plan of painting the light-houses in stripes or bands is strongly recommended by her Majesty's commissioners. Another excellent suggestion, is that of notifying the approach of storms, by means of Admiral Fitzroy's signals, from such light-houses as are adapted by their prominence for that purpose. Another desideratum, is the employment of some efficient means of indicating the locality of a light-house when the fog prevents its light from being seen.

Although the number of light-houses has steadily increased as pressure has been brought to bear upon the authorities, there is yet room for more; for vessels may be within a very short distance of the coast in clear weather, and yet beyond the range of any light. Our neighbours, wiser in this matter, have so arranged their ocean-lights that they cross each other's tire. The shortcomings of our system are especially apparent on the western coasts of Ireland and Scotland, and the Channel Islands, where the rapid tides afford additional argument for more efficient protection. But whatever the deficiencies in the lighting up of our coasts, and however susceptible of improvement the system may be, it is satisfactory to find, on the testimony of those who should, by their vocation, be the best judges, that England is not behind other countries in a matter in which her reputation and interest are so nearly concerned. Only 33 mariners out of 311 prefer foreign to British lights, while not one foreigner declares in favour of the lighting of other countries. In making direct comparisons between British and foreign lights, as to the distance at which they are discernible, 112 witnesses decide for the superiority of the former against 72 partisans of the latter. The light-vessels of the United Kingdom number forty-seven (besides a reserve force of eight), of which no less than forty-one belong to England. Oil is invariably used for these floating-lights, and the catoptric system adopted in all but three. They may be divided into fixed and revolving, white and coloured, and again into one, two, or three light vessels. That they may be distinguishable in the daylight, they carry balls at the mast-head; those of the Trinity House are painted red; the Irish vessels are black with a white streak. To be of real service, it is necessary that a floating-light should never be absent from its station; and in this respect there seems to be no ground for complaint. Not a single instance is on record of a voluntary desertion of a post; and where a vessel has been driven from its moorings-an event of rare occurrence-it has been quickly replaced; and not one has ever been wrecked. As far as safety is concerned, the most exposed stations are apparently the least dangerous, the long sea and the length of chain required to moor the vessels in deep water, render it easier riding than where the sea is shorter, the water shallower, and the current stronger.

These light-vessels are costly affairs-the English ones averaging L.3622 each; and the Irish, which are of a superior kind, and of greater size, L.6224. The expense of maintenance is much heavier than in the case of light-houses, amounting to L.1103 per annum in the lowest instance, which is some L.250 less than that incurred by the American government. From the neglect of many local authorities, the information respecting the buoys of Great Britain is very defective. The returns give 1109 in position, and 573 in reserve-a number much below the mark, for in this respect our coasts are better guarded than those of any other country. It is to be regretted, however, that some uniform system of buoying has not been put into practice. The northern commissioners, it is true, have lately adopted the plan of placing red buoys on the starboard, and black buoys on the porthand in entering harbours; the English and Irish authorities have also in some measure systemised their buoyage, but as if on purpose to render the confusion worse confounded, the last-named reverse the Scotch formula; and the Trinity Board place red or

black buoys to starboard, and checkered ones to port; the local authorities following this laudable example, do their worst to complicate matters by using an independent system of their own; while the Admiralty itself dispenses with any attempt at uniformity within its own jurisdiction. The original cost of a buoy varies according to its size and construction. Some of the old-fashioned Nun and Can buoys do not cost more than sixteen guineas; but there are buoys afloat which have cost as much as L.197. The only regular expense attending them, when they are once fixed in position, is that of painting, which is done by the crews of the floating-lights in England, but in Scotland costs 7s. 6d. per annum for each buoy, while the Dublin Board actually pay from L.2, 10s. to L.5, 5s. for the same operation-a charge requiring some explanation.

