The first of two articles by David Stevenson F.R.S.E Member of the Institute of Civil Engineers, describing the building of lighthouses. Published in 1860 for the Good Words magazine.

Every native of our seagirt kingdom ought to feel an interest in the questions-What do we owe to our lighthouses? and what would our country be without them?—but we suspect that, from lack of information, these questions are not viewed with the attention which they demand.

A stormy wind may rudely drift the sleet against our windows and disturb our rest; and perhaps our sympathies may be awakened for the men who patrol our dark streets as guardians of our property; but seldom in those dismal nights do our thoughts extend to the solitary outposts of our land, where, confined to the narrow cabin of a lightship, or watching in towers perched on bleak headlands or sunken rocks, the true guardians of this country’s naval greatness keep their quiet and unostentatious vigil unthought of, because remote and unknown.

What, indeed, would our country be without its lighthouses?—A rugged inhospitable land truly. Our shores no coaster could safely navigate, and no oversea vessel could confidently approach; while ever and anon, as in early times, our seabeaches would be strewed with the timbers of stranded vessels, and the bodies of their illfated crews! So common, indeed, were such calamities at the beginning of the present century, that the inhabitants of our Northern Isles regarded shipwrecks with indifference if not with real complacency. It had, indeed, become proverbial to observe, “that if wrecks were to happen, they might as well be sent to their poor islands as anywhere else;” and, acting on this convenient principle, the natives unsparingly availed themselves of the “providential” supplies thus laid to their hands, occasionally using claret to their barley-meal porridge, and even fencing their fields with Honduras mahogany, shipped from its native forests to grace the interiors of our palatial mansions! But the introduction of the lighthouse system put an end to this wholesale and indiscriminate consignment of property to the hands of the “wrecker ;” and at a later period, on complaining to an Orcadian pilot of the badness of his sails, his reply was, “Had it been God’s will that you came na’ here wi’ your lights we might a’ had better sails to our boats and more o’ other things.”

What we owe to our lighthouse system is well exemplified in the Bell or Inchcape Rock. Even in early times this reef was so great a terror to mariners, that a certain Abbot of Aberbrothock, as chronicled in Southey’s well-known lines, placed on it a bell, rung by the restless waves; and, as tradition has it, the Pirate, Sir Ralph the Rover was himself wrecked on that very reef from which he had, with murderous hands, removed the danger-signal of the pious monk. But leaving tradition and coming to facts, we learn that when Robert Stevenson made his first landing on the Bell Rock, in the year 1800, he found lodged in almost every crevice, sad proofs of the dismal tragedies which had been enacted on that treacherous spot. These melancholy evidences of death consisted of bayo-nets, musket-balls, and innumerable fragments of iron. All more perishable materials had been swept away, and a silver shoe-buckle was the only vestige of wearing-apparel to commemorate the graves of many who doubtless drew their last breath among the boiling surges of the Inchcape Rock. Nor was it only on the rock itself, unbeaconed by day, and unlighted by night, that vessels were driven to pieces and lost. Many ships were stranded on the neighbouring shores in trying to avoid the track, where, buried in the waves and concealed by their glassy covering, the dreaded hidden danger lay. Mr. Stevenson records a melancholy example of this, which happened in 1799, when a three-days’ gale from the south-east drove from their moorings, in the Downs and Yarmouth Roads, and from their southward courses, a large fleet of vessels. Borne north by the gale, these ships might easily have reached the anchorage of the Frith of Forth, for which the wind was fair; but night came on, and fearing the Bell Kock, their illfated navigators resolved to keep to sea, and thus escape its dangers, but driven before the pitiless storm in a dark December night, they lost all knowledge of their position and were helplessly wrecked—two of them on the Bell Rock, and about seventy on the eastern shores of Scotland, where, sad to tell, many of their brave crews perished.

“This fatal catastrophe,” says Mr. Stevenson, in a report to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses, “is more to be lamented, when it is considered that a light upon the Bell Rock, by opening a way to a place of safety, would infallibly have been the means of preventing such a calamity.” In how far this opinion was correct may be judged from the fact, that not a single vessel has been lost upon the Bell Rock since the completion of the lighthouse in 1811-a period of upwards of half-a-century! In fact the reef which was once a terror to mariners is now their comfort; the danger which they formerly dreaded they now confidently ap-proach, well knowing that so long as they can keep their vessels dodging “off and on” in sight of the everchanging white and red lights of the Bell Rock, they are in safety: though the sky be moonless and starless, they know that in the Bell Rock they have a guiding star, and that trusting to it in the darkness, they can run for the Friths of Forth or Tay when daylight dawns. Sir Walter Scott, on his visit to the Bell Pock in 1814, gave happy expression to the value of its midnight cheering beams in the following well-known lines, in which the lighthouse tells its own tale :-

“Far in the bosom of the deep,
O’er these wild shelves my watch I keep,
A ruddy gem of changeful light
Bound on the dusky brow of night.
The seaman bids my lustre hail,
And scorns to strike his tim’rous sail.”

