guard herself, "except w'en you was after mischief."

"Well, but Tommy," continued old John, "you was agoin' to tell us
somethin' about this Mister Smeaton. What sort of a man is he?"

"As far as I can judge, on short acquaintance," replied Potter, "he
seems to be a man who has got a mind and a will of his own, and looks
like one who won't be turned out of his straight course by trifles. His
name is John, which is a good bible name, besides being yours, father,
and he comes from Leeds, a highly respectable place, which has produced
men of note before now. His age is thirty-two, which is about the most
vigorous period of a man's life, and he has come to his present business
in spite of all opposition, a fact which is favourable to the prospects
of the lighthouse. In short he's a natural genius, and a born engineer.
His father, an attorney, wished him to follow his own profession, but
it was soon clear that that was out of the question, for the boy's whole
soul was steeped from earliest childhood in mechanics."

"I once knew a boy," said John Potter, with a smile, "whose whole soul
was steeped in the same thing!"

"And in mischief," added old Martha, suddenly, much to every one's
surprise. The old woman's deafness was indeed of a strangely
intermittent type!

"Well," continued Potter, with a laugh and a nod to his mother, "no
doubt Smeaton had a spice of mischief in him among other qualities, for
it is said of him that when quite a little fellow he made a force pump,
with which he emptied his father's fish-pond of water, to the detriment,
not to say consternation, of the fish. The upshot of it all was that
the lad was apprenticed to a maker of mathematical instruments, and soon
proved himself to be an inventive genius of considerable power. Ere
long he commenced business on his own account, and has now undertaken
the task of building the _third_ lighthouse on the Eddystone. I was in
London lately, and saw the beautiful models of the intended structure
which Smeaton has made with his own hands, and it seems to me that he's
just the man to do the work."

At the mention of models, old John Potter's eyes lighted up, for it
brought the memory of former days vividly before him.

"He means to build it of stone," said the son.

"Stone, say 'ee? that's right, Tommy, that's right," said old John, with
a nod of strong approval, "I've always thought that the weak point in
the old light'ouses was _want of weight_. On