my papers under my head, and my haversack, with some water, near my side. My weakness seemed to favour the most extraordinary creations of the brain. I became surrounded, especially towards evening, with a distinct assemblage of grotesque and busy figures, with which, could I have seen them under different circumstances, I should have been highly amused. Yet do I believe them to have been a great relief from the utter loneliness that must otherwise have surrounded me, as it really required an effort to establish the truth of my being alone. I passed another long and dreary night; and from its being rather milder, had some little sleep, although of a distressing and disturbed nature, and not in the least refreshing. The morning of the 9th arrived, and I could then with difficulty support myself even on my knees. Still, after extraordinary exertions, I procured a fresh supply of water, and lay down-I thought most likely never to rise again. A violent burning sensation in the stomach had now come on. A few mouthfuls of water allayed it, but brought on violent spasms for five or ten minutes, after which I had, for a little while, comparative relief. In this state, gradually growing weaker, I continued until the morning of the 10th. During the night it rained in torrents, which, although in some respects inconvenient and disagreeable, had in a great measure drawn the frost from my feet and hands, which, as well as my face, had become very much swollen. In the course of the morning I thought I heard the sound of voices. I raised my head a little from the ground-all I could now accomplish-and looking through the alders, I saw a party of men and some horses on the opposite side of the river, and scarcely a hundred yards distant from where I lay. My surprise and joy were of course excessive; yet I had of late seen so many phantoms, that I was quite at a loss whether to consider it a reality or not. When at length convinced, I discovered, alas! that both my strength and voice were so completely gone that I could neither make myself seen nor heard. All my exertions were unavailing; and my horror and disappointment may be readily conceived at seeing them depart again in the direction from which they had come. I had now given up all hope, and once more resigned myself to my apparently inevitable fate. Three hours had passed, when I again thought I heard the sound of horses' feet on the bed of the river. On looking up, I saw they had returned to the same spot. My efforts to make myself heard were once more renewed, and I at last succeeded in producing a howl so inhuman, as to be mistaken by them for that of a wolf; but on looking up the stream, they saw my handkerchief, which I had fastened to the alder, and knowing me to have been missing before they left the settlement, surmised the truth, and came at once to my assistance. I was taken into a cabin built at the stern of the tow-boat, in which there was a small stove. They there made a bed for me, and covered me with blankets and rugs. They made me a sort of pap with bread and sugar, which they offered, and also some potatoes. I declined their kind offering, but begged to have a little tea, which they gave me, and I went to sleep. The tow-boat had to continue her voyage some distance up the river with her freight, after which we returned, and got to Campbell's late in the afternoon, where I met with every kindness and attention. The house of Mr Campbell, to which I was brought, was but a very ordinary log-house, yet with all its simple homeliness I felt quite comfortable, seeing I was surrounded with the most perfect cleanliness; and the good dame was, from long experience, well skilled as to the case she had to deal with, at the same time saying mine was much the worst she had ever had under her care. I have thus endeavoured to give an imperfect sketch of my wanderings during a period of more than five days and nights, without either food, fire, or shelter from the inclemency of the weather. My recovery has been rapid; although I at first suffered a great deal, both from the returning circulation in my hands and feet, and after partaking of food. I was in a few days sufficiently well to be removed down to the mouth of the river Tobique, where I found my poor wife anxiously awaiting my arrival. I must, in conclusion, say that my wonderful escape ought at least to convince me that God is ever merciful to those who sincerely put their trust in Him. THE INVALID SEA VOYAGE. WHEN all other remedies fail, physicians recommend travelling, a sea voyage, or some other mode of change of air, locality, and habits; and such changes often produce wonderful effects on the system. Nor can this be well explained in theory. Physicians know not how it happens; they prescribe it empirically, and, as in many other cases, are guided by experience, not by reasoning. To invalids, there is something at first view in a sea voyage repulsive and uninviting; but if the arrangements and accommodation are at all tolerable, this feeling is soon got the better of. To pass from a comfortable home into a ship, appears at first