The Wolf Rock, which rears its jagged head
about nine miles south-west of the Land's End,
and on which many a ship has struck, is on
the eve of being converted from a treacherous
enemy of the mariner into a trustworthy guide
and a true friend. The last stone of a
lighthouse on this rock was laid a short time since,
and comforting beams of light will soon shine
out from it over the neighbouring waters.

The magnitude of the work of building a
lighthouse out at sea, is not enough considered.
Before we revert to the tower on the Wolf
Rock, it may not be uninteresting to devote
a few words to some of the most remarkable
lighthouses built on isolated rocks.

Every one has heard of the Eddystone
Lighthouse, and the story of Winstanley, the
Plymouth mercer, is one of those heroic tales
which the world will not willingly let die.
Moved with sorrow on account of the many
ill-fated vessels which struck on the dreaded
rock, he determined to try to place a
lighthouse there. After numerous and disheartening
failures, he at length managed to raise a
wooden tower, and having made it the purpose
of his life and bestowed much thought and
labour on the work, he believed it to be of
such wonderful strength, that he expressed
the hope that he might be in the tower during
the fiercest storm that ever stirred the deep.
He had his wish, poor fellow! Miss Ingelow
relates the story in charming verse. She tells
us of a night, when the inhabitants of
Plymouth were all in great fear because of a
terrible storm which raged outside, when

          The great mad waves were rolling graves,
          And each flung up its dead;
         The seething flow was white below,
         And black the sky o'erhead.

         And when the dawn–the dull grey dawn–
         Broke on the trembling town,
         And men looked south from the harbour mouth,
         The lighthouse tower was down.

Winstanley, who had gone out with some
workmen to do some repairs, perished with it.
Another wooden tower was shortly after built
by John Rudyerd, which, after standing forty
years, was destroyed by fire. Last, came
Smeaton, who, after three years' labour, in
1759 completed the present stone lighthouse,
which, for more than a century, has staunchly
fulfilled its purpose. The old wise men of the
beach shook their old heads and muttered evil
forebodings about the new tower; and on the
occasion of an unusually violent storm, they
agreed that, if the tower stood through that,
it would stand until the day of judgement. It
would seem that their words are in a fair way
to be realised, for the lighthouse stands now
as firm as ever it did, and is virtually part
and parcel of the rock itself.

There is a rock on the east coast of Scotland
right in the way of the up and down
navigation, and twelve miles from the land. It is
known by the name of the Bell, or Inchcape
Rock, and has been a terror to many a sailor.
On this rook was placed a bell, as tradition
says by the Abbot of Aberbrothock, which
a sea pirate once took down. The pirate,
a short time after, perished on the same rock,
"in the righteous judgement of God," as the
story goes. A lighthouse now stands there.
The difficulties encountered in building the
tower seem to have been very great. The
rock is just barely uncovered at a low spring
tide, and then only could work be done upon
it. The superintending engineer and the
workmen lived for a long time in a floating vessel
anchored off the rock, in which they rode
out many a gale, and passed many anxious
hours. Afterwards, they built a temporary
wooden barrack on the rock, and were a
little more comfortable, though rather closely
packed. But they overcame all difficulties,
and after five years of persevering labour
–1807 to 1811– completed the lighthouse.

Again, there is the Skerryvore Rock off
the west coast of Scotland, the most elevated
point of a low-lying reef, fourteen miles from
the island of Tyree, and fifty miles from the
mainland, and exposed to the full force of the
Atlantic Ocean. The sea manifested a fierce
objection to anything in the way of a building
being established on this rock. The workmen
built themselves a wooden barrack, as at the
Bell Rock; but before they had finished it,
the building was washed away, and the thick
iron stanchions were torn out of their places,
or bent and twisted like pieces of wire. They
tried again, and eventually succeeded in
erecting a firmer and more substantial dwelling-
place for their company of thirty, which
resisted the power of the waves. They began
the lighthouse in 1838, and during six years
their labour was marked by great risks,
numerous delays, and heavy disappointments. But
skill and energy were at last triumphant. In
February, 1844, the work was successfully
finished.

The great works at the Bishop's Rock, the
westernmost of the Scilly Isles; the tower
on the Smalls Rock, in the Bristol Channel;
the lighthouse on the Hanois Rock off
Guernsey; all tell the same story of engineering skill,
of indomitable energy and perseverance,
culminating in successful and beneficent results.

The erection of the lighthouse on the Wolf
Rock, rivals the great works of former days.
The rock is completely covered at high water,
and shows only two feet above low water.
In 1861, the Trinity House authorities
resolved to commence the building of a
lighthouse on it; in March, 1862, work was
begun on the rock. Slowly and surely it has
progressed, in spite of innumerable obstacles.
A workyard was established at Penzance,
where the stones were prepared and fitted into
one another, by dovetailing horizontally and
vertically, before being sent off to the rock; in
act, the tower was built at Penzance. Then,
as opportunities of tide and weather occurred
or working on the rock, so shipments of stones
were despatched. During the whole seven
years from 1862, the men have not been able
work on the rock, more than one hundred
and seventy three days of ten hours a day. Of