the Inch Cape Rock in days
gone by!

Sometimes, on a dark stormy night, I used to try to realise something of
this. Turning my back on the lighthouse I tried to forget it, and
imagine what must have been the feelings of those who had actually stood
there and been driven inch by inch to the higher ledges, with the
certain knowledge that their doom was fixed, and without the comfort and
assurance that, behind them, stood a strong tower of refuge from the
storm!

I was fortunate, during my stay, in having experience of every variety
of weather--from a dead calm to a regular gale. It was towards the end
of my visit that the gale came on, and it lasted two days. No language
can convey an adequate idea of the sublimity of the scene and the sense
of power in the seething waves that waged furious war over the Rock
during the height of that gale. The spray rose above the kitchen
windows, (70 feet on the tower), in such solid masses as to darken the
room in passing, and twice during the storm we were struck by waves with
such force as to shake the tower to its foundation.

This storm delayed the "Relief boat" a day. Next day, however, it
succeeded in getting alongside--and at length, after a most agreeable
and interesting sojourn of two weeks, I parted from the hospitable
keepers with sincere regret and bade adieu to a lighthouse which is not
only a monument of engineering skill, but a source of safety to the
shipping, and of confidence to the mariners frequenting these waters.

In former days men shunned the dreaded neighbourhood of the Inch Cape
Rock with anxious care. Now, they look out for that:--

"Ruddy gem of changeful light
Bound on the dusky brow of night,--"

And _make for it_ with perfect safety. In time past human lives, and
noble ships, and costly merchandise were lost on the Bell Rock every
year. Now, disaster to shipping there is not even dreamed of; and one
of the most notable proofs of the value of the lighthouse, (and,
indirectly, of all other lighthouses), lies in the fact, that not a
single wreck has occurred on the Bell Rock since that auspicious evening
in 1811 when the sturdy pillar opened its eyes for the first time, and
threw its bright beams far and wide over the North Sea.

CHAPTER THREE.

NIGHTS WITH THE FIRE BRIGADE.

There are few lives, we should think, more trying or more full of
curious adventure and thrilling incident than that of a London fireman.

He must always be