unpleasant; but to pass from the crowded smoky atmosphere of the city to the pure, expansive, and quiet atmosphere of the ocean, will be found a relief and a pleasure. Let us see what is the difference of this atmosphere from the other, and then we will be better able to judge, especially in the case of a debilitated nervous person, one whose digestive organs are out of order, or worn, and whose chest, and breathing, and circulation are constant sources of anxiety and annoyance. The sea air is pure and uncontaminated. It is of a soft equable temperature-lower than that of land often is, it is true, but not liable to such sudden changesnever dry and parched; and rarely, except under a tropic sun, hot and suffocating. It contains, in general, about an equable portion of moisture-not too muchnever in excess, as is often the case on land, and never too little. The stratum of air next the sea is, on the whole, drier than that on a corresponding portion of land. This arises from certain laws of temperature and evaporation. Then its electric condition is much more uniform-a matter of more importance than is generally imagined. There are no epidemics, influenzas, plagues, or anything of the kind experienced at sea. On the contrary, as soon as the fugitive and sufferer from such maladies finds himself fairly out into the ocean, all of them disappear. How seldom do we find the sailor, while at sea, affected with any of those maladies so common on land, and especially in cities! No one but an invalid can know or appreciate the comfort of a sea atmosphere, the increased ease of breathing, the renewed vigour and elasticity, the absence of palpitations, and the sound sleep which the monotonous dashing and the salutary motion of the wavy billows induce. To a landsman, to be sure, the rolling motion at first is not so pleasant; but custom soon reconciles him to this; and in certain cases this very motion becomes highly beneficial. The sea air, we have said, is pure and bracing. Instead of the noxious particles and effluvia constantly floating about in the city atmosphere, and the miasma not unfrequent in the rural plains and valleys, the sea air is impregnated with a slight proportion of saline matters-common salt, iodine, bromine, and some others. Now, may not these act chemically on the system? And hence, probably, the renewed and increased appetite, the improved condition of the secretions, all essential in a state of perfect health. But a sea voyage is monotonous? Not at all-especially not to the invalid. It may be monotonous to a fox-hunter, to the owner of bullocks, to the cavalry officer, to the view-hunter, ever on the wing, flitting about for novelty; but to the invalid, indisposed to much bodily exertion, inclined, or obliged to live by rule, and to walk, talk, and move by square and measure, where can there be such a place as a snug vessel, where the meals, the watches, the deck scrubbings, and every sort of work and occupation is regulated by the strictest regard to time? To the invalid, who, after one meal, spends half the interval in thinking about and anticipating the next, what so delightful as dinner served up to a very minute, and cookery, too, though simple, yet of the very best description of its kind? A roasted potato never tasted anywhere so well as on board a ship, perhaps the master-work of some jet black and shining-faced negro, born with an instinct for cooking yams! And what can be more palatable than pea-soup -the boast of all cabin-boys? Then there is a novelty about all naval operations, which months of keen observation cannot fully satiate. The evolutions on deck afford a never-failing source of investigation; the sails, and ropes, and yards, and pulleys, and gay ensigns and pendants; the human population-from the captain down to the black cook and the urchin cabin-boy, with all their peculiar actions, sayings, and looks-afford exhaustless studies to the inquisitive novice. Then the economy of the cabin-its furnishings, lockers, berths, have all to be scrutinised-its storm-windows, lights, fireplaces, mirrors-all so different from anything on shore; and when this is exhausted, an exploration of the forecastle, the hold, and every corner and cranny of your temporary prison-house, will all tend to supplement your enjoyments. fields, the houses and crowds of bustling citizens, with the consciousness of renewed health and vigour, are all circumstances so pleasing to the invalid, that he will look back on his ship with love and thankfulness. GENEROSITY OF AUTHORS. THE sight of a learned man in want made even the assist 'Yet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall, In A ship has been called a prison; but where is thought so free and expansive as when looking around you from the deck in some calm and glowing evening, or in the still hour of mid-day? It is true your actual sphere of vision is circumscribed; for looking on the level sea from a ship's deck, your circle does not embrace above two or three miles in extent; yet how vast and bound- Gray, in one of his letters, written in 1761, says that less a flight