"'Toll for the brave!
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave,
Fast by their native shore!
"'Eight hundred of the brave,
Whose courage well was tried,
Had made the vessel heel,
And laid her on her side.
"'A land breeze shook the shrouds,
And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.
"'Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfeldt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought:
His work of glory done.
"'It was not in the battle;
No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak;
She ran upon no rock.
"'His sword was in its sheath
His fingers held the pen,
When Kempenfeldt went down,
With twice four hundred men!
"'Weigh the vessel up,
Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup
The tear that England owes.
"'Her timbers yet are sound,
And she may float again,
Full charged with England's thunder,
And plough the distant main.
"'But Kempenfeldt is gone,
His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the main no more!"
MRS. WILTON. "I fear we are prolonging this evening's discussion beyond the customary bounds; but I should not be satisfied to quit the Channel without a peep at rocky Eddystone."
GEORGE. "Mamma is very anxious to see the Lighthouse, and so am I. It appears to me a most wonderful building, standing as it does, surrounded by foaming waves, and in constant danger from winds and storms. Who knows anything about it?"
EMMA. "I do! the Eddystone Lighthouse is built on a rock in the Channel, about fifteen miles south-south-west from the citadel of Plymouth. It is, as George remarked, exposed to winds and waves, for the heavy swells from the Bay of Biscay and the Atlantic Ocean send the waves breaking over the rock with prodigious fury. The first Lighthouse erected on these rocks was the work of a gentleman named Winstanley; it stood four years, when he was so confident of its stability that he determined to encounter a storm in the building himself. He paid for his temerity with his life, and found how vain it was to build houses of brick and stone to resist the mighty waters, which can only be controlled by the power of the most high God. Three years afterwards another Lighthouse was built which sustained the attacks of the sea for the space of forty-six years, but, strangely enough, was destroyed by fire in August, 1755. The fire broke out in the lantern, and burning downwards, drove the men, who in vain attempted to extinguish it, from chamber to chamber; until at last, to avoid the falling of the timber, and the red hot bolts, they took refuge in a cave on the east side of the rock, where they were found at low water in a state little short of stupefaction, and conveyed to Plymouth. The present Lighthouse was erected by Mr. Smeaton on an improved plan: no expense was spared to render it durable and ornamental; the last stone was placed on the 25th of August, 1759, and the first night the light was exhibited a very great storm happened, which actually shook the building; but it stood,—and it still stands,—a glorious monument of human enterprise, perseverance, and skill."
GRANDY. "We have done so much to-night, and have been so much interested, that I may venture to offer an apology for not having prepared my portion. It is now time for supper; and I think you have heard as much to-night as you can well remember. Shall I ring the bell, my dear?" Mrs. Wilton replied in the affirmative, and John quickly appeared with the tray. Some nice baked apples soon smoked on the table, with cakes of Grandy's own making, intended expressly for the children, and which gave universal satisfaction. The meeting dispersed about half-past ten, and all felt the wiser for their evening's amusement.
CHAPTER III.
There lives and works
A soul in all things,—and that soul is God!
For a few minutes we will quit the "Research," and take a peep into Mr. Wilton's drawing-room. There is a bright, blazing fire; the crimson curtains are closely drawn; pussy is curled up in a circle on the soft rug; and Grandy, with her perpetual knitting, is still in the old leather chair.