y has been of a
dead gray color, and has seemed to hang so low that one might almost
reach it from the top of the lantern. Toward night the wind begins to
come in fitful gusts that moan around the light-house like the voices of
warning spirits. The keeper goes out on the balcony and looks anxiously
around the horizon. He knows that they are in for a bad night, and he
knows that even iron-screw light-houses have been carried away in great
gales. But he goes calmly and carefully about his work. He sees that the
boat and all other objects outside the house are well secured. He sees
the lamp well supplied with oil and trimmed wicks. He gives the lenses
and reflectors a few more affectionate rubs, and as the sun goes down
fire-red into a crimson sea he lights the wicks and goes down to his
supper.

The gusts of wind outside increase in number and in force. Strange
shriekings and moanings break from the crannies of the light-house. It
is blowing half a gale now, and the sea is beginning to rise. Fiercer
and fiercer become the blasts. The light-house begins to vibrate like a
fiddle. A strange humming, as of the giant strings of some enormous
AEolian harp, is added to the shriller screams of the wind. It is the
gale singing through the iron legs and braces of the structure. And now
a squall more violent than any that have preceded it comes yelling
across the sea. It tears the foaming crests off half a dozen waves, and
sends them swirling down to leeward in shivering sheets of snowy
spoondrift. With fearful force the blast strikes the light-house, at the
same time hurling some of the spoondrift against its weather side with
a crash. What was that? Did the whole building sway?

The keeper shuts his lips tightly and goes up to look at the lamp. It is
burning brightly. He descends again, and puts on his oil-skins and
sou'wester. Waiting for a lull in the gale, he bolts out upon the
balcony, hastily closing the door behind him. For a moment he stands,
clinging with all his might to the iron railing, while the mad wind
seems to try to strip his clothing from him. How the building trembles
under the furious assaults of the wind! What an awful roar the
conflicting elements make around its iron walls! The keeper's eyes are
half blinded by the driving rain and salt spray. But he can see by the
light of the faithful lamp above him towering walls of black and shining
water sweeping down out of the fathomless darkness beyond as if to
engu