What has been said of the Bell Rock applies, in at least some degree, to every light upon the coast; and although, perhaps, we have now happily no island-farms fenced with mahogany, and no islanders using wine instead of milk, yet it cannot be denied that there are some dark corners where lights are still required, and where similar happy results would follow their erection. Ours is a maritime country, and the extension of our lighthouses is the safeguard of its navy and its commerce; while the extinction of their hope-inspiring rays, —were such an idea conceivable, -would fill our sailors with despair, and cause a dismal night of national darkness and horror.

Of the early history of lighthouses little or nothing is known. A few obscure notices of the Colossus of Rhodes and the Pharos of Alexandria, in the writings of ancient authors, seem to comprehend all our information on the subject; but what was the origin, and what was the fate of these ancient structures-how they were built, and in what way they were lighted, we do not know. Our knowledge of modern lighthouses, extending back to the fifteenth century, is, however more exact, and to us more interesting and important. The Tour de Cordouan, at the mouth of the River Garonne in the Bay of Biscay, was finished in the year 1610, and, revolutionised by modern im-provements, it still maintains its character as one of the finest lighthouses in the world. Winstanley’s timber structure on the Eddystone was lighted in 1698, and was swept away in 1703, when, unhappily, he and all his men, who had been making some repairs on the building, perished. Rudyerd’s timber tower, erected on the same rock, was burned down in 1755, and the present lighthouse erected by Smeaton was lighted in 1759. The earliest light in Scotland is supposed to have been the open coalfire of the Isle of May, to be afterwards noticed; but the establishment of public lights in Scotland dates from 1786, when a bill, committing the management to the Commissioners of Northern Lighthouses, was passed; and the first light exhibited by them was Kinnairdhead, lighted in 1787, from the designs of Mr. Smith, their first engineer. The Ballast Board of Dublin, to whom are entrusted the management of the Irish Lights, was incorporated by Act of Parliament in the same year.

The construction and illumination of lighthouses have undergone vast improvements since the commencement of the present century ; and Britain has had no small share in furthering the development of this important branch of civil engineering. We owe to France, it is true, Fresnel’s Dioptric Apparatus, but Britain is preeminent for her lighthouse towers. The Eddystone of Smeaton, the Bell Rock of Robert Stevenson, and, in more modern times, Alan Stevenson’s Skerryvore and James Walker’s Bishop’s Rock Lighthouses are structures of which a writer in the “Quarterly Review” has truly said:
“Taken altogether, they are perhaps the most perfect specimens of modern architecture which exist. Tall and graceful as the minar of an Eastern mosque, they possess far more solidity and beauty of construction; and, in addition to this, their form is as appropriate to the purposes for which it was designed as anything ever done by the Greeks, and consequently meets the requirements of good architecture quite as much as a column of the Parthenon.”

Assuming that our readers are ready to admit the importance of the subject which we have undertaken to expound, we shall endeavour, in as plain and untechnical phraseology as possible, to give some account of the construction, illumination, and management of these useful and interesting structures; and if our illustrations are taken chiefly from Scottish lighthouses, we trust our readers will understand that it is because we happen to know most about the works on our Northern shores, and because it is to the Commissions of Northern Lighthouses that we are indebted for most of our published information on lighthouse engineering.

Lighthouses are almost invariably constructed on sites of difficult access. Perched on high headlands or remote islands, founded on sunken rocks or shifting sandbanks, in each case the engineer has to accommodate his design to the locality. It is impossible, in such a sketch as this, to describe all the structures that have been adopted in carrying out our lighthouse system; we can only give the reader an imperfect idea of some of the most important of them.

