across the broad waters of the Atlantic, to double the Cape of Storms, or even to circumnavigate the globe, he finds on nearing land that unless he can trust the guidance of his vessel to one of local knowledge, an immense amount of additional exertion is required on his part, and that although he may have weathered the most terrific storms where he had plenty of sea-room, yet now he is hemmed in on all sides with threatening dangers. In fact, he has to exercise great care and vigilance, and, actually feeling his way with the lead, can only proceed very slowly and cautiously in order that his long and hitherto successful voyage may not end disastrously, by the ship ending out her voyage on a sand bank, or dashing herself against a hidden rock, in the very sight of the haven where she would be.

Of course, as we have said, our readers know all this, but our motive in recalling it to their minds is to bring them to consider the subject before us as we regard it, for it certainly is not time wasted to give some consideration to this important matter in all its bearings.

It can easily be imagined how, as civilization and navigation have advanced in the world, different nations found out how much mariners could be assisted by guiding marks set up on the shore. The sailors even then made good use of the trees and conspicuous buildings on land, and of other distinctive features of the coast, but they wanted something more reliable, more readily seen, and above all they wanted lights at night, to enable them to navigate their vessels safely through the surrounding dangers, and to indicate the neighbourhood to them. So gradually our coast-line began to be dotted with "beacon-lights, marks, and signs of the sea," and as the world progressed, these marks became more and more general, and each day to the present time new lights, new beacons, new buoys, are being placed on nearly all the sea-coasts of the world for the benefit of those who go down to the sea in ships.

Such facts as we possess on this most interesting subject as affecting our own country we propose to string together under the comprehensive title of "our sea-marks," and in sundry articles to talk about lighthouses, light-ships, beacons, buoys, and fog signals.

Before entering directly upon the first of our divisions, viz., lighthouses, a few words concerning the authorities who are charged with the establishment and maintenance of our sea-marks may not be altogether inappropriate.

To ask any of our readers if they know of the existence in England of such a body as the Corporation of the Trinity House is quite unnecessary. Of course they do. For ourselves, we must say we have long rejoiced in this fine old Corporation, especially so when we consider that it is an institution founded centuries back; one which has safely kept its course down to our own days with the quaint old ships of its coat of arms, having lived through all kinds of weather of good and evil report, having throughout fulfilled its mission admirably, extending its usefulness as civilization advanced, and now holding up its venerable head in our sight a credit to the country, honoured and respected by all who are brought into contact with it.

It is this Corporation that is charged with marking the shores of England with its lights, buoys, and beacons, and no small meed of praise is due to the Elder Brethren who at different times have constituted the Board of the Trinity House, for having gradually developed the system of sea-marks from the first rude suggestions of necessity, to the elaborate construction it has become in these later days The Trinity House service to the country is as extensive as it is efficiently rendered. The smart, serviceable yachts employed by that Board may be observed at all times and places round the coast, relieving light-ships and lighthouses on rock foundations, placing buoys, surveying sands, removing wrecks out of the track of shipping, and performing many other useful duties about our shores.

The Commissioners of Northern Lights at Edinburgh, and the Commissioners of Irish Lights at Dublin, are respectively charged with, and as efficiently perform the same duties on the Scotch and Irish coasts, subject to a discretionary supervision by the Trinity House; and the joint efforts of the three Boards contrive so to illuminate our shores in the darkness of night, and to indicate the whereabouts of hidden dangers by day, that the nation at large has real cause to be thankful for their services.

Let us now turn to the lighthouses of Great Britain. In the United Kingdom there are upwards of four hundred lighthouses, of all sorts and sizes. Many of them are small and insignificant, meant to serve merely local purposes, such as to indicate the state of the tide, or to inform ships if the bar of a harbour can be safely passed, or to light fishermen from sea to their homes when night comes on, etc. But the lighthouses we would speak of, those splendid buildings with which most of us are familiar, and which are conspicuous objects on the projecting headlands, or which raise their heads in solitary pride in the midst of furious waves, always threatening and frequently breaking over those rocks on which the towers stand. These lights might be considered national, and the others merely local; the former are meant to serve all ships of all lands, the latter are intended more for the benefit of individuals, and are maintained mostly from private

sources.

