of 1756, Smeaton first visited the Eddystone rock, experiencing, as the other engineers had done, the extreme difficulty of gaining a landing, and of remaining long enough on the spot, to carry out his observations. He fixed a vessel at about a quarter of a mile from the rock, to lodge the workmen and their tools, that they might take every favourable opportunity of putting out their boat and carrying their materials to the rock, instead of going as far as from Plymouth. Smeaton built his light-house entirely of stone. By unremitting exertions on his part and that of his workmen, the whole building, with its lantern, cupola, and gilt ball, and lightning conductor, was set up on the 16th of October, 1759.

Mr. Smeaton slept in the light-house, and described its appearance in a storm, when an enormous wave striking against the rock, would sometimes bury it for a moment in a white column of spray. It tried the courage of the poor light-keepers at first very severely, when they found a raging sea run over their habitation, and "the house shook like a tree.'

وو

Two years afterwards a tempest of unusual violence occurred, which caused great loss of life and property at Plymouth. One of Mr. Smeaton's friends felt the utmost anxiety for the fate of the light-house. Several times in the day he turned his telescope towards the rock, but all in the distance was so black and hazy, that nothing could be seen. But the next morning, early, he had the great joy to see that the gilded ball had escaped the fury of such a storm as man had scarce known before, and he had the gratifying assurance that the house built to give safety to others, was a safe dwelling for its inhabitants. John Smeaton was a man of great moral worth. He had ample opportunities to amass wealth, but that was not his first object. The Empress of Russia tried to tempt him to devote his services to her country, but he refused her splendid offer of reward. In 1791, he completed the pier and harbour at Ramsgate, thus making a secure shelter for vessels, which was before much needed. He died in the following year.

The rocky coast of Scotland, extending in circuit about two thousand miles, is perhaps the most dangerous of any in Europe. Before the erection of lighthouses, it was frequently strewed with wrecks. The most celebrated light-house in Scotland is that situated on the BELL ROCK, at the entrance of the arm of the sea, called the Frith of Forth. This rock lies lower than any other on which a light-house has been built. In fine weather the sea passed smoothly over it, and the sailor had no warning of the danger.

Smeaton had shown what could be done, and in 1808, the

foundation stone of a light-house was laid on the Bell Rock, Mr. Stevenson being the engineer. The work could at first be only done at low tide. When it was nearly completed, it was visited by Mrs. Dickson, the only daughter and survivor of Mr. Smeaton. The vessel which conveyed this lady to the rock had been named the 66 Smeaton," from respect to the memory of that great man. Truly may it be said of his successful daring, in the words of Shakespere,

"How far this little candle shows its beams!

So shines a good deed in a naughty world."

On the 1st of February, 1811, the light of the Bell Rock began to shine. The light was from oil, with reflectors, and, to distinguish it from others on the coast, it was made to revolve, exhibiting in turn a bright light of the usual kind, and a red-coloured light. The coloured light is found to be less powerful than the usual bright light. During the continuance of foggy or snowy weather, a bell is tolled by machinery, night and day, at intervals of half a minute. The red light is produced by placing plates of red glass before the reflectors. The nearest town to the Bell Rock is Aberbrottock in Forfarshire, about eleven miles distant. A vessel, called "The Pharos" from the Greek name of a watch-tower, at Alexandria, is stationed here, to supply the light-house. This vessel goes off to the rock every fortnight to relieve the light-keepers, and to supply fuel and provisions. There are four keepers, three of whom are always on duty, while one is ashore. Mr. Stevenson reported that the lightkeepers were, upon the whole, pleased with their situation, and talked in a feeling manner of the hardships of those who suffered at sea during the storms of winter. The light-houses of this country are now lighted by sperm oil. Many experiments have been made, and much patience exercised in seeking to discover how their light can be best contrived both to guide those without, and to be safe for those within them. Dr. Faraday has contrived means of ventilating the lamps, which are said to render the light-house a much more wholesome place of abode. Thus may men, in various ways, according to the Almighty's will, be benefactors to their race, if, like Smeaton, they make it their aim to execute the tasks entrusted to them, in the most skilful and perfect manner.

When Sir Walter Scott visited the Bell Rock Light-house, he left these lines written in the album, as if spoken by the light :

Far in the bosom of the deep

O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep,
A ruddy gem of changeful light,
Bound in the dusky brow of night.
The seaman bids my lustre hail,

And scorns to strike his timorous sail.

E. C.

HYMN,

FATHER of all! thy matchless power
All things created prove;

But here we meet, and raise our hymn
To celebrate thy love.

We trace it in thy glorious sky,
Where worlds unnumbered roll,
In every ray whose cheering power,
Revives and warms the whole.

It meets us in the little flower,
That lifts its modest eye,
To draw its beauty and its strength
From out the sunny sky.

Nor less we mark thy boundless love,
Father, in clouds and shade;
If always in the sun's warm beam
The fairest flower would fade.

Father divine! we will not fear
If sorrows round us press,
Thy well-beloved Son endured
Grief in its bitterness.

In love he lived, in love he died,
For him thy name we praise,
Oh! may his spirit fill our hearts
While here our hymn we raise.