The ordinary lighthouse establishments situated on our headlands and large islands demand but little notice: they are all constructed on the same general rules-the illuminating apparatus, to be afterwards noticed, being the only exception. They consist of a tower, whose height depends on the elevation of the ground on which it is built, and the range from which it has to be seen, with a dwelling for the keepers and their families immediately adjoining. These buildings are necessarily placed, if not on the brink of a precipice, at all events on the most exposed place that can be found. In selecting the site for a comfortable house, we naturally seek for shelter; but in determining the best position for a lighthouse the engineer must generally adopt the most exposed and inhospitable bit of land he can find, and there he plants his tower, defying the elements and despising the shelter which all other mortals seek in fixing their abode. It is absolutely necessary, therefore, that all parts of the work should be made in the most substantial manner; and in order to repel rain and damp, the houses in many exposed places are built with an internal lining so as to form a double wall, and are roofed with lead instead of slates. Some of these land-stations are far removed from any house; and the first operation is to construct a road at great cost over bleak mountains and deep morasses, before a single ton of materials can be laid down at the site of the projected work ; from all which it will be seen that a lighthouse establishment, from its exposure and isolation, must, even in ordinary cases, be a work involving no ordinary amount of expense. The accompanying woodcut, showing Nosshead Lighthouse, will serve to convey to the reader an idea of these ordinary establishments.

In other cases the towers are built on detached rocky eminences, which are so limited in extent as to afford no space for accommodating the keepers’ families, and a site for their dwellings must be sought on the adjoining coast. Here the lighthouse engineer has not only to contend with all the difficulties of a situation exposed to wind and rain, but he has also the more formidable dangers of the sea to combat ; for on many of these outlying isolated rocks, surrounded by rapid tideways, the waves are seldom at rest and often break with great force. This class of stations may be fitly represented by the North Unst Lighthouse off the north coast of Shetland, which we select as being the most northern point of Her Majesty’s British Dominions. The North Unst Tower is built on an outlying rock of a conical form (called a “stack”), which rises to the height of nearly 200 feet above the sea. Towards the north its face is nearly perpendicular and exposed to the full “fetch” of the Northern Ocean. Its southern face is an abrupt rocky slope, which, previous to the cutting of steps on its surface, could only be scaled with great difficulty. The top of the rock affords little more area than is sufficient for the site of the lighthouse. The tower is 50 feet in height, and contains the lightroom, sleeping-room, kitchen, and provision store. The base of the tower is surrounded by a semicircular building, containing the oil, coal, and water stores. There is only one part of the rock at which a landing can be effected, and that of course only in favourable weather. The dwelling-houses for the families of the four lightkeepers are built on the Island of Unst, in a creek called Burra Fiord, about four miles from the lighthouse. The first light on this rock was shown from a temporary tower, erected in 1854, at the suggestion of the Admi-ralty, for the benefit of the North Sea Squadron, then engaged in prosecuting the Russian war. It was deemed advisable to provide certain lights before winter set in, and only a few months remained to make all the necessary preparations for indicating to our navy the rugged shores of Northern Shetland. The “Pharos” steamer left Glasgow, with the workmen and temporary lighthouse and dwell-ings, on the 31st July, and the light was exhibited on the Ilth October; and when it is considered that the whole of the materials and stores (consisting of water, cement, lime, coal, ironwork, glass, provisions, &c., and weighing upwards of 120 tons), had to be landed on an exposed rock, and carried up to the top in small quantities on the backs of labourers, it will be seen that the exertions of Mr. Brebner, who acted as resident engineer, and of Mr. Watt, who took charge of the landing department, were in the highest degree praiseworthy. Even with the fine weather that prevailed, the landings were latterly very difficult, and could only be accomplished by lashing ropes to the various articles and lowering them out of the landing boats, and thereafter hauling them to the edge of the rock. But notwithstanding all untoward circumstances, the whole process of transporting the materials to the top of the rock, and erecting the lighthouse, was accomplished in the wonderfully short space of 26 days. The temporary houses were of iron,
surrounded by a casing of rubble masonry set in cement. Seeing that these temporary buildings were elevated 200 feet above the sea, it was hardly to be expected that they should have had anything but the wind and the rain to withstand; but the succeeding winter months revealed a very different and unlooked-for state of matters. From the 1st to the 4th December, the North of Shetland was visited by a severe gale from the North-west. The foreman of the quarriers, who had been left to complete the cutting of the steps in the face of the rock, reported that on the 3rd of December the sea began to break over the rock about 9 a.m., and increased in weight until 1 o’clock: several seas thereafter broke heavily on the tower, and one of them burst open the door of the dwelling-house, deluging the whole with water—so that the view we have given in the woodcut does not exaggerate the fury of the waves. Similar storms occurred during the winter; and the seas fell with such violence upon the iron roof of the dwelling-house, and on the lantern of the lighthouse, as to raise fears for the safety of the buildings. An elevation of nearly 200 feet was not sufficient to place these temporary buildings beyond damage from the sea, and in erecting the permanent establishment, it was resolved to raise the lightroom 50 feet above the lofty rock on which it stands, so that the seas might pass over without obscuring or endangering the light. The permanent structure, which we have already described, shows a fixed dioptric light of the first order, and was completed in 1858 at a cost, including the shore establishment, of about 32,000l.

