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is an hundred and fifteen feet. As far up as the entrance door, which is thirty feet from the ground course, the building is entirely solid, excepting a small hole cut in the centre stones for the drop of the weight of the machinery. The ascent to the entrance door is by a kind of rope ladder, which is hung out at ebb tide, and again taken into the building when the water covers the rock. A narrow passage leads from the door to the stair-case. The stair-case occupies thirteen feet of the building immediately above the solid part. Here the walls are seven feet thick, but they regularly become thinner all the way to the top. The remaining fifty-seven feet of the mason-work is divided by five stone floors into rooms for the light-keepers and stores, which communicate with each other by wooden ladders. It being proper to have nothing of a combustible nature about the lightroom, the ladders there are of iron. The three lower apartments have each two small windows, and the upper rooms have each four windows; the whole being provided with strong shutters to defend the glass against the sea in storms.

The two first courses of the building are entirely sunk into the rock. The stones of all the courses are dove-tailed, and let into each other in such a manner that each course forms one connected mass from the centre to the circumference; and the successive sources are attached to each other by joggles of stone, upon the plan of the Eddystone light-house; and whilst the building was still amongst the water, two trenail holes were bored through cach stone, entering six inches into the course below; oaken trenails of two inches diameter were driven into these holes, which effectually keep the stones from shifting till the stones of the next course were laid. The cement used at the Bell Rock was a mixture of lime, pozzolano earth, and sand; and that it might resemble the mortar used at the Eddystone with so much success, the lime was brought from the very same quarry in Wales.

Round the balcony of the light-room, there is a cast-iron rail, curiously wrought like net-work, which rests upon the batts of brass; and the rail has a massive coping of the same metal. The light-room is of an octagon form, twelve feet diameter, and fifteen feet in height, constructed chiefly of cast iron, with a dome roof of copper; and the window sashes all round are glazed with polished plate glass, which is one quarter of an inch in thickness. In one of the lower apartments, or the kitchen, there is an iron grate or open fire-place, with a metal tube for conveying the smoke to the top of the light-room, which heats the several rooms through which it passes. This grate and chimney merely touch the building, without being included or built upon the walls.

The light is very powerful, and has been seen from a ship's

deck full twenty miles from the rock. It is from oil, with Argand burners, placed in the focus of silver plated reflectors, hollowed to the parabolic curve. That the Bell Rock light may be readily distinguished by the mariner from all others on the coast, reflectors are ranged upon a frame, which is made to revolve upon a perpendicular axis once in three minutes. Between the observer and the reflectors, on one side of the frame, shades of red glass are interposed, in such a manner, that during each entire revolution of the frame with the reflectors, two distinctly different appearances are produced, the one of a common bright light, and the other, or shaded side, having the rays tinged red; and these lights alternate, with intervals of darkness.

As further warning to the mariner, two large bells are tolled day and night during the continuance of foggy or snowy weather by the same machinery which moves the lights. As these bells in moderate weather, may be heard considerably beyond the limits of the rock, a vessel may by this means be prevented from running upon the rock during fogs, a disaster which might otherwise happen, notwithstanding the erection of the light-house.

The establishment of keepers consists of a principal light keeper and three others. Each keeper at the end of six weeks, in his turn is relieved, and is at liberty to go upon his own affairs for a fortnight. The pay is about fifty pounds per annum, with provisions while at the light-house. At Arbroath, each of the light keepers has a house provided by the commissioners of his family. Connected with these houses, there is a signal tower, where an excellent telescope is kept, and a set of signals arranged with the people at the light-house for the attending vessel, which carries off the stores, provisions, and fuel to the light-house.

The expense of this undertaking has not yet been ascertained, but it is supposed to amount to about 55,000l. sterling.

**. As this rock has long enjoyed the fatal pre-eminence of causing more shipwrecks than others, though now the cause we trust of many future escapes from such distresses, we conclude this article with the traditionary report of the neighbouring coasts, combined into poetry. The benevolence of the present age forms a strong and happy contrast with the barbarism of ancient times.


No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
The ship was still as she might be ;
Her sails from heav'n receiv'd no motion,
Her keel was steady in the ocean.

Without either sign or sound of their shock,
The waves flow'd over the Inchcape rock;

So little they rose, so little they fell,
They did not nove the Inchcape Bell.

The worthy abbot of Aberbrothock,
Had floated that bell on the Inchcape rock;
On the waves of the storm it floated and swung,
And louder and louder, it warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the tempest's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
...And then they knew the perilous rock,
And bless'd the priest of Aberbrothock.

The sun in heaven shone so gay,
All things were joyful on that day,
The sea-birds scream'd as they sported round,
And there was pleasure in that sound.