into infinite space does not fancy suggest Mr Benjamin Stillingfleet, the writer on natural history to your mind, and what calm and elevating trains of and agriculture, lives in a garret in the winter, that thought may you not pursue, as hours on hours glide he may support some near relations who depend upon on unheeded? But the view is monotonous, it is again him. He is always employed, always cheerful, and is affirmed, and unvarying in its elements; for there is an honest worthy man.' Voltaire was ever happy to nothing but the same sea and sky, the one touching, or appearing to terminate, in the other. But so it is in talent struggling with difficulty. persons in distress, especially young persons of The granddaughter your country-house, in the middle of that flat plain, or even in your ornamental cottage, placed in the most tute of money and friends, attracted the sympathy of of the great dramatic poet Peter Corneille, being destipicturesque situation. All these become monotonous Voltaire, who supported her for three years; and having to the dull eye or the unidea'd mind. But at sea, have by that time finished her education, he married her to a you not all the varieties, as well as on shore, of cloud and sunshine of glorious sunrise and splendid sunset? portion, but he wrote, and published by subscription, for gentleman. Voltaire not only gave her a marriageHave you not the calm-the breeze grateful as a cool- her benefit, a commentary on the works of her celebrated ing breath, and as an essential sweller of your sails-grandfather, whereby she obtained in a short time fifty the stiff breeze curling the green swelling waves into thousand livres. The king of France subscribed eight white foam, and the storm raising sky and ocean into thousand livres, and some foreign princes followed his awful sublimity? People say you cannot read at sea example: the Duke de Choiseul, the Duchess de Gramor write much; but this is a mistake. Where are mont, and Madame de Pompadour, subscribed considerthere greater letter-scribblers, journal-writers, or even able sums. M. De la Barde, the king's banker, took book-makers, than sailors? But for an invalid much several copies, and greatly increased the sale of the work reading or writing is not necessary, rather injurious. by his zeal in promoting the benevolent intentions of Let him divert his mind with pleasing variety, calm Voltaire. To an unfortunate bookseller at Colmar, whose musings, and easy observation. The great deep, far affairs were much deranged, Voltaire made a present of from any shore, does not indeed present many ani- his Annals of the Empire,' and also lent five thousand mated objects. It is singularly destitute of vegeta- livres. Two brothers, respectable citizens of Geneva, tion, and of the larger kinds of animated life; but the having invited him to print his productions there, he ocean waters, even at such remote distances from land, complied, and made a present of his works to them in the still swarm with minute beings-the shining clios, the sailing phasalias, and innumerable animalcules, that will display themselves before the microscopic lens. Then, too, may the sailor invalid become an astronomer watch the stars, the moon, and the satellites, and learn how these all serve to guide the mariner's track so surely through the vast ocean. The daily reckoning and ship's progress, the taking of the sun's altitude, the approach to land, indicated by the floating sea-weeds and the white-winged sea-birds, that joyfully take their flights around-all these are sources of gentle and salutary excitement. The very stepping on shore, feeling again the tread of earth, seeing the trees and green same handsome manner as he had done to the bookseller at Colmar. Shenstone was one day walking through his romantic retreat, in company with his Delia (Miss Wilmot), when a rather unpleasant intruder rushed out of a thicket, and presenting a pistol to his breast, demanded his money. Delia fainted, while Shenstone quietly surrendered his purse, anxious to see the back of the man as quickly as possible. The robber seized the money, threw his pistol into the water, and immediately decamped. Shenstone ordered his footboy to pursue him at a distance, and observe whither he went. In a short time the lad returned, and informed his master that, having traced the man to his home, he peeped through the keyhole of the door, and saw him throw the purse to his wife, and then taking up two of his poor children, one on each knee, he said to them he had ruined his soul to keep them from starving, and immediately burst into a flood of tears. Having learned that he was a labourer, reputed honest and industrious, but oppressed by want and a large family, Shenstone went to his house, when the man, kneeling down at his feet, implored mercy. The poet not only forgave him, but provided him with employment as long as he lived. When Lord Byron resided in the Albany, Piccadilly, a young lady, an unsuccessful poetess, who was friendless, and involved in difficulties through the misfortunes of her family, whose distressed state