The want of system observable in our light-houses prevails in an equal degree in our beaconage, in diversities of form, colour, and construction, so that a certain amount of local knowledge is absolutely necessary before the mariner can avail himself of the warning given by the beacons. The materials of which they are constructed are of various kinds-wooden beams, iron, and solid masonry. On the Goodwin Sands, hollow-pile beacons have been erected, with encouraging results. The beacon near Stornoway reflects light which it derives from a light-house on shore, but, in general, lights are omitted as unnecessary. The navigation of the Clyde is rendered easy by a number of solid structures at short distances, distinguished by colour and other means, marking the course of the channel in a way worthy of imitation elsewhere. Where such a variety of materials is employed, of course the expenditure fluctuates exceedingly. A white pole, surmounted by a basket, answers the purpose at Lymington-creek; the Pabba beacon, in the Sound of Skye, made of malleable iron, cost more than L.500; and the beacon on the Wolf Rock, Land's End, entailed the enormous expenditure of L.11,298. The cost of maintenance of these useful structures is often nothing at all, except in situations which render them liable to damage from the action and force of the waves.

In France, the ocean-lights are under the direction of the Commission de Phares-a body of naval officers, marine-engineers, hydrographers, and scientific men, possessing special means for testing all the apparatus employed. America and Spain have placed their coasts under similar control. Austria, Sweden, and Turkey intrust this charge to their respective Admiralties. In Holland, Norway, and Denmark, the Ministry of Marine is the responsible department. In Belgium, the Minister of Public Works sees to the construction of light-houses, which are then surrendered to the care of the general direction of the navy. In Russia, the duty is performed by the Hydrographical Department. In our own country, the carrying out of any systematic arrangement of the light-house system is impeded by the distinct and often opposing action of three separate governing bodies, to say nothing of some hundred and seventy local authorities, wielding jurisdiction in their several spheres. In England, the general authority is in the hands of the Trinity House

a self-elected corporation of nautical men, without any special aptitude for the light-house service; the Ballast Board of Dublin, paramount in Ireland, is not even composed of those familiar with the sea; and the Scotch commissioners are two legal crown officials, the sheriffs of certain maritime counties, and the provosts of certain royal burghs-gentlemen by no means necessarily conversant with light-house science and management.

To obviate the evils consequent upon this divided and misplaced authority, the royal commission, presided over by Admiral Hamilton, propose the creation of a central authority, to be called the Trinity Commissioners of Lights: this body to be composed of

four members elected by the Trinity House, one Scotch representative, to reside at Edinburgh, and one Irish, to dwell at Dublin, who shall devote all their energies to the light-house service alone. To these they would add a scientific member, appointed by the government, the astronomer-royal, the hydrographer of the Admiralty, the comptroller-general of the coast-guard, and a professional member of the Board of Trade. They also consider it advisable that the new department should be subject to an annual visitation from the Royal Society, to whom it shall submit a report of its proceedings during the year, to be afterwards laid before parliament. They would make the coast-guard officers inspectors of the lights in their districts, and render the whole service chargeable upon the public revenue.

To these recommendations, little objection can be made; and if parliament will but carry them out, the royal commissioners will have done good service to seafaring men, and through them, to the country at large.

THE UNDERCLIFF.

AMONG the various resorts in search of health, few within a moderate distance are so agreeable and every way satisfactory as what is known as the Undercliff in the Isle of Wight. We do not say this on the authority of books-though to these we might refer-but from personal experience on different occasions; and a grateful recollection of this beautiful and accessible spot, impels us to take pen in hand on the subject.

Change of air and scene is now, we believe, acknowledged to be highly conducive to health, and accordingly, at certain seasons, all who can afford it are seen fleeing off to the sea-side, the Highlands, or the continent. Middle-aged people, somewhat done up with overtasking of brain, are said to experience wonderful re-invigoration, and also not a little amusement a great thing that, by the way-at such water-cures' as Ilkley and Ben Rydding; while those who are enfeebled by chest and bronchial complaints more usually seek a milder and more southern climate, and more delicate treatment. For this latter class of persons, there is, of course, nothing to excel Madeira or Malaga, but of these and other distant resorts not one in a hundred invalids can afford to take advantage; and from one cause or other, the bulk of people must rest satisfied with quarters much nearer home. Possibly, Penzance in Cornwall, and Torquay in Devonshire, are in some way peculiarly adapted for certain complaints; but we entertain a pretty strong conviction, that for mildness, united with general dryness and equability of temperature, nothing within the compass of England can surpass Ventnor, in the Isle of Wight. If better be wanted, we incline to think it must be sought for abroad.

