THE EDDYSTONE LIGHTHOUSE.

EW places have been more fatal to ships than formerly were the Eddystone rocks.

They lie out to sea about fourteen miles south-west of Plymouth, and are thus in the line of traffic up and down the English Channel. Many a vessel when nearly home has been dashed to pieces on their jagged points, after weathering safely the Atlantic gales; and only dead bodies and floating pieces of mast and spar have come ashore to tell the tale.

An attempt was first made to build a lighthouse here in 1696. Mr. Winstanley, a gentleman of Essex, set the design on foot. The first summer was wholly spent in making twelve holes in the rock, and fastening twelve irons in them by which to hold the building; and the second went in making a solid pillar on which to set it. Sometimes the sea swept over the works, burying them many feet below the waves, and once the builder and his workmen were overtaken by a storm and left exposed under imperfect shelter for eight days, during which no boat could near them, and they were reduced to their last crust. At length, after four years' patient labour, the building was finished. Winstanley felt sure it would stand; but in November, 1703, his hopes were disappointed, and he himself buried in the ruin. He was superintending some repairs, when a storm

the most clever mechanicians in the country. Trained for the law, he had forsaken its parchments for the studies which best suited his genius, and by many inventions had already gained some fame. He therefore was asked to rebuild the lighthouse. His first thought, when he undertook the task, was to build it of stone, and he set himself to find out how the stones might be dovetailed, find out how the stones might be dovetailed, and so arranged and bound together as to be able to withstand almost any force to be able to withstand almost any force that could be brought against them. Then he went down from London to examine the reef. It was some days before he could get across from Plymouth, the sea was so rough; and when at length he succeeded, the waves were beating with such violence upon the rock that he could not set foot upon it. Yet it was upon that narrow peak, lashed by the angry waters, that he had to build. Three days later he went again, and at low tide he rejoiced to find himself able to land; but in two hours the rising waters compelled him to retire. On a third attempt he was driven back without even getting sight of the rock. On the fourth voyage the wind was blowing so fresh, and the breakers were so wild, that he could only direct the boat to lie off and on, while he watched the action of the sea upon the reef. A fifth trial proved no more successful: after rowing about all day, and anchoring out through the night, the party were again obliged by wind and rain to return to harbour. All night it raged along the It was not till coast, and when the day broke the light after seventeen days that Smeaton could house had disappeared-the builder and his land a second time. That day he contrived men, and every fragment of their work, had to get fifteen hours upon the rock, and to been swallowed by the billows. This first take the measurements he wanted. Afterlighthouse was constructed of wood, and was wards, when he got back to Plymouth, he of too angular and irregular a form long to was able to make a drawing of the building endure the shock of the tempest. as he proposed to raise it. On the next voyage of inspection he was once more driven back, and he had to wait another fortnight for favourable weather. Then three more. visits were paid to the rock, in one of which he was drenched to the skin by the spray, and so he corrected his measurements.

came on.

Thus the project failed; but it was not long before another man stepped forward to try his skill, one John Rudyerd, a London silk mercer, the son of a Cornish labourer. He was one of a worthless family of "ragged beggars." It is told of him that when his brothers went out pilfering he refused to go with them, and at last ran away from their ill-usage to find elsewhere, in unexpected prosperity, that after all "honesty is the best policy." This second time the building was reared with still greater care. Wood was used again, for it was commonly thought that nothing else would do. Rudyerd spared no pains to make it strong, and took care to avoid the faults of Winstanley's structure. So successful was he that his lighthouse, when completed, stood erect braving the winds and the waves for fifty years-its bright light serving as a friendly guide to many ships that might otherwise have perished. But at last one night a fire broke out, and being of wood, the whole pile was soon in a blaze. The keepers took refuge under a ledge in the rock, and were with difficulty rescued by some fishing-boats.

John Smeaton was at that time one of

After

This was only the first stage and the least
difficult part of the work undertaken. His
plans being approved, Smeaton commenced
building in the summer of 1756. He super-
intended everything that was done, nor did
he shrink from labouring with his hands:
and if there was any danger he was the first
to face it. Often the work was stopped for
days together by the fury of the waves;
tools and materials were sometimes washed
away, and once the little vessel in which
the party kept their stores and sought a
shelter, was carried out to sea, and for four
days beaten about by the winds.
August, 1759, the tower was finished, rising
up seventy feet above the restless waters.
The last mason's work done was the cut-
ting out of the words LAUS DEO (Praise
be to God) upon the last stone set over the
door of the lantern. Round the
upper store-
room the inscription had already been cut-

In

"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it." The light was first exhibited on the night of the 16th of October. About three years after one of the most terrible hurricanes ever known raged along the coast, causing everywhere immense damage, but all the harm done. to the lighthouse, we are told, "was repaired by a little gallipot of putty."