The most important class of lighthouses is, how-ever, that of which the Eddystone, the Bell Rock, and the Skerryvore are examples. These three works, moreover, are peculiar, as having been executed under the personal superintendence of their respective engineers; and we shall give some brief notices from the interesting published narratives of their construction.

The history of the far-famed Eddystone is given in the narrative of Smeaton. We have already said that two timber structures had successively been placed upon the rock and destroyed-one by water, the other by fire; but Smeaton resolved that his work should be of stone, so as to defy both elements; and after the lapse of more than a century, it still stands at the head of engineering triumphs. The first stone of this remarkable building was laid in June, 1757, and the last in August, 1759-the whole being completed in two years. The tower is 68 feet in height and 26 feet in diameter at the level of the first entire course.

The building is founded on a sloping rock, the upper part of which is on the level of highwater of springtides. The stones composing the work are united by means of stone joggles, dovetailed joints, and oak trenails. Smeaton adopted an arched form for the floors of his building, which rendered it necessary, in order to counteract the outward thrust, to insert chains embedded in grooves cut in the masonry; but Stevenson, in designing the Bell Rock Lighthouse (to be mentioned hereafter), improved on Smeaton’s plan not only as regards the general arrangement of the masonry, but by converting the floors into effective bonds; so that, instead of exerting an outward thrust, they actually tie or bind the outer walls together.
In these early times the subject of lighthouse illumination had scarcely dawned on engineers, for the only light which crowned this masterpiece of Smeaton’s genius was a frame supporting 24 candles! Parabolic reflectors were substituted at the beginning of this century, when the light came into the possession of the Trinity House.

The engineer of the Bell Rock Lighthouse had all the advantage of Smeaton’s earlier experience, and he was ever ready to acknowledge that Smeaton’s narrative must be his textbook. But there can be no doubt whatever that the Bell Rock presented peculiar engineering difficulties. The Eddystone Rock is barely covered by the tide at highwater, while the Bell Rock is barely uncovered at low-water. Its surface can only be seen at low tides, and it is submerged to the depth of 16 feet at highwater. Rudyerd’s timber tower, which stood for forty-five years on the Eddystone, could not have survived a single winter at the Bell Rock. The conception, therefore, of erecting a stone tower on this low-lying reef was no less remarkable for its novelty than for its boldness. Fully alive to all the special difficulties of the case, as ascertained by careful examination and survey, Robert Stevenson, in 1800, prepared his design for the Bell Rock Lighthouse, adapting it to its unique site, and introducing all the improvements of design and arrangement of materials which distinguish it from the Eddystone. His proposal was duly reported to the Northern Lighthouse Board, to which he was Engineer, but it was generally received by the public with grave doubts as to its practicability, and still graver doubts as to the possibility of obtaining a loan of money to be expended on so difficult a project. Mr. Stevenson, adhering to his firm belief in the practicability of his design, urged the Board to consult the late Mr. John Rennie, who, after inspecting the rock along with Mr. Stevenson in 1805, concurred in his opinion as to the practicability of erecting a tower of masonry. Strengthened with this additional advice, the Board resolved to embark in the hazardous undertaking, which, thanks to perseverance and engineering skill, was, after five years’® labour, successfully completed by Mr. Stevenson in accordance with his design.

At the risk of presenting what may perhaps be not altogether new to some of our readers, we shall give a few extracts from Mr. Stevenson’s ” Account of the Bell Rock Lighthouse,” which has not inaptly been styled the Robinson Crusoe of engineering literature.