What an immense number of charming places are rendered disagreeable for residence by rain, fogs, and humidity! Damp, damp a heavy, soft, relaxing sort of atmosphere-is the everlasting nuisance along the whole western coasts. And it is easily accounted for. To our country, the Atlantic is the grand fountain of mists, which floating eastwards, are condensed, and fall as showers of rain, on coming in contact with the mountain-tops of Cornwall, Wales, and the Highlands. The Isle of Wight, lying snugly under the lee of the Cornish and other mountains on the west, and projected as far southward as the latitude of Boulogne (Ventnor is 50° 35'), escapes these fatal Atlantic mists, and those which come from the eastward are arrested by the intervening hills of Surrey and Sussex. But really the mists from either quarter have little to condense them in the island; for its low hills or downs are composed chiefly of chalk and sandstone, so dry and so rounded on their summits as

to present no powers of attraction. So much may be said regarding the climate of the Isle of Wight, generally; but of the part of the island to which we have specially to refer, a much higher character can be assigned. As is well known, the pleasantness and salubrity of a place depend greatly on two thingsexposure and shelter. The side of a valley facing the south will have the hue of summer even in the depth of winter, while the northern side lies bound in frost and snow. The sun-ah, what a glorious thing it is! In some countries, they have too much of it, but we cannot quite say that in England. Let us by all means have plenty of sun. There is medicine in its blessed rays, and let them shine on us all the day long. It will not do, however, to live under a glare of hot sunshine, while you are exposed to cold winds from an opposite direction. They quite understand this in Northern Italy, where, with sunshine and warmth, there are often cold winds from the mountains. On one occasion when at Nice, in the month of May, we found an intensely hot sun with a freezing wind from the north, forming an odd mixture of summer and winter. Visitors could venture out of doors only by keeping under the shelter of a row of buildings. That cured us of any very exalted notion of Nice as a resort for health-seekers. With a remembrance of such facts, it is not easy to overrate the Undercliff.

To have a correct idea of this curious bit of country, it would be necessary to go into a variety of geological details; but these we shall not inflict on the reader. It may be enough to say, that what with the chalky composition of the island, and also certain strata of underlying soft mouldering clay, the surface at all exposed parts has a tendency to slip down to a lower level. Along the southern shores, the white cliffs are in the course of being gradually undermined and washed away. When masses fall, they bring down huge lumps of sandstone, which get covered with sea-weed, or are broken up, and rolled about, and cast ashore as boulders. Ever since the Romans held the island-Vectis, as they called it-the land has been thus washing away, a matter which it seems nobody's business to look after. Here and there, the fall has been on so grand a scale as to materially alter the configuration of a district. Such is the case at Undercliff. The waves of the sea, or it may be land-springs, operating on the lower friable strata, have brought down a stretch of some ten miles, and produced a strange state of things. A hill or down of from 400 to 500 feet high, and stretching from east to west, may be said to have been split in two longitudinally. The side towards the south has sunk down, leaving a bared precipice, or range of sandstone cliffs. The breadth of the tumbled down mass varies from a few hundred yards to a quarter of a mile, and its surface is irregularly diversified with miniature hills and valleys, cliffy terraces, and sloping cultured banks. That this queer jumble will be permanent, is tolerably certain. In two or three places, the outer side has suffered fresh slips, but in the main, the Undercliff, as this long stretch is designated, has seemingly settled for all time. There are found on it two or three churches, with other buildings of considerable antiquity, and an infinite variety of fanciful villas. Commencing at Bonchurch, and extending to Blackgang, we have a region of almost unexampled beauty. Overhead, the hill and its severed cliffs facing the south, besides forming a natural shelter from the north, reflect the sun's heat down on a tangled maze of sylvan profusion-trees, shrubby knolls, grass of the richest and greenest, hedgerows, flowers, gardens, and banks of blossoming furze 'unprofitably gay.' Underneath a lofty part of the down, and where the broken ground is at the broadest, stands Ventnor, a town of modern date, comprising every variety of dwelling for the accommodation of visitors. Viewed from the sea,

OF POPULAR

LITERATURE

No. 391.

