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His after-fate no more was heard amid the martial train ;
His banner led the spears no more among the hills of
Spain !

LXII. THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.

THE Eddystone rocks are a dangerous ledge, of six or seven hundred feet in length, in the English Channel, about fourteen miles south-west of Plymouth. They were long noted as the cause of numerous shipwrecks, and merchants and sailors were very desirous that a lighthouse should be placed there. But the building of a lighthouse on a spot covered by water at high tides, and exposed to all the storms of the ocean, was a very difficult task; and many supposed it could not be done at all. But in the year 1696, a gentleman named Winstanley agreed with government to erect a tower on the largest of these fatal rocks.

He found great difficulties in his way; but he was a man of a great deal of ingenuity, as well as a great deal of perseverance; and at the end of two years he erected a building, almost wholly of timber, secured to the rocks by enormous bolts of iron. It was lighted for the first time on the 14th day of November, 1698. But though the lantern was more than sixty feet above the level of the sea, such was the violence of the storms of the ensuing winter, and so high did the waves rise, that the lightroom was at times actually buried under water. In consequence of this, the height was carried to one hundred and twenty-four feet, and the base enlarged in proportion.

Thus it remained some years, and was of great benefit to vessels entering or leaving the Channel At length, some repairs being necessary, Mr. Winstanley went to the lighthouse to superintend them. While he was there, a dreadful storm came on, which strewed the whole southern coast of England with wrecks. When the day broke, not a vestige was to be

seen of the Eddystone lighthouse, which had been completely swept away, and with it the architect and all his workmen. It was then remembered that Mr. Winstanley had once said he had such confidence in the strength of his structure that he should be willing to be in it in the greatest storm that ever blew. This destructive tempest occurred on the 26th day of November, 1703.

But Mr. Winstanley had shown that a lighthouse could be built on the rocks; and several disastrous shipwrecks which took place there had proved how great a benefit it had been during the time it existed. After some time, Mr. John Rudyerd undertook to erect another. He availed himself of all the advantages which could be derived from Winstanley's plan, and avoided his errors. The lower part was solid to the height of twenty-seven feet, being composed of alternate layers of granite and oak timber. It was fastened to the rocks by strong bolts; and the various parts of the timber were connected together by bars and spikes of iron, applied wher-X

ever a strain might be expected.

The building was ninety-two feet high, the diameter at the base twenty-three feet, and immediately under the balcony fourteen feet. It was of a circular form; and so ingenious was the design, and such was the judgment shown in the construction, that it seemed impossible it should ever be washed away by the waves of the ocean. This building exhibited a light for the space of forty-seven years, requiring, during that time, but little else than common attention to keep it in repair; and it might have withstood the effects of the winds and the waves for an unlimited period; but, in 1755, it was destroyed by fire.

This dreadful event took place in the month of December. There were three men residing at the Eddystone, to take care of the light. The day before the accident, they had been visited from Plymouth; and the report brought back was, that all was well. But in the night, when the keeper on the watch went to snuff the candles, he found the lightroom full of

smoke; and, on opening the door of the balcony, a flame burst from the inside, and the whole of the upper part appeared to be in a blaze. The man on watch instantly ran to awaken his companions; and these poor men, having no means of escape, being threatened with death by fire on the one hand and water on the other, were in the greatest alarm. One of them was looking up to the roof of the lightroom, when the lead happened to melt and fall upon him; and he was not only sadly scalded in the face and neck, but, what is very remarkable, a considerable portion of the molten metal actually entered his mouth, and passed into his stomach; whence, after his decease, it was extracted, and found to weigh seven

ounces.

At daylight in the morning, the disaster was perceived from the shore, and boats hastened off to the assistance of the lighthouse keepers. They were found in a very miserable plight, crowded into a small hollow on the eastern side of the rock, to avoid the pieces of burning timber and red-hot bolts which were continually falling from aloft. The poor man who swallowed the lead lived a few days, and then expired in great

agony.

Mr. Smeaton, the celebrated civil engineer, was next employed by the government to construct a lighthouse on the Eddystone rocks. Aware that it had once been washed away from want of weight, and destroyed a second time in consequence of being built of combustible materials, he resolved to guard against these dangers by using only iron and stone in the erection of the new tower. He landed on the rock, for the first time, in April, 1756, and found that of the building erected by Mr. Rudyerd, only a few iron bars and bolts, fixed in the rock, remained.

Workmen were immediately engaged, and a vessel was moored near the rock for their accommodation. Rocks of granite were hewn on shore, and carried off to the rock, and the different layers of stone were connected to each other by bolts, and by an ingenious system of dovetailing. Mortar

of a remarkably adhesive quality was used.

This light

house was finished and lighted in October, 1759; since which it has withstood the shocks of the winds and waves, and has required little or no repair.

LXIII. -THE INCHCAPE BELL.

SOUTHEY.

[An old writer mentions a tradition, that there was a rock in the German Ocean, twelve miles from land, very dangerous to navigators, called the Inchcape rock. Upon it there was a bell, fixed upon a piece of timber, which rang continually, being moved by the sea, giving notice to sailors of the danger. This bell was put there by the abbot of Aberbrothock; and being taken down by a sea pirate, a year afterwards he perished upon the same rock, with ship and goods, by the righteous judgment of God.]

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as ship might be:
Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flowed over the Inchcape rock;
So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not move the Inchcape bell.

The worthy abbot* of Aberbrothock
Had floated the bell on the Inchcape rock;
On the waves of the storm it floated and swung,
And louder and louder its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;

And then they knew the perilous rock,

And blessed the priests of Aberbrothock.

* Abbot, the chief, or governor, of a household of Roman Catholic monks, or priests, called a monastery.

The float of the Inchcape bell was seen,
A darker speck on the ocean green;
Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck,
And he fixed his eyes on the darker speck.

His eye was on the bell and float:
Said he, "My men, put out the boat,
And row me to the Inchcape rock,

And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothock."

The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape rock they go:

Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And cut the warning bell from the float.

Down sank the bell with a gurgling sound;

The bubbles arose, and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to this rock Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothock."

Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,
And scoured the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plundered store,
He steers his course to Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky
They cannot see the sun on high ;
The wind has blown a gale all day;
At evening it had died away.

"Canst hear," said one," the breakers roar? For yonder, methinks, should be the shore; Now where we are I cannot tell,

But I wish we could hear the Inchcape bell!"

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