During the first two seasons, the engineer and workmen lived in a floating lightship, moored about three miles off the rock. The vessels which conveyed the stones, three in number, were named the “Smeaton,” the “Sir Joseph Banks,” and the
“Patriot.” The dangers experienced in making passages to and from these vessels are forcibly related in the following interesting narrative :- “Soon after the artificers landed on the rock they commenced work; but the wind coming to blow hard, the ‘Smeaton’s’ boat and crew, who had brought their complement of eight men to the rock, went off to examine her riding-ropes, and see that they were in proper order. The boat had no sooner reached the vessel than she went adrift, carrying the boat along with her; and both had even got to a considerable distance before this situation of things was observed-every one being so intent upon his own particular duty that the boat had not been seen leaving the rock. As it blew hard, the crew, with much difficulty, set the mainsail upon the “Smeaton,’ with a view to work her up to the buoy, and again lay hold of the moorings. By the time that she was got round to make a tack towards the rock, she had drifted at least three miles to leeward; and having both the wind and tide against her, the writer perceived, with no little anxiety, that she could not possibly return to the rock till long after its being overflowed. There were this morning in all thirty-two persons on the rock, with only two boats, whose complement, even in good weather, did not exceed twenty-four sitters; but to row to the floating-light with so much wind, and in so heavy a sea, a complement of eight men for each boat was as much as could with propriety be attempted so that in this way about one-half of our number was unprovided for. Under these circumstances, had the writer ventured to dispatch one of the boats, in expectation of either working the Smeaton’ sooner up towards the rock, or in hopes of getting her boat brought to her assistance, this must have given an immediate alarm to the artificers, each of whom would have insisted upon taking to his own boat, and leaving the eight artificers belonging to the ‘Smeaton’ to their chance. Of course a scuffle might have ensued ; and it is hard to say, in the ardour of men contending for life, where it might have ended. It has even been hinted to the writer that a party of the pickmen were determined to keep exclusively to their own boat against all hazards.

“The unfortunate circumstance of the ” Smeaton’ and her boat having drifted was, for a considerable time, only known to the writer and to the landing-master, who removed to the farther point of the rock, where he kept his eye steadily upon the progress of the vessel. While the artificers were at work, chiefly in sitting or kneeling postures, excavating the rock or boring with the jumpers, and while their numerous hammers and the sound of the smith’s anvil continued, the situation of things did not appear so awful. In this state of suspense, with almost certain destruction at hand, the water began to rise upon those who were at work on the lower parts of the sites of the beacon and lighthouse. From the run of sea upon the rock, the forge-fire was also sooner extinguished this morning than usual; and the volumes of smoke having ceased, objects in every direction became visible from all parts of the rock. After having had about three hours’ work, the men began pretty generally to make towards their respective boats for their jackets and stockings, when, to their astonishment, instead of three they found only two boats-the third being adrift with the ” Smeaton.’ Not a word was uttered by any one, but all appeared to be silently calculating their numbers, and looking to each other with evident marks of perplexity depicted in their countenances. The landing-master, conceiving that blame might be attached to him for allowing the boat to leave the rock, still kept at a distance. At this critical moment, the author was standing upon an elevated part of the rock, where he endeavoured to mark the progress of the ‘Smeaton,’ not a little surprised that some effort was not making to bring the boat and attempt our relief. The workmen looked steadfastly upon the writer, and turned occasionally towards the vessel, still far to leeward. All this passed in the most perfect silence, and the melancholy solemnity of the group made an impression never to be effaced from his mind.

“The writer had all along been considering various schemes—providing the men could be kept under command-which might be put in practice for the general safety, in hopes that the ‘Smeaton’ might be able to pick up the boats to leeward when they were obliged to leave the rock. He was accordingly about to address the artificers on the perilous nature of their circumstances, and to propose that all hands should strip off their upper clothing when the higher parts of the rock were laid under water; that the seamen should remove every unnecessary weight and encumbrance from the boats; that a specified number of men should go into each boat, and that the remainder should hang by the gun-wales, while the boats were to be rowed gently towards the ‘Smeaton,’ as the course to the ‘Pharos’ or floating-light lay rather to windward of the rock. But when he attempted to speak, his mouth was so parched that his tongue refused utterance, and he now learned by experience that the saliva is as necessary as the tongue itself for speech. He then turned to one of the pools on the rock and lapped a little water, which produced an immediate relief. But what was his happiness when, on rising from this unpleasant beverage, someone called out ‘ a boat! a boat!’ and on looking around, at no great distance, a large boat was seen making towards the rock. This at once enlivened and rejoiced every heart. The timely visitor proved to be James Spink, the Bell Rock pilot, who had come express from Arbroath with letters. Spink had for some time seen the ‘ Smeaton,’ and had even supposed, from the state of the weather, that all hands were on board of her, till he approached more nearly and observed people on the rock. Upon this fortunate change of circumstances sixteen of the artificers were sent at two trips in one of the boats, with instructions for Spink to proceed with them to the floating-light. This being accomplished, the remaining sixteen followed in the two boats belonging to the service of the rock.