deeply preyed upon her mind, resolved, on the plea of authorship, to introduce herself to Byron, and solicit his subscription to her poems. From a perusal of his works, she concluded that he was of an amiable disposition, and much misunderstood by the world. His kind reception of her fully confirmed her opinion; for having simply stated her motive for coming to him, he in the most delicate manner prevented her from dwelling on any painful troubles, by immediately beginning some general conversation; in the course of which he wrote a draft, which he folded up and presented to her as his subscription. She did not of course look at the paper while in his presence, as his conversation was too delightful to be relinquished for a moment; but on her leaving him, she inspected it, when to her joy she found it was a draft on his banker for fifty pounds. Roscoe humanely devoted the profits of his amusing 'Memoir of Richard Roberts' to the use of that singular, helpless, and half-witted person, well known in Liverpool from the extraordinary number of languages which he could read, self-taught. After the publication of Roscoe's work, the poor, and, till then, dirtily-clad linguist, might be seen properly clothed, with his portable library stuffed, as in former times, between his shirt and his skin, for he still disdained a fixed abode. MINES OF NATURAL MANURE. The Gardeners' Chronicle and Agricultural Gazette' announces the important fact, that beds of fossil phosphates -the most fertilising of manures-have been discovered in Surrey, along the lower edge of the chalk formation. Liebig has already predicted their existence in the following words: In the remains of an extinct animal world, England is to find the means of increasing her wealth in agricultural produce, as she has already found the great support of her manufacturing industry in fossil fuel.' The fulfilment of this prophecy is due to the exertions and researches of Mr J. M. Paine of Farnham. That gentleman having noticed that a certain portion of his estate, remarkable for the green tint of the soil, was exceedingly prolific, sent some of the earth to a chemist for analysation without any conclusive result, but afterwards forwarded to Professor Way a box of marl dug out of a pit sunk in the same sort of soil. This proved, on analysis, to possess great fertilising power, which was very materially increased when washed and selected. Out of the richest vein of one of the pits (says Mr Paine) we dug a mass weighing 32 lbs. This was thoroughly washed, and from it we obtained 14 lbs., or about 44 per cent., of clean hard fossil-like lumps of every size. The fossils contain sensible quantities of fluorine, but its proportion was not ascertained. Mr Paine has no doubt that similar strata of rich manure exist in equal, if not greater abundance in other parts of England. The vast importance of his discovery to agriculture need not be pointed out.-Newspaper paragraph. THE FIRST OF MAY. In Scotland, the observance of May morning seldom extends further than the bathing of faces in the tempting dew; but we learn that the young girls of a boarding-school in Dingwall, for the first time in the north, or at least in that ancient burgh, crowned their May-queen, danced round their Maypole, and observed the occasion with all due respect; the girls singing 'Flora, save the queen of May,' and kneeling by turns to present an offering of flowers, each emblematic of some tender wish. THE FAR FAR EAST. I feel as if some former birth (as Indian sages tell) now, And a new day-spring rise for me upon the desert wave! OUR WONDROUS ATMOSPHERE. L. R. The atmosphere rises above us with its cathedral dome, arching towards the heaven, of which it is the most familiar synonyme and symbol. It floats around us like that grand object which the apostle John saw in his vision- a sea of glass like unto crystal.' So massive is it, that when it begins to stir, it tosses about great ships like playthings, and sweeps cities and forests, like mobile, that we have lived years in it before we can be snowflakes, to destruction before it. And yet it is so persuaded that it exists at all, and the great bulk of mankind never realise the truth that they are bathed in an ocean of air. Its weight is so enormous, that iron shivers impunity, and the tiniest insect waves it aside with its before it like glass; yet a soap-bell sails through it with wing. It ministers lavishly to all the senses. We touch it not, but it touches us. back colour to the pale face of the invalid; its cool west Its warm south winds bring winds refresh the fevered brow, and make the blood mantle in our cheeks; even its north blasts brace into new vigour the hardened children of our rugged clime. The eye is indebted to it for all the magnificence of sunrise, the full brightness of mid-day, the chastened radiance of the gloaming, and the clouds that cradle near the setting-sun. But for it the rainbow would want its triumphal arch,' and the winds would not send their fleecy messengers on errands round the heavens. The cold ether would not shed its snow-feathers on the