CHAPTER IV.
THE INTERIOR OF A LIGHTHOUSE.
After having devoted so many pages to what we have called—perhaps somewhat fancifully—the soul of the lighthouse, it becomes necessary to say a few words in reference to the body which encases it.
In building up this body, no less ingenuity and science have been displayed than in perfecting and expanding the light which gives it life and value. Whether the lighthouse-tower is situated on some wave-washed rock surrounded by a hungry sea, or on the summit of a conspicuous headland, the highest skill is exercised upon its construction, and it becomes, in many instances, a monument of the most brilliant architectural genius. Not, indeed, that it exhibits those beautiful features of clustered columns and lofty arches, or that elaboration of picturesque ornament, which delight us in the lordly mansion and the ancient cathedral; but that an equal perfection of art is revealed in its massive simplicity and impregnable solidity, and in its admirable adaptation to the grand purposes for which it is intended.
Two primary conditions, it is obvious, must always govern the construction of a lighthouse: it must be raised to an elevation suitable for the full display of its warning radiance, and it must be built with a strength and solidity which will defy the assault of wind or wave.