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." That Mr. Stevenson was correct in offering this opinion, is proved by the fact that not a single vessel has been lost upon that dreaded rock since the completion of the lighthouse in 1811-a period of upwards of half a century! The reef which was once a terror to mariners is now, happily, 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

"in sight of its everchanging white and red signal lights they are in safety: though the sky be moonless and starless, they know that in the Bell Rock they have a constant leading star, and that trusting to its guidance in the darkness, they can run for the Firths of Forth or Tay when daylight dawns. Sir Walter Scott, on his visit to the Bell Rock 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 timorous 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; the extension of its lighthouse system is the safeguard of its navy and its commerce; and the extinction of the hope-inspiring beacon-lights on our coasts were such an idea conceivablewould 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, of which there is a view on the next page, was finished in the year 1610, and, revolutionised by modern improvements, 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