Nor here alone; thine aid impart,
That all our lives may be
Guided, by love's pure influence,
To draw us nearer thee!

C. M. A. COUPER.

God has shown his power in the stars and in the firmament; in the aged hills and the perpetual streams; but he has shown it as much in the minds of the greatest of human beings! Homer and Virgil, Milton and Locke, and Bacon and Newton, are as great as the hills and streams, and will endure till heaven and earth shall pass away, and the whole fabric of nature is shaken into dissolution and eternal ashes.-SYDNEY SMITH.

No closer doth the shadow follow the body, than the revenge of self-accusation follows sin. Walk eastward in the morning, the shadow starts behind thee: soon after it is upon thy left side: at noon it is under thy feet: lie down, it coucheth under thee; towards even it leaps before thee. Thou can'st not be rid of it, while thou hast a body and the sun light. No more can thy soul quit the conscience of evil.-BISHOP HALL.

A NARROW ESCAPE.

In this little publication are many kinds of papers, adapted more or less to the various ages of its numerous readers. The aged, those in middle life, the youthful and the child, may all find food wherewith to refresh the mind after some busy toil in domestic life, or stimulate it to suggestive creation, or to better management of heart and life; but this particular paper is intended for the youngest of all, for the little children of the many families who give a welcome to the Magazine. Come, then, little three, four, five, and six year old ones, and listen. Some of you, I daresay, have been at school two years already, blessed with kind good parents who know the inestimable blessing of a good education, and you may be able to read with delight to yourselves; but more, I expect, though they may have been at school too for a longer or shorter time, will have to ask mother, or brother, or sister, to read to them; but you are all impatient to know what is coming, so I hasten to tell you-that there was once a little boy, about six years old, or seven perhaps he might be, called George, who lived in a very large town, and near his home, which was somewhere on the outskirts of it, was a wide piece of waste ground, as is very common near great towns, -a most untidy spot, with numerous hollows here and there, old quarries probably, and into some of these heaps of rubbish and refuse were now often shot, to fill them up, in order to form a bottom ou which to build more houses or cottages. In another were a set of pig styes, where you might see fine fat porkers wallowing, and listen to their grunting, and be startled by large black dots darting amongst them so quickly, that it would only be by intently watching to catch the mysterious appearance again and again, that you would at last discover that they were rats, large black rats, sleek and fat as their companions, whose filthy food they evidently shared and enjoyed. And another hollow, the largest of all, held dirty water, forming a huge pond, whereon all the ducks in the neighbourhood were wont to swim, but the steep sides of which, more or less sloping, made it a dangerous play-place, and here little George, with his little playmate, his

younger brother, had received many warnings from their careful mother never to go. But little boys do dearly love the water, do dearly love to float little boats, and little chips, and bits of paper, and so, one day, this poor little boy, being sorely tempted, was overcome, and forgetful of all his dear mother's injunctions, he went to this forbidden pond. How long he had been there, or what he had been doing, I cannot tell you, but this I know, that as I was crossing the irregular waste ground, to visit a school in the town, coming in

sight of this large deep pit, I, all at once, saw a child in the water, with only its head and shoulders out, and one little hand held high up, vainly beating the air, or clutching as vainly the soil of the steep face of the bank off which it had fallen, whilst the younger little brother was on the top of the bank, stamping about and wringing his hands and crying most piteously. He was too young, at any rate too much frightened, to be sensible enough to run for help. A woman was just meeting me, but at the distance we were, and with her back to them, she knew nothing of what had happened, so pointing and calling out to her that there was a child in the water, I set off running in the greatest horror, lest he should vanish quite, and unless he lay perfectly still, which he was then doing, I felt certain he must, and nothing, probably, then could have saved poor little George from being drowned. But that was not to happen this time. I believe I shouted out, "lie still, lie still," checking myself, though, in that and almost in running, lest he should be roused to action. At last I reached the bank, and bending down over it, caught his hand and hauled him up; and I assure you it was as much as I could do, for he was a tall, large boy of his age. Poor little fellow, he trembled so that he could scarcely stand, neither for a minute or two could he speak, for the chattering of his teeth-it was a cold, frosty winter's day. However, in a little while he was able to tell me that he could walk home, and that his mother wouldn't beat him. I should think not; for though he had been very naughty in being disobedient, doing what his mother had told him not to do, besides setting such a bad example to his younger brother; yet, as he had fallen in, that was quite punishment enough, and such a fearful warning that he would never forget it as long as he lived. If ever after he were tempted to be disobedient, the slimy mud, and thick cold water of that deep pit, would come into his mind and cause a shudder, I am sure, and would keep him from going again astray, I think. But he was a brave little boy; at least I conclude that he must have been, for though he trembled and shook in every limb, and every tooth chattered, I do not remember that he cried at all, and as soon as he could he went home as fast as he could. And how very glad George must have felt that it was he himself who had tumbled in, and not his dear little brother, who, but for his leading him off, would, contentedly enough, have watched the pigs, looked out for the rats, to scream with delight if one appeared, run up and down the little hollows, or been a little horse to his brother on any level bit of the common. Oh, had the little one fallen in, how utterly miserable George would have been! He could have done nothing