earth, nor would drops of dew gather on the flowers. The kindly rain would never fall, nor hail-storm nor fog diversify the face of the sky. Our naked globe would turn its tanned and unshadowed forehead to the sun, and one dreary, monotonous blaze of light and heat dazzle and burn up all things. Were there and, without warning, plunge the earth in darkness. But no atmosphere, the evening sun would in a moment set, the air keeps in her hand a sheaf of his rays, and lets them slip but slowly through her fingers; so that the shadows of evening gather by degrees, and the flowers have time to of rest, and to nestle to repose. In the morning, the garish bow their heads; and each creature space to find a place sun would at one bound burst from the bosom of night, and blaze above the horizon; but the air watches for his coming, and sends at first but one little ray to announce and so gently draws aside the curtain of night, and slowly his approach, and then another, and by and by a handful, lets the light fall on the face of the sleeping earth, till her eyelids open, and, like man, she goeth forth again to her labour till the evening.-Quarterly Review. Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Miller Street, Glasgow: W. 8. ORE, 147 Strand, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, Edinburgh. 1 EDINBURGH CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR No. 232. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, JUNE 10, 1848. THE SKERRYVORE LIGHTHOUSE. Is the Atlantic Ocean, between the Western Islands of Scotland and the north of Ireland, there is a cluster of rocks, the tops of which only appear above high water, and which were formerly the cause of much perdition of shipping, as they lay in the track of vessels making for the Irish Channel and the Firth of Clyde, and there was no means of warning the mariner against their treacherous neighbourhood. The centre of the cluster, from which the whole took their name, was the Skerryvore [that is, Great Rock], which at high water presented a few masses of small superficies, rising about five feet above the waves, so that in stormy weather it was swept over by every surge. On this rock, twelve miles from the island of Tirree, which is the nearest land, it was resolved in 1834 to erect a lighthouse, and the duty of conducting the operations was confided to Mr Alan Stevenson, son and successor of the respect able engineer by whom the Bell-Rock Lighthouse had been erected about twenty-five years before. We have now Mr Stevenson's account of the work in an elegant and elaborate quarto, which can scarcely be more interesting to the members of his profession for its technical and scientific details, than to the general public for its narrative of an unusual class of dangers and difficulties cheerfully encountered in the cause of humanity, and overcome through the aid of carefulness and skill. PRICE 1d. ably the workable ground. One of these terminated in a narrow spherical chamber, worked smooth by the tumbling of a few boulders, and having an aperture at top, through which came occasionally a jet of water twenty feet high, white as snow, and during sunshine, clothed in the hues of the rainbow. So smoothened was the whole exterior of the rock by the dash of the sea, that at one of their early landings the foreman of the masons described it as like climbing up the outside of a bottle.' The second step was to plant a colony of works at Hynish, in the south angle of the island of Tirree. Here a piece of ground, fifteen acres in extent, was feued from the Duke of Argyle for the permanent establishment connected with the intended lighthouse, while thirty acres more were leased for the purposes of a temporary workyard. For our works,' says Mr Stevenson, 'craftsmen of every sort were to be transported, houses were to be built for their reception, provisions and fuel were to be imported, and tools and implements of every kind were to be made.' A steam tender was also to be built for communications between the works and the rock. These operations were the work of 1836 and 1837, during which time the quarrying of materials was also going on at Hynish, where, however, they ultimately found the stone to be unsuitable for the proposed tower. It was not till the beginning of the summer of 1838 that they were ready to effect any operations on the rock itself. The first duty there was to rear a wooden barrack for the accommodation of the men; a work of the most critical nature, on account of the violence of the sea-drift, to which it must necessarily be exposed. In providing,' says Mr Stevenson, the means of efficiently carrying on so many complicated operations in a situation so difficult and remote, it is impossible, even with the greatest foresight, to avoid omissions; while delay of a most injurious kind may result from very trivial wants. Even the omission of a handful of sand, or a piece of clay, might effectually stop for a season the progress of plans in the maturing of which hundreds of pounds had been expended. Accordingly, although I had bestowed all the forethought which I