“Every one felt the most perfect happiness at leaving the Bell Rock this morning, though a very hard and even dangerous passage to the floating-light still awaited us, as the wind by this time had increased to a pretty hard gale, accompanied with a considerable swell of sea. The boats left the rock about nine, but did not reach the vessel till twelve o’clock noon, after a most disagreeable and fatiguing passage of three hours. Every one was as completely drenched in water as if he had been dragged astern of the boats.”

After the second year’s operations, however, the erection of a temporary barrack, which is represented in the cut upon next page, relieved the working party from these dangerous voyages, but only to encounter further perils, of which the following description of the Engineer gives a lively picture:— This scene-the sublime appearance of the waves-he greatly enjoyed while sitting at his window.

Each wave approached the Beacon like a vast scroll unfolding, and in passing discharged a quantity of air, which he not only distinctly felt, but was even sufficient to lift the leaves of a book which lay before him.

“The gale continues with unabated violence to-day, and the sprays rise to a still greater height, having been carried over the masonry of the build-ing, or about 90 feet above the level of the sea. At four o’clock this morning it was breaking into the cook’s berth (in the Beacon), when he rang the alarm-bell, and all hands turned out to attend to their personal safety.

The floor of the smith’s or mortar gallery was now completely burst up by the force of the sea, when the whole of the deals and the remaining articles upon the floor were swept away-such as the cast-iron mortar-tubs, the iron hearth of the forge; the smith’s bellows, and even his anvil, were thrown down upon the rock. The boarding of the cookhouse, or storey above the smith’s gallery, was also partly carried away, and the brick and plaster work of the fireplace shaken and loosened. It was observed during this gale that the beacon-house had a good deal of tremor, but none of that ‘twisting motion’ occasionally felt and complained of before the additional wooden sturts were set up for the security of the principal beams. Before the tide rose to its full height to-day, some of the artificers passed along the bridge into the lighthouse, to observe the effects of the sea upon it; and they reported that they had felt a slight tremulous motion in the building when great seas struck it in a certain direction about high-water mark. On this occasion the sprays were again observed to wet the balcony, and even to come over the parapet wall into the interior of the lightroom. In this state of the weather Captain Wilson and the crew of the ‘Floating Light’ were much alarmed for the safety of the artificers upon the rock, especially when they observed with a telescope that the floor of the smith’s gallery had been carried away, and that the triangular cast-iron sheer-crane was broken down. It was quite impos-sible, however, to do anything for their relief until the gale should take off. . .

“The writer’s cabin in the Beacon measured not more than 4 feet 3 inches on the floor; and though, from the oblique direction of the beams of the Beacon, it widened towards the top, yet it did not admit of the full extension of his arms when he stood on the floor; while its length was little more than sufficient for suspending a cot-bed during the night, calculated for being triced up to the roof during the day, which left free room for the admission of occasional visitants. His folding-table was attached with hinges immediately under the small window of the apartment; and his books, barometer, thermometer, portmanteau, and two or three camp-stools, formed the bulk of his moveables. His diet being plain, the paraphernalia of the table were proportionately simple; though everything had the appearance of comfort, and even of neatness, the walls being covered with green cloth, formed into panels with red tape, and his bed festooned with curtains of yellow cotton stuff. If, on speculating on the abstract wants of man in such a state of exclusion, one were reduced to a single book, the Sacred Volume-whether considered for the striking diversity of its story, the morality of its doctrine, or the important truths of its Gospel-would have proved by far the greatest treasure.”

The operations at the Bell Rock were commenced in 1807, and three long and irksome working seasons elapsed ere the building was brought above the highwater level; and it was not till February, 1811, that the light was first exhibited. The cost, including the establishment ashore at Arbroath, where the lightkeepers live, was 61,000%. The tower is 100 feet in height, 42 feet in diameter at the base, and 15 at the top, and contains six apart-ments, including the lightroom. The light at the Bell Rock is revolving red and white, and was even, at the time of its first exhibition, fitted up with parabolic reflectors and argand lamps, according to the best catoptric principles of illumination; and the same kind of apparatus continues in use at the Bell Rock Lighthouse up to the present time-a strong proof of the degree of perfection to which Mr. Robert Stevenson had brought the catoptric system of illumination even at that early period.