Did space permit our readers might have some remarkable accounts of the building of some of these lighthouses. On seeing one of them standing boldly up in the sea, its waves breaking over it, one involuntarily exclaims, "How could that structure ever have been placed there?" And it is a question too that may well be asked. The story of the Eddystone is familiar to most of us. How its architect, Winstanley, the mercer, first raised a wooden tower, and had such confidence in its strength, that he expressed the desire to be in it in the fiercest storm that was ever known. And it chanced that he went to the lighthouse one day to see some repairs that were going on, and such a storm as he wished for did come to test the strength of his work. But, alas! the furious sea was too much for it: the waves swept away the tower, with Winstanley himself in it, and left the rock to itself! Then they might remember John Rudyard's subsequent

tower, which lasted but forty-seven years, and was then destroyed by fire; but Smeaton's stone lighthouse, built in 1759, stands as firm now as then, after the lapse of more than a century. The Bell and Skerryvore rocks, in Scotland, the Bishop rock, off Scilly, the Smails rock, in the Bristol Channel, the Hanois rock, off Guernsey, and lastly the Wolf rock, off the Land's End, are perhaps the most remarkable structures of this kind.

The difficulties which are encountered in the work of building such lighthouses on isolated rocks can hardly be imagined, some of them many miles from land. The work of construction has to be done when only the tide permits, and as most of these rocks are covered or nearly covered and uncovered alternately by the tide, detached portions have to be taken out only in fine weather, and only at low water, but very little can be done at a time. Besides this, the work has to be of a specially excellent and strong character to fit it for its exposed position. The workmen have to undergo great risk, in some cases having to live in a floating barrack near the rock, always working in cork jackets, always on the look out for the sea getting up, and generally having to be hauled off the rock through huge breaking waves. The lighthouses on land are not more remarkable than many other buildings for difficulty of construction, except perhaps for a certain solidity and compactness which do not characterise many of our modern structures; but a word or two concerning houses built upon sand will not be out of place in the consideration of this subject. On the Maplin sands, at the mouth of the Thames, are erected some pile lighthouses, the lower parts of which only consist of open framework. A pile lighthouse consists of nine wrought iron piles, with at screw at the bottom of each by which they are screwed into the sand. These piles are braced together above water and principally at their upper part, by cross braces of wood and iron, and on the top of the framework are the keepers' dwelling rooms, and above them the lantern itself. These pile lighthouses are most useful where no firmer foundation can be obtained than sand. Their stability has been well proved and they present no surface for the sea to work upon. keepers see below them " the sands and yeasty surges mix," and the surf harmlessly expending itself in foam and spray, but their house stands on its shifting bed as firmly indeed as if it were built on a rock! The general architecture of all lighthouses is much to be admired, the chief characteristic about them being their beautiful simplicity and their admirable fitness for the purpose which they are intended to fulfil.

The

Let us now turn our attention to the light shewn from these towers. Our space allows us to make only general observations, for were we to go into detail, our description would have to be constantly "continued in our next." The light most used at present is obtained from rapeseed oil, which, after many trials and experiments with numerous other sources of light, has been found to yield the cheapest and most reliable light. The electric light is in use at Dungeness, and a very splendid light it is. But at present this brilliant luminary

is in its infancy and is consequently rather capricious and wayward, and has the character of being a light not to be entirely relied on. However, subtle brains and pliant fingers are gradually developing its virtue, making it more manageable and serviceable for man's purposes, and we may yet hope that in time numerous such other vivid rays will dart their penetrating power over the sea from our British headlands. There has been much said about making gas useful for lighthouse illumination, and probably where it can be readily formed and conveniently used it may hereafter be tried, but neither the electric light nor gas could be made serviceable for rock stations where space is so exceedingly limited, the apparatus for the production of either of these lights requiring much room. A great many wild schemes have been suggested for lighting lighthouses, such as gas pipes under the sea, electric wires all round the coast connecting every lighthouse, magnesium, lime light, Petroleum, paraffin, and a host of other proposals, and the Authorities, with the assistance of scientific men, have considered all these schemes, and in many cases have applied practical tests. But they have all been found wanting in some important particular, and have consequently not been adopted.