could give to the various details of the preparation for the season (of which I found it absolutely indispensable to be personally aware, even to the extent of the cooking dishes), new wants were continually The first step was a survey of the rock, in itself a springing up, and new delays occasioned, so that it was most difficult task, which Mr Stevenson did not complete not until the evening of the 23d of June that I could till the summer of 1835. He had then to take sound-embark at Tobermory in the Pharos Lighthouse Tender, ings all round, for the sake of the vessels which were to be employed in carrying on the works. He had also to examine the rock geologically, in order to ascertain its soundness, and its capability of being worked for a foundation. It proved to be a gneiss of excessive hardness, and yet perforated in sea-caves which narrowed consider Most persons in common life must be quite unprepared to hear of the peculiar steps necessary to be taken in order to rear a pharos upon a rock in such a situation. First, it is difficult in any state of the tide to land upon the rock. It affords no shelter, no room for working; it is twelve miles from land, and even that land is only an inhospitable wilderness, remote by two or three days' sail from any place where the conveniences of civilised life can be commanded, or any mechanical operations are conducted. These circumstances rendered necessary such a series of preliminary arrangements as only could be accomplished by a liberal outlay of money, and an exertion of foresight and patience equally extraordinary. On reviewing the work after it was perfected, one is at a loss whether most to admire the resources which a wealthy state can bring to bear on such objects, or the heroism and fortitude of the men who devoted themselves to the business. commanded by Mr Thomas Macurich, with all the requisites on board for commencing the season's operations.' It was not till five days after that Mr Stevenson could effect a landing on the rock, where he spent an afternoon in marking off sites for the proposed barrack, the smith's forge, and other articles required for the work. He had then to return to Greenock for the re- closed; and my elevation above the rock itself decreased mainder of the necessary implements, and he did not the apparent elevation of the rugged ledge so much, land again on Skerryvore till the 7th of August. The that it seemed to me as if each successive wave must disembarkation of various heavy articles, and the carry-sweep right over its surface, and carry us all before it ing of them over the slippery rocks, were operations of extreme difficulty, attended by considerable discomfort; yet, adds Mr Stevenson, it invariably happened that, in spite of all the fatigue and privation attending a day's work on this unsheltered rock, the landsmen were for the most part sorry to exchange it for the ship, which rolled so heavily, as to leave few free from sea-sickness, and to deprive most of the workmen of sleep at night, even after their unusually great exertions during the day.' into the wide Atlantic. So loud was the roaring of the the clamour of the waves, that I could not hear the wind among the timbers of the barrack, and so hoarse voices of the men below; and I with difficulty occasionally caught the sharp tinkle of the hammers on the rock. When I looked back upon the works of the season, upon our difficulties, and, I must add, dangers, and the small result of our exertions-for we had only been 165 hours at work on the rock between the 7th August and the 11th September-I could see that in good truth there were many difficulties before us; but there was also much cause for thankfulness in the many escapes we had made.' Mr Stevenson left the works with a pleasing augury from what had already been effected; but to his great distress, a storm which occurred early in November carried away all but a fragment of the strong work which they had erected. The smith's forge at the same time disappeared, and the anvil was carried eight yards from its proper situation. So unexpected was the fate of the pyramid, that it was concluded that some portion of a wreck had dashed against it, and thus assisted in its destruction. Another evil of this time was the failure of the quarries at Hynish, and the necessity of bringing stones from a superior quarry at Ross, in the Isle of Mull. The stone thus obtained was a granite of great durability, nearly as hard and dense as the gneiss of Tirree. It gives a striking idea of the difficulties of the whole undertaking, that the blocks could not be directly trans. ported from Mull to Skerry vore; they had to be landed at Hynish, and re-shipped for the rock at certain happy junctures, when the weather was such as to permit landing of them at Skerryvore. While remaining at Hynish, they were fully dressed with all requisite exactness, and laid down course after course on a flat surface, so as to ascertain their suitableness for taking their designed places in the building. Among the preliminaries at Hynish hitherto not spoken of, was the construction of a