Those who are curious to know what sort of dwelling-place the Bell Rock Lighthouse affords in a storm, may get a faint notion from the illustration accompanying this paper, which is engraved from Turner’s picture. The waves completely envelope the tower to the height of 60 or 70 feet, and, shooting up its curved outline, deluge the balcony and lightroom parapet with spray, which has been known to fall so heavily even at that elevation as to wash from its place the ladder used for cleaning the outside of the lightroom windows. The following is Mr. Stevenson’s account of witnessing the effects of a heavy sea after the completion of the work :—

“He sailed from Arbroath with the tender, in a pretty hard gale from north-east, at four o’clock in the morning of the 9th of December, and at seven got close to the rock. The lighthouse now appeared in one of its most interesting aspects, standing calmly among the waves, while the sea around was in the wildest state of agitation. The lightkeepers did not seem to be in motion; but the scene was by no means still, as the noise and dashing of the waves were unceasing. The seas rose in the most surprising manner to the height of the kitchen windows, or about 70 feet above the rock; and, after spending their force in a perpendicular direc-tion, successively fell in great quantities round the base of the lighthouse, while considerable portions of the spray were seen adhering, as it were, to the building, and guttering down its sides in the state of froth as white as snow. Some of the great waves burst, and were expended upon the rock, before they reached the building; while others struck the base, and, embracing the walls, met on the western side of the house, where they dashed together and produced a most surprising quantity of foam. Though there was no possibility of effecting a landing to-day, yet the vessel lay off and on till low-water, when she bore away for the Frith of Forth, leaving the inhabitants of the rock surrounded, and even enveloped, by the sea in its utmost fury, yet in a state of comparative safety, and enjoying feelings of the utmost security.”

The Skerryvore Lighthouse, the last of these pillars founded on outlying reefs which we shall notice, has also been fully described by its engineer in his published narative. It is exposed to the full “fetch” of the Atlantic Ocean; and its construc-tion, on account of the foul ground by which it is surrounded, involved no small amount of risk and difficulty, although the aids of steam for towing the stone barges afforded a facility which was not enjoyed by the engineers of the Eddystone and the Bell Rock. The Skerryvore is further peculiar, inasmuch as it is not a solitary rock, but is surrounded by foul ground, which extends on either side of it for many miles. In the immediate neigh-bourhood of the principal reef on which the lighthouse is erected, no fewer than one hundred and thirty outlying rocks were discovered, while others appear at intervals of some miles-the whole track of foul ground occupying a line of about seven miles. In a storm all these low-lying rocks are submerged and cannot be distinctly seen, serving only to increase the tumult of the breaking waves in passing over them. Here then is a case different from either the Eddystone or the Bell Rock, demanding a powerful light placed on a high tower, and capable of being seen by vessels at a great distance, so as to warn them of their approach to the outlying dangers by which the lighthouse is surrounded. While, therefore, an elevation of sixty-eight feet might suffice at the Eddystone, and the greater height of one hundred feet-on account of the lowness of its foundation-was required at the Bell Rock, it is clear that a greater height of tower was necessary at Skerryvore. Mr. Alan Stevenson accordingly resolved on adopting one hundred and thirty feet as the height; and both in its proportions and its beauty of outline, it greatly surpasses its rivals. The proportions of the three towers are as follows :

In such a situation as that of Skerryvore everything had to be provided and transported from a distance. Barracks were erected at the workyard in the neighbouring Island of Tyree, and also in the Isle of Mull where the granite for the tower was quarried. A pier was built in Mull for the shipment and landing of materials; and at Tyree a harbour or basin, with a reservoir and sluices for scouring the entrance, were formed for the accommodation of the small vessel which attends the light-house. It was besides found necessary, in order to expedite the transport of the building materials from Tyree and Mull to Skerryvore Rock, to build a steam-tug, which also served, in the early stages of the work, as a floating barrack for the workmen. In that branch of the service she ran many risks while she lay moored off the rock in a perilous anchorage, with two-thirds of the horizon of foul ground, and a rocky and deceitful bottom, on which the anchor often tripped.

