her to "Greenland's icy mountains, or India's
coral strand," for it had no bowsprit at all. Its helm was never swayed
to port or starboard, although it _had_ a helm, because the vessel
turned submissive with the tides, and its rudder, being lashed hard and
fast amidships--like most weather-cocks--couldn't move. Its doom was to
tug perpetually, day and night, from year to year, at a gigantic anchor
which would not let go, and to strain at a monster chain-cable which
would not snap--in short, to strive for ever, like Sisyphus, after
something which can never be attained.

A sad destiny, some may be tempted to exclaim. No, reader, not so sad
as it appears. We have presented but one side of the picture. That
curious, almost ridiculous-looking craft, was among the aristocracy of
shipping. Its important office stamped it with nobility. It lay there,
conspicuous in its royal colour, from day to day and year to year, to
mark the fair-way between the white cliffs of Old England and the
outlying shoals--distinguished in daylight by a huge ball at its
mast-head, and at night by a magnificent lantern with argand lamps and
concave reflectors, which shot its rays like lightning far and wide over
the watery waste, while, in thick weather, when neither ball nor light
could be discerned, a sonorous gong gave its deep-toned warning to the
approaching mariner, and let him know his position amid the surrounding
dangers. Without such warnings by night and by day, the world would
suffer the loss of thousands of lives and untold millions of gold.
Indeed the mere absence of such warnings for one stormy night would
certainly result in loss irreparable to life and property. As well
might Great Britain dispense with her armies as with her floating
lights! That boiled-lobster-like craft was also, if we may be allowed
to say so, stamped with magnanimity, because its services were
disinterested and universal. While other ships were sailing grandly to
their ports in all their canvas panoply, and swelling with the pride of
costly merchandise within, each unmindful of the other, _this_ ship
remained floating there, destitute of cargo, either rich or poor, never
in port, always on service, serene in all the majesty of her one settled
self-sacrificing purpose--to guide the converging navies of the world
safely past the dangerous shoals that meet them on their passage to the
world's greatest port, the Thames, or to speed them safely thence when