would be, at a medium, full seventy feet, this, added to the natural consternation that must attend such a sudden and totally unexpected event, would occasion the business of bringing up water to go on but slowly. Meanwhile, the flames gathering strength every moment, and the light-keeper having the water

to throw full four yards higher than his own head to be of any service, it is by no means surprising that, under all these difficulties, the fire, instead of being soon extinguished, would increase; but what put a sudden stop to further exertions was the following most remarkable circumstance:-As one of the light-keepers, named Henry Hall, a man aged ninety-four years, was looking upwards to observe the progress of the flames, a shower of melted lead fell from the roof; and a quantity of the liquid metal passed down his throat. The man having disclosed this fact was not believed, but on his death, which took place about twelve days after the accident, his body being opened, a solid piece of lead, weighing seven ounces and five drachms, was found in his stomach. Early in the morning the lighthouse was discovered to be on fire by some Cawsand fishermen, and a boat was immediately procured, and sent to relieve the people, who were supposed to be within it in distress. This boat reached the Eddystone rocks about ten o'clock, after the fire had been burning full eight hours; and in this time the three light-keepers were not only driven from all the rooms and the staircase, but, to avoid the falling of the timber, red-hot bolts, &c., upon them, they had taken refuge in a hole, or cave, on the east side of the rock, and were found almost in a state of stupefaction; it being then low water. The wind at this time was eastwardly, and though not very strong, was yet sufficient to render the landing upon the rock impracticable, or attended with the utmost hazard. It was with much difficulty, therefore, that the men could be taken into the boat; but this being accom plished, the boat hastened to Plymouth to procure them assistance. The late Admiral West, who then lay with a fleet in Plymouth Sound, no sooner heard of the fire than he sent a

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