The operations at Skerryvore were commenced in the summer of 1838, by placing on the rock a wooden barrack, similar to that employed at the Bell Rock. The framework was erected in the course of the season; but in a great gale which occurred on the night of the 3rd November fol-lowing, it was entirely destroyed, nothing remaining to point out its site but a few broken and twisted iron stanchions, and attached to one of them the end of a broken timber so shaken and rent by dashing against the rock as literally to resemble a bunch of laths. Thus did one night obliterate all traces of a season’s toil, and blast the hopes, which the workmen fondly cherished, of a stable dwelling on the rock, and of refuge from the miseries of sea-sickness, which the experience of the season had taught many of them to dread. A second and successful attempt was made to erect another house of the same description, strengthened by a few additional iron ties, and placed in a part of the rock which was hoped might possibly be less exposed to the breach of the heaviest waves than the site of the first barrack. This second house braved the storm. “Perched forty feet above the wave-beaten rock, in this singular abode,” says Mr.
Alan Stevenson, ” with a goodly company of thirty men, I spent many a weary day and night,-at those times when the sea prevented any one going down to the rock, —anxiously looking for supplies from the shore, and earnestly longing for a change of weather, favourable for prosecuting the works. For miles round, nothing could be seen but white foaming breakers, and nothing heard but howling winds and lashing waves. At such seasons much of our time was spent in bed; for there alone we had effectual shelter from the winds and the spray, which searched every cranny in the walls of the barrack. Our slumbers too, were at times fearfully interrupted by the sudden pouring of the sea over the roof, the rocking of the house on its pillars, and the spurting of water through the seams of the doors and windows-symptoms which, to one suddenly aroused from sound sleep, recalled the appalling fate of the former barrack, which had been engulphed in the foam not twenty yards from our dwelling, and for a moment seemed to summon us to a similar fate.”

The foundation-stone of the tower was laid on July 7, 1840, by the late Duke of Argyll, who, as proprietor of the adjacent Island of Tyree, took a great interest in the success of the works, and granted to the Commissioners free permission to quarry granite on any part of the Argyll Estate- a freedom which was generously continued by the present Duke of Argyll.
The light was exhibited for the first time in February 1844. It is a revolving light, and reaches its brightest state once every minute. It is produced by the revolution of eight great annular lenses around a central lamp with four wicks, and belongs to the first order of Dioptric lights in the system of Fresnel. The light may be seen from a vessel’s deck at a distance of eighteen miles. The entire cost of the lighthouse-including the purchase of the steam-vessel, and the building of the harbour at Hynish for the reception of the small vessel (which now attends the lighthouse) —was 86,9771. 17s. 7d.

“In such a situation as Skerryvore,” says the Engineer, “innumerable delays and disappointments were to be expected by those engaged in the work; and the entire loss of the fruit of the first season’s labour in the course of a few hours was a good lesson in the school of patience, and of trust in something better than an arm of flesh. During our progress, also, cranes and other materials were: swept away by the waves; our attending vessels were driven by sudden gales to seek shelter at a distance from the rocky shores of Mull and Tyree ; and the workmen were left on the rock desponding and idle, and destitute of many of the comforts with which a more roomy and sheltered dwelling and the neighbourhood of friends are generally connected. Daily risks were run in landing on the rock in a heavy surf, in blasting the splintery gneiss, or by the falling of heavy bodies from the tower on the narrow space below, to which so many persons were necessarily confined. Yet had we not any loss of either life or limb; and although our labours were prolonged from dawn to night, and our provisions were chiefly salt, the health of the people, with the exception of a few slight cases of dysentery, was generally good throughout the six successive summers of our sojourn on the rock. The close of the work was welcomed with thankfulness by all engaged in it; and our remarkable preservation was viewed, even by many of the most thoughtless, as in a peculiar manner the gracious work of Him by whom the very hairs of our heads are all numbered.”

We close our present paper by noticing the floating-light used where no footing can be had whereon to found a tower; and though it fulfils its object less perfectly than a lighthouse, yet, as admirably organized by the Trinity House of London, it is an indispensable part of our British Lighthouse system. The Lightship is a well-found vessel of one hundred and fifty tons burden, made fast to secure moorings. It costs, including all equipments, about 4000l, and is maintained at a cost of about 1000%. per annum. The lantern, which is five feet six inches diameter, surrounds the mast, on which it is raised when hoisted. The vessel is manned by a crew of eleven in number, so as to work the ship in case of her breaking adrift; and to their praise be it said-although there are forty-seven lightships on the Coasts of England and Ireland-there is no instance on record in which the brave crews of these vessels have voluntarily run from their station in bad weather. Whether we consider, therefore, the important position which our lightships occupy among the tortuous channels leading to our great ports of London and Liverpool, or the calm endurance of their ever-tempest-rocked inmates, they cannot fail to arrest our interest, and inspire us with thankfulness that men are found ever ready to discharge the most unenviable duties in the important and humane work of protecting the lives of our hardy seamen.