It is not only that the most powerful light is required for lighthouse illumination, but in addition to this every means must be taken for utilising every particle of light even to the fullest extent. There are two modes in use for this purpose, one by means of reflectors, and hence called the Catoptric system, and the other by glass lenses, called the Dioptric. For a good catoptric sea light twenty or thirty argand lamps in a plane are employed, each with a reflector behind it. It is also necessary that the reflector be of perfect form or mathematical figure, and the lamp be placed exactly in focus, so that the reflector gathers up all the light and throws it out seaward. This is a very good system, and worked well for a long period, until the glass lens appeared and was found so excellent.

In the Dioptric system one light only is used:-a very powerful flame produced by three or four concentric wicks one inside the other, all of them being constantly deluged with oil. About three feet from the flame is fixed a central band of glass, called the lenticular belt, which magnifies the light considerably, and above and below are arranged a number of prisms to intercept the rays from being lost outside the tower, and these they bend so that their light is directed on to the sea horizon. Optical science has gone a long way in this department, and has reached a state of perfection in our Dioptric lighting apparatus that forms a very striking contrast with the old coal fires which were in such general use about sixty or seventy years ago. It is surprising how accurately the lights can now be defined. Perhaps it is required that a light must be shaded with red on one side of a certain bearing, and that on the other it be bright. The cutting of the light is then so sharp that it is said to be possible if a ship were on the line, to see the red light on one side and the white light on the other, or as an old Trinity lights-man said to the writer, "You could a'most see red with one eye and white with t'other, Sir, if you got on the line."

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Another remarkable feature of lighthouse illumination is the variety of lights there are fixed and flashing, revolving and intermittent, single and double lights, and these are further varied by colours of red, white, or green, so that perfect distinction is attained for every light. At the Wolf Rock for instance something rather novel has just been introduced in the shape of an alternately red and white revolving light, and all who see it, speak of it as a very splendid light.

The attendants at these lighthouses must not be passed by without some little notice. Many a seaman as he hails the friendly light shining across the dark waters has good reason to bless the silent watchman who is keeping the light well trimmed and burning, and to the honour of the light service generally be it said, that it is a very, very rare occurrence for a light keeper to neglect his duty. Even with the electric light which requires much unremitting attention one instance only in several years has occurred of negligence on the part of the keeper. There is a healthy esprit de corps in the service which makes the men take a hearty interest in their work, and they light up punctually at sunset, maintain a good light all night,-dividing the night into watches, two or three according to the length of the dark period, and keep everything scrupulously clean and tidy. Any visitor, official or otherwise, will always find a lighthouse establishment in first-rate order. The rock stations are rather lonely for the men. But at these stations there are always three together, and each has a relief of a month ashore four times a year. Some men prefer a lonely rock lighthouse to any other, while those who do not like it have only to serve a temporary apprenticeship at one of these stations, and by good conduct may soon obtain a transfer to a more pleasant lighthouse, of which latter kind there are many about our seaside neighbourhood. Life in a lighthouse is quiet and without excitement, the keepers are well paid, and as a rule thoughtful and intelligent men. The little cottages attached to lighthouses on land are generally very comfortably furnished, partly by the authorities and partly by the keepers themselves, so that after some little changing about in the early part of his service a light keeper may live happily and peacefully with his wife and family

"Far from the mad'ning crowd's ignoble strife;"

and conscientiously performing his useful and humane duty "Along the cool sequestered vale of life,

May keep the noiseless tenour of his way."

The expense of maintaining these lights at present falls on the shipping which frequent our ports, and it has been recently debated in the House of Commons, and much talked about among nautical folks, whether the cost should not be thrown upon the country so as to relieve shipowners from all payment on account of lights. With this question we have no concern at present, but another which seems to have been agitated at the same time, calling in question the present