THERE is another facility given to the mariner, which, if not so absolutely necessary to his progress as the compass, tends to relieve him from much of that danger to which he is continually exposed. This is the Lighthouse erected along the sea-coast, or on some rock far away from the shore, over which the waves of the tempestuous ocean are unceasingly rolling, and which is placed there to warn passing or approaching vessels of shoals or other dangers that might cause their destruction. A few centuries ago, in and around England the sea and the land were alike dark. The bluff headlands of our coast looked over the sunken rocks, and the dangerous shoals-the shifting seasands had no friendly light to throw its golden streak upon the boiling eddies, or warn the traveller where Death was ever

waiting for his prey. The billows broke, booming upon the beach, over the wrecked vessel; for then, instead of life-boats manned with brave men, who from childhood have been familiar with the dangers of the deep, there were cruel wreckers prowling upon the shore in the darkness, ready to slay and rob the half-drowned mariners rather than to rescue them.

One of the earliest lighthouses of which we have any account was built on a rock called Pharos, opposite the city of Alexandria, about the year 283 B.C., in the time of Ptolemy Philadelphus, king of Egypt. This island was something short of a mile from the city, to which it was joined by a causeway, and upon the rock, of which it chiefly consists, Sostratus, the son of Dexiphanes, built a tower of white marble, which was considered one of the seven wonders of the world. It had several stories one above another, adorned with columns and balustrades, and galleries, formed of the whitest marble, wrought into the most beautiful workmanship. On the top, fires were kept constantly burning to direct sailors how to gain the harbour of Alexandria, which was at that time exceedingly difficult of access. And such was the splendour of the light, that it is said to have been visible at the distance of nearly a hundred miles, a fact that appears to be incredible. No pains were spared to render this tower as substantial and beautiful as possible, and the erection is calculated to have cost as much as eight hundred talents, which, if they are to be considered as Attic talents, were equal to £165,000 of our money, or if they were Egyptian coins, would amount in value to more than £300,000 sterling. Its fame indeed became so general, that its name was adopted as a generic term, and every lighthouse was afterwards known, almost till our own day, by the appellation of Pharos.

As the arts improved, so did the construction of these edifices progress, until one of the greatest accomplishments of engineering skill, ever attempted upon such works, was exhibited

in the construction of the Eddystone Lighthouse, which is, indeed, much more entitled than the Pharos of Alexandria to be considered one of the wonders of the world. The rock on which this tower is built is placed about twelve miles southwest of Plymouth, and consists of a series of submarine cliffs, stretching from the west side (which is so precipitous that the largest ship can ride close beside them) in an easterly direction, for nearly half a mile. At the distance of about a quarter of a mile more is another rock, so that a more dangerous marine locality can hardly be imagined. Both these rocks had proved the cause of many fatal shipwrecks, and it was at last resolved to make an attempt to obviate the danger. In the year 1696, a gentleman of Essex, named Winstanley, who had a turn for architecture and mechanics, was engaged to erect a lighthouse upon the Eddystone rock, and in four years he completed it. It did not, however, stand long, for while some repairs were in progress under his direction in 1703, on the 26th November, a violent hurricane came on which blew the lighthouse down, and Mr. Winstanley and all his workmen perished-nothing remaining of the edifice but a few stones and a piece of iron chain.

In the spring of 1706 an Act of Parliament was obtained for rebuilding the lighthouse, and a gentleman named Rudyerd, a silk mercer, was the engineer engaged. He placed five courses of heavy stones upon the rock, and then erected a superstructure of wood. The lighthouse on the Bell Rock, off the coast of Fife, and the one placed at the entrance of the Mersey on the Black Rock, are similarly constructed, so that there seemed to be good reason for adopting the principle. Mr. Smeaton thought that the work was done in a masterly and effective manner; but in 1755 the edifice was destroyed by fire, and he was next retained as the engineer for this important building.

The result of his labours has justly been considered worthy of the admiration of the world, for it is distinguished alike for

its strength, durability, and beauty of form. The base of the tower is about twenty-six feet nine inches in diameter, and the masonry is so formed as to be a part of the solid rock, to the height of thirteen feet above the surface, where the diameter is diminished to nineteen feet and a half. The tower then rises in a gradually diminishing curve to the height of eighty-five feet, including the lantern, which is twenty-four feet high. The upper extremity is finished by a cornice, a balustrade being placed around the base of the lantern for use as well as ornament.

The tower is furnished with a door and windows, and the whole edifice outside bears the graceful outline of the trunk of a mighty tree, combining lightness with elegance and strength.

Mr. Smeaton commenced his labours in 1756, and completed the building in four years. Before commencing operations he took accurate drawings of the exterior of the rock; and the stones, which were brought from the striking and romantic district of Dartmoor, were all formed to fit into its crevices, and so prepared as to be dovetailed together, and strung by oaken plugs. When put into their places, and then firmly cemented, the whole seemed to form, and does indeed constitute, a part of the solid rock.

The sand-bank off the coast of Ramsgate, known by the name of the Goodwin Sands, is a far more dangerous foe to the mariner than the Eddystone rocks ever were before any friendly lighthouse rose above the waters, and pointed out to approaching vessels the dangers by which they were beset. Situated as it is in the main track of that watery highway along which there ever moves to and fro the chief part of the commerce of the world—there, perhaps, more noble ships have foundered than on any other sand-bank in the ocean. At one moment a ship may be in ten fathoms soundings, and in the next strike upon this treacherous shoal, where her destruction is inevitable. To guard against this fearful danger, various efforts have been made to plant some beacon on these sands, which should warn the seaman of the perils which await him, but one after another, the waves have washed away the various structures which have been erected for this purpose. No solid foundation could be found-every attempt failed. So deep down under the floor of the ocean do the sands extend, that no plummet could ever sound their depth. Dangerous as these sands are, which stretch over an extent of nearly ten miles, they still form a safe shield to the shore, by receiving the first burst of those mighty waves which are raised by the easterly winds. Thus they become a barrier against the bil lows that would otherwise be rolled upon the beach, and render the Downs a safe anchorage-ground, which, but for this,