low-water pier for the embarkation of the materials. While proceeding with the landing of materials, the party suffered a gale on the night of the 8th of August, and with great difficulty got through the environing shoals to their retreat at Hynish. A more anxious night I never spent; there being upwards of thirty people on board, with the prospect, during several hours, of striking every minute.' Returning four days after, they had six days of good weather, which enabled them to fasten up the strong pyramid of beams 44 feet high, on a base about 34 feet in diameter, on which the barrack was to be perched. While thus engaged, 'the economy of our life was somewhat singular. We landed at four o'clock every morning to commence work, and generally breakfasted on the rock at eight, at which time the boat arrived with large pitchers of tea, bags of biscuit, and canteens of beef. Breakfast was despatched in half an hour, and work resumed, till about two o'clock, which hour brought the dinner, differing in its materials from breakfast only in the addition of a thick pottage of vegetables, and the substitution of beer for tea. Dinner occupied no longer time than breakfast, and, like it, was succeeded by another season of toil, which lasted until eight, and sometimes till nine o'clock, when it was so dark, that we could scarcely scramble to the boats, and were often glad to avail ourselves of all the assistance we could obtain from an occasional flash of a lantern, and from following the voices. Once on the deck of the little tender, and the boats hoisted in, the materials of breakfast were again produced under In the course of the working season of 1839 (a workthe name of supper; but the heaving of the vessel ing season at the rock lasted only from May till Sepdamped the animation which attended the meals on the tember), a second pyramid was formed on somewhat rock, and destroyed the appetite of the men, who, with securer principles, and the barrack fitted upon it. The few exceptions, were so little sea-worthy, as to prefer latter was a wooden box divided into three storeys, of messing on the rock even during rain, to facing the which the two lowest were penetrated by the beams of closeness of the forecastle. As I generally retired to the pyramid. The first served as a kitchen, the second the cabin to write up my notes, when that was prac- was divided into two cabins, one of which was for ticable, and to wait the arrival of my own refection, I Stevenson's use, the other for the foreman of the works; was sometimes considerably amused by the regularity the third storey was for the thirty men who were to be with which the men chose their mess-masters, and the engaged in the rearing of the lighthouse. While this desire which some displayed for the important duties of work was proceeding, the space for the foundation of carving and distributing the rations. Even the short the tower was in the course of being excavated-a work time that could be snatched from the half-hour's inter- of immense difficulty, owing to the hardness of the rock, val at dinner was generally devoted to a nap; and the and which was not completed till next summer. Dur amount of hard labour and long exposure to the sun, ing the season of 1839, they also prepared a sort of which could hardly be reckoned at less than sixteen wharf for the debarkation of the stores for the building. hours a-day, prevented much conversation over supper; It was done by blasting; and the mines were sprung yet in many the love of controversy is so deeply rooted, during high tide by a galvanic battery, to the great that I have often, from my small cabin, overheard the amazement and even terror of the native boatmen, who political topics of the day, with regard to church and were obviously much puzzled to trace the mysterious state, very gravely discussed on deck over a pipe of link which connected the drawing of a string, at the dis- || tobacco.' Bad weather recurring, they were obliged to tance of about one hundred yards, with a low murmur run for shelter once more, and they did not re-land on like distant thunder, and a sudden commotion of water the rock till the 31st of August, and only then for a few in the landing-place, which boiled up, and then belched hours. They had only occasional landings for nearly a forth a dense cloud of smoke; nor was their surprise fortnight afterwards, and at last they were obliged to lessened when they saw that it had been followed by quit work for the season on the 11th of September, a large rent in the rock. During August they had a leaving things in a less finished state than was desir- severe storm, which destroyed their moorings, and carable. Before leaving the rock,' says Mr Stevenson, I ried off the smith's forge; but on the whole, this was a climbed to the top of the pyramid, from which I now, more successful season than the last; and when they for the first time, got a bird's-eye view of the various returned in April 1840, everything was found in good shoals which the stormy state of the sea so well dis-order, even to the biscuit which they had left in the |