LIGHTHOUSES.

a gale, and the waves
thrust up their ragged
white arms as if to tear
the lighthouse down.
When I was a boy, a

sli
Te
et OuoCUOUOUN TIER

structure was put up that
rested on piles of iron, and
it did very well for a time
but a fearful storm came
up that raged terribly
along the New England
coast. I remember I went

epee

from school, my green
satchel in my hand, down
to the old wharves at

 

home to see the great
tide in that storm. I
never saw such _ tides
there, before nor since.

 

_I remember they rose up

 

 

 

and swept clear over

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wharves supposed _to be

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

high enough out of water

 

 

always. In that storm,
the fancy piece of pipe-
stem on Minot’s Ledge
went over, the iron piles
snapping like dry pine
twigs. The waves were
so strong that they rolled

 

 

A MODERN STYLE OF LIGHTHOUSE,