EDDTSTO^E LIGHTHOUSE. 1 5& 



It was equally proof against the tempestuous weather which ushered in 

 the year 1762, one storm of which was of extraordinary fury. 



Srueaton's light-house has stood ever since, and promises yet to stand 

 for many centuries. It is, as has been mentioned, of stone, and is a 

 round building, gradually decreasing in circumference from the base up 

 to a certain height, like the trunk of an oak, from which the architect 

 states that he took the idea of it. On the morning after the storm had 

 spent its chief fury, many anxious observers pointed their glasses to the 

 spot, where they scarcely expected ever again to descern it, and a feeling 

 almost of wonder mixed itself with joy and pride of their architect, as 

 they, with difficulty, descried its form through the still dusk and troubled 

 air. The light-house is attended by three men, who receive but '~*5 

 each per annum, with an occasional leave of absence in the summer. 

 Formerly there were only two, who watched by turns every four hours ; 

 but, one being i taken ill, and dying, the necessity of an additional hand 

 became apparent. After the death of his companion, the living man 

 found himself in a very awkward situation. Being apprehensive if he 

 tumbled the dead body into the sea (which was the only way that he 

 could dispose of it), he might be charged with murder, he was induced 

 for some time to let the dead body lie, in hopes that the boat might be 

 able to land and relieve him from the distress he was in. By degrees 

 the body became so offensive, that it was not in his power to get quit of 

 it without help, for it was near a month before the attending boat could 

 effect a landing, and it was not without the greatest difficulty that it 

 could be done, when they could land. To such a degree was the whole 

 building filled with the stench of the corpse, that it was all they could do 

 to throw the body into the sea. It is related, that while two light 

 keepers only were employed, they forbore, upon some disgust, to speak 

 to each other. A person observing to one of them, how happy they 

 might live in their state of retirement, "Yes," replied the man, "very 

 comfortable, if we could but have the use of our tongues, but it is now 

 a full month since my partner and I have spoken to each other/' It is 

 also said, that a shoemaker was going out to be light-keeper; the boatman 

 said to him, " how comes it, friend Jack, that you should choose to go 

 out to be light-keeper, when you can on shore, as I am told, earn half a 

 crown and three shillings a-day; whereas the light- keeper's salary is but 

 '25 a year, which is scarcely ten shillings a-week ?" " I go to be light- 

 keeper," replied the shoemaker, " because I don't like confinement." 



