he lighting-up of his own building. From the shore, however, he
beheld its initiative gleam as it opened its bright eye to the reality
of its grand position, and we can well believe that his hardy,
persevering spirit exulted that night over the success of his labours.
We can well believe, also, that there was in him a deeper and higher
feeling than that of mere joy, if we may judge of the cast of his mind
by the inscriptions put by him upon his work during progress and at
completion.

Round the upper store-room, on the course under the ceiling, he
chiselled the words:--

"Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it."

And on the last stone set, over the door of the lantern, was carved:--

"Praise God!"

The lighthouse, thus happily completed, rose to a height of seventy
feet, and consisted of forty-six courses of masonry. The internal
arrangements will be understood at once by reference to our engraving,
which exhibits a section of the tower. There was first the solid part,
35 feet in height and 16 feet 8 inches in diameter at the top, the base
being much wider. Then came the still very solid portion with the
entrance-door and the spiral staircase. Above that, the first
store-room, which had no windows. Next, the second store-room, with two
windows. Next the kitchen, followed by the bed-room, both of which had
four windows; and, last, the lantern. The rooms were 12 feet 4 inches
in diameter, with walls 2 feet 2 inches thick, and the whole fabric,
from top to bottom, was so dovetailed, trenailed, cemented,
inter-connected, and bound together, that it formed and still continues,
a unique and immoveable mass of masonry.

There were others besides Smeaton who watched, that night, with deep
interest the opening of the Eddystone's bright eye.

In a humble apartment in the village of Cawsand Bay an aged man stood,
supported by an elderly man, at a window, gazing seaward with an
expression of intense expectation, while a very aged woman sat crooning
over the fire, holding the hand of a fair girl just verging on early
womanhood.

"D'ee see it yet, Tommy?" asked the old man, eagerly.

"No, not yet," replied Tommy, "not--yes--there--!"

"Ah! that's it, I see it," cried old John Potter, with a faint gleam of
his old enthusiasm. "There it goes, brighter than ever. A blessed
light, and much wanted, Tommy, much, much wanted."

He leaned heavily on his son's arm and, after gazing for some t