For more than a hundred years now the Eddystone lighthouse has withstood the waves that come leaping against it, making its walls tremble, and sometimes shrouding even its lofty lights in their spray-a monument of the skill and energy of man. "Many a heart has throbbed with gladness at the cry of The Eddystone is in sight!' sung out from the maintop. Homewardbound ships from far-off ports no longer avoid the dreaded rock, but eagerly run for its light as the sign of safety."

It is not given to every man to accomplish a work like this. We are not all called to combat with the powers of nature, or by great physical achievements to confer benefits on our race. But all men have their difficulties, all life is full of dangers; and in the commonest path of duty it is only by patience and perseverance, by carefulness and energy, that they can be overcome or avoided. The poor man often needs amidst cares and temptations as much courage and resolution as the great man engaged in a great undertaking. The man truly wise will always also feel that in all his struggles he has need of a Divine strength; and that in every success over difficulty the praise belongs to God alone. In the spiritual edifice the Christian never builds in vain.

IT

OIL ON THE TROUBLED WATERS. T is said that a rough sea has sometimes been smoothed by pouring oil upon the waves. I have never seen the experiment. tried; I therefore take the assertion on trust. But I know that the oil of Christian wisdom and kindness has often smoothed down the passions of the human heart when they have risen like waves; and that a few gentle words spoken in season have many a time done good.

My grandfather, for instance, an old gentleman with a great deal of leisure time on his hands, of which he made good use, was very skilful at pouring this kind of oil on the troubled waters of unholy strife.

There was an ancient couple, living at the far end of our widely-scattered village, who, though they were, in the main, honourable and loving disciples of the Lord Jesus Christ, were yet encompassed, as all Christians are, with infirmities, and were sorely troubled at times with their easily-besetting sin-that sin being, in each of them, a hasty temper, which too often betrayed them into grave and sad inconsistency.

One day, as my grandfather was taking his usual walk, and was drawing near to John Turner's cottage, he heard some loud and angry words, the deep bass of the man alternating with the higher voice of the

woman.

My grandfather understood what it meant; his old friends were quarrelling. Now the kind-hearted Christian knew very well that 'He that passeth by and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the cars;" that is to say, that he will be in danger of a bite; and, beyond almost all things, my grandfather dreaded and avoided meddling in domestic disputes. But, on the other hand, here was danger of scandal to religion, and so falling in his way, that he dared not be quite silent. He remembered, too, the words of the Lord Jesus Christ, "Blessed are the peacemakers;" and putting up a short prayer, therefore, for heavenly wisdom, he walked up to John Turner's cottage.

As he got close to the door, at sight of my grandfather there was a sudden silence.

"I am glad you are come, sir," said Mrs. Turner, making her appearance at the cottage door. Do come in and talk to my husband a bit."

"Certainly," said my grandfather, cheerfully; "what shall I talk to him about ?"

"About giving way to temper, sir," said the old woman, at once; "if you could only have heard how he has been going on

"Hold there, Susan," said John, coming forward from an inner room. "Your servant, sir, and I am glad to see you too," he continued, turning to the visitor; "but that's a little bit of a mistake of my old woman about my temper; the boot is on the other leg as it happens; and if you would only just take Susan in hand, it might be of some use. She gets beyond me, any how."

Their mutual blame need not be set down; nor is it necessary to explain the cause of the quarrel. "The mother of mischief," says an old proverb, "is no bigger than a gnat's wing;" and if half the quarrels in the world could be traced to thefr beginning, people would be often surprised at their wretched insignificance.

It was some time before the listener and umpire could get a quiet hearing; but he was patient.

"This is a sad business," he said, when at last there was silence; "but suppose we put but suppose we put off talking about it for a little while. There is something else to do first. You know what the apostle James says, Mrs. Turner.”

"About wars and fightings: I suppose that is what you mean, sir," said the good woman, rather sullenly.

"No; I was not thinking of that. He says, if you remember, 'Is any among you afilicted? let him pray. Is any merry? let hun sing psalms. Now, we will not talk about singing, because we are none of us very merry just now; but I am greatly

afflicted: so
then."

"I can't say, sir-I don't know-but it seems to me we are not much in a frame for prayer," said John Turner, stammering, and looking confused.

are we all. Let us pray invitation, and had tried to promote the innocent enjoyment of the occasion, by directing the conversation to subjects likely to interest the party, and by uniting most heartily in every desire which was breathed for the best welfare of the youthful coup. The time, however, drew nigh when the bride and bridegroom must go. It was proposed that before they left there should be worship-a proposal to which all parties most readily agreed. The Bible was brought and a portion of Scripture read, followed by a few remarks.