The float of the Inchcape bell was seen,
A darker speck, on the ocean green:
Sir Ralph the Rover walk'd his deck,
And he fix'd his eye on the darker speck.

He felt the cheering pow'r of spring,
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the bell and float:

Quoth he, "My men put out the boat,
"And row me to the Inchcape rock,
"And I'll plague the priest of Aberbrothock."

The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row,
And to the Inchcape rock they go:
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,
And cut the warning bell from the float.

Down sunk the bell with a gurgling sound,
The bubbles arose and burst around;

Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to this rock "Will not bless the priest of Aberbrothock."

Sir Ralph the Rover, sail'd away,
He scour'd the seas for many a day;
And now grown rich with plunder'd store
He steers his way to Scotland's shore.

So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky,
They cannot see the sun on high :
The wind had blown a gale all day,
At evening it had died away.

On the deck the Rover takes his stand, So dark it is they can see no land; VOL. VII.

3 R

Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon,
"For there is the dawn of the rising moon."

"Can'st hear,” said one," the breakers roar?
"For yonder, methinks, should be the shore;
"Now where we are I cannot tell,
"But I wish we could hear the Inchcape Bell."

They hear no sound, the swell is strong;
Tho' the wind had fallen, they drift along,
Till the vessel strikes with a shiv'ring shock-
Oh, Heavens! it is the Inchcape Rock.

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair,
He cursed himself in his despair;
The waves rush in on every side,
The vessel sinks beneath the tide.


Some account of Alexander Wilson, author of the exquisite and humorous Ballad of "Watty and Meg," with that Poem subjoined. From "Cromek's Scottish Songs."

THE reader is here presented with an exquisite picture from low life, drawn with all the fidelity and exactness of Teniers, or Ostade, and enlivened with the humour of Hogarth. The story excites as much interest as if it had been written in a dramatic form, and really represented. The interest heightens as it proceeds, and is supported with wonderful spirit to the close of the poem.


It must have been in no small degree gratifying to the feelings of the author, who published it anonymously, that during a rapid sale of seven or eight editions, the public universally ascribed it to the pen of Burns. The author of Will and Jean,' or 'Scotland's Scaith,' had the candour to acknowledge to the Editor that he was indebted to this exquisite poem for the foundation of that popular performance.

The following sketch of the life of the author of this striking performance, has been communicated in the most obliging manner, by Mr. James Brown, manufacturer, at Paisley :

Alexander Wilson, author of Watty and Meg, was born at Paisley, in the year 1766. His father, intending him for the medical profession, gave him as good an education as his trade of a weaver would allow. He, however, entered into a second mar riage, which put an end to this scheme, unfortunately for young

Wilson, who at the age of thirteen was put to the loom. After an apprenticeship of five years, he became his own master; but his eager passion for reading poetry and novels, absorbed most of his time, and left him in a state of constant need. In the year 1786 he gave up his occupation, and travelled the country. In 1790 he settled again in Paisley, and published a volume of poems and a journal of his excursions, which meeting with poor success, involved him further in pecuniary difficulties. He again returned to the loom; but his favourite literary pursuits still engrossed his attention, and the society of the young and thoughtless of his own age consumed his time and exhausted his means of support.

Soon after the publication of his poems he became the dupe of a worthless fellow, who had been vainly endeavouring to sell them, and who persuaded him to write a satire, with a view to relieve himself from his embarrassments. The poem being of a popular subject, sold rapidly; but his friend's advice led him beyond the safe bounds of satire, and he incurred a prosecution, by which he suffered severely. The remembrance of this misfortune dwelt upon his mind, and rendered him dissatisfied with his country.

Another cause of Wilson's dejection was the rising fame of Burns, and the indifference of the public to his own productions. He may be said to have envied the Ayrshire bard, and to this envy may be attributed his best production," Watty and Meg," which he wrote at Edinburg, in 1793. He sent it to Nielson, printer, at Paisley, who had suffered by the publication of his former poems. As it was, by the advice of his friends, published anonymously, it was generally ascribed to Burns, and went rapidly through seven or eight editions. Wilson, however, shared no part of the profits, willing to compensate for the former losses his publisher had sustained.

Tired of a country in which the efforts of his genius had been rendered abortive, he resolved in the year 1794 or 1795 to embark for America, which his warm fancy and independent spirit had taught him to regard as the land of liberty. To procure money for the passage he laboured with incessant industry, and having accumulated a sufficient sum, he took his departure. He settled in the state of Pennsylvania, where he remained four or five years as a teacher, and was afterwards employed for about the same length of time as a land surveyor. He then became connected with Mr. Samuel F. Bradford, bookseller and stationer, of Philadelphia, in the capacity of editor. He is now engaged in an extensive work entitled, " American Ornithology." In pursuit of subjects for this performance he has actually traversed a great part of the United States, and has been enabled to pursue his

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