"I am afraid not," said the visitor; "but if we wait for praying frames to come to us, we shall have to wait long enough: if we have not got them, we must pray ourselves into them;" and, without waiting for a reply, he closed the cottage door, and knelt down, saying, "Come, Mr. Turner, you can pray you must pray."

"Don't ask me to do that, please," said John, with a sudden start of consciousness, and more confused than before.

"Well, if you will not pray, I must pray for you then, my friend," said my grandfather. And then

"Ah," said Mrs. Turner, afterwards, when, with tears in her eyes, she was telling me the history of this hour. "Ah, you should have heard how he prayed for us, and laid our case like, before God; so humbly confessing our sin, and his own sins as well, and asking, in those words of David, Create in us clean hearts, O God, and renew within us right spirits; and then saying, as good Jacob did, 'I will not let thee go, Lord, except thou bless us.""

At any rate, John and Susan Turner were
taken by surprise; but they could not refuse
to bend their knees as their old friend was

praying for them; and before he had ended,
they were both sobbing aloud, and adding
such broken petitions of their own as, “God
be merciful to me a sinner." At length they
rose from their knees: but the storm had

passed away, it was hoped, never to return.

And this was the way my grandfather cast oil on the troubled waters. Was it a good way?

THE WEDDING.

THE wedding was over. The day was

just such a day as one would have
chosen. Though the year was far advanced,
and the trees had put on the sober tints
of autumn, there was scarcely a cloud to
be seen in the sky, and the air was soft
and genial as summer. It was a joyous
party, composed of the friends of the bride
and bridegroom, which had assembled in the
house of the bride's father, a farmer in a
beautiful country district.
There was a
good breakfast to which everybody did
justice, and at which many kind things
were said, and the best wishes offered
for the happiness of the newly-married
pair.

The minister who had performed the
ceremony had been asked to share in the
festivities. He had gladly accepted the

Amongst other things, the minister said to the newly-married couple, "You are now beginning life together. You are commencing another and most important period of existence, bringing with it new duties, new cares, and new trials. If you have not already begun to serve God, let me beg you to begin now. Believe with all your

hearts in the Lord Jesus, and take God's word for your constant guide. You cannot otherwise expect God's blessing.

'Good Philip Henry said, 'Wherever I have a home, God shall have an altar.' Let that be your resolve. that be your resolve. As soon as you enter your own dwelling, set up family worship. I trust you will pray each of you alone; but I hope you will also pray together. Every morning and evening read a portion of God's word and pray.

"I do not wish to cast any gloom over your joy to-day, but none of us can promise you a life without trouble. It is not good. for any of us to be without trial, and you must expect your share. But to have a hope in Jesus, and to feel that his smile rests upon you, will be an ample solace, even in the

bitterest sorrows.

"The time of separation will come. I hope the day is far distant, and that you will be spared to each other for many, many years but it will come. With a common hope in the Saviour, you will have the blessed assurance that the parting will not be for ever, but that you will meet again."

Other such things were said, and then the young people were commended to God in earnest prayer, and very shortly they left for their new home.

Some of our readers may be just about to enter on the duties and cares of married life, or may have entered on them very lately. It is a time to which you have long looked eagerly forward. May you have all happiness, and the fulfilment of your brightest hopes. brightest hopes. But the fulfilment of all will not give you the happiness you look for unless you have God's blessing; and you can have that only as you seek it by faith in Christ, proved by a loving obedience to all his commands. Take God's word together and say: This word of thine, O Father, shall be the light of our dwelling and the lamp for our feet; and thou, O Lord, shalt be our God for ever and ever, and our guide even unto death.

stalk of wheat still lies on the ground, which has been missed by the drag or rake; and not a few loaves of good home-made bread will come out of that field yet. A hard-working woman, with quick eye and busy hand, will gather a good bundle in an hour's time; and if she have two or three boys and girls to help her, so much the better for her.

All can help at gleaning, or leasing, as it is called in some parts; and often it is the first real useful work that a child does. In some places the church bell is rung at a certain time in the morning, and no one must go into the gleaning-field till then, in order that all may begin fair. It

is a pleasant sight to see whole families turning into the field at the sound of the bell, and setting to work without losing a moment.

There is Mrs.Thrift, with her five younger children the elder ones are all at work elsewhere. There is not one of the five who is not gleaning, except the baby, and he is laid down in a snug place under the hedge. The biggest boy will be reaping next year.

And there is Widow Faithful, a poor lone woman, with nothing