ON THE ROCK WITH GARIBALDI. FILLIBUSTERING-I speak of the better sort, whose object is fame or freedom-is very pleasant and exciting while it lasts, but is subject, like other grand delights, to very painful seasons of reaction. Your fillibuster who has done his wild work, no matter at what loss of ease, and time, and blood, and handed over to legitimate authority the prize for which he has been contending, is a lost, forgotten thing. A cracked bottle, a blunted razor, an empty sack, an exploded firework, are emblems of substantiality, brilliancy, and power, compared with him. It is not that the disbanded creature is not brave, honest, a good comrade, not content, nay, joyful, to have served Liberty for twopence a day, irregularly disbursed, or even to have waived altogether this last claim; it is simply that the man has no position,' or, if he have, it is that of an amateur thief-catcher, whose services, hailed with enthusiasm in the moment of need, become embarrassing so soon as the work is over. The regular police-force repudiate him with something like scorn; the public, individually, disown his disreputable acquaintance. He is a wild, rough creature, of violent habits and belligerent tastes. Thank him, somebody-and pitch him over!

Seeing how unpopular a garment the red shirt has suddenly become, a feeble-minded fillibuster might easily be betrayed into asking himself, whether there were not, in reality, something shameful and unworthy in making people free, and end by feeling rather grateful, upon the whole, that the liberated parties -more generous than the convicts in Don Quixote permitted their chain-breakers to escape without an actual pelting.

It was in some such mood as this that, wandering one February morning through the crowded ways of Genoa, it came into my mind to visit the island-home of my dear old general; and the purpose, once formed, becoming irresistible, I at once accomplished it.

There is a fortnightly communication between Genoa and La Madalena (one of the little communes of islands which includes Caprera) by means of the Dante, a small steamer of about two hundred tons, whose accommodations, though arranged principally with reference to the exportation of pigs, were good enough for a disbanded fillibuster. I was a little startled at the terms proposed for so short a voyage --forty-eight francs-but, sending a messenger later in the day, and finding that the price had sunk to thirty-seven, I came to the conclusion that the difference, eleven francs, was a fine in the nature of the ancient Jews' tribute, here levied upon red shirts,

PRICE 14d.

and, in high spirits at having evaded it, prepared eagerly for my trip.

I was fortunate in my companions. The cabin of the little Dante was occupied by a party consisting of Minotti Garibaldi, the hero's eldest son (the gallant youth, now about two-and-twenty, was severely wounded in the wrist and hand at Calatafimi); Basso, the general's secretary; Genesi, of the commissariat; a captain of Turr's Guides; and another gentleman of distinction named 'Fuoco' ('fire,' in the battle sense), whose four legs had been seen, in many a skirmish, trotting busily about in the very hottest of the element from which he derived his name. There were, besides, a few ex-volunteers for Madalena, and likewise a lady of Italian eye but German tongue, whose reasons for visiting Caprera were an object of some speculation. Her manners, certainly, had not that repose which distinguished the noble house of Vere de Vere, it being even necessary to call in authority to quell a wordy contest in which the fair pilgrim had rashly engaged with an intoxicated mariner.

Scarcely had we been three hours at sea, when certain little stops-let us call them commas-began to indicate some lurking disarrangement in our engine-room; presently occurred what might be termed a semicolon, of at least three-quarters of an hour; and, finally, a period or full stop, after which we put about, and returned to Genoa.

Repairs completed, in a few hours we sailed again. The next day was fair and bright, and we ran down the coast of Corsica with a fine breeze, so fine, that the discreet skipper popped into Porto Vecchio for the night, being now but thirty miles from our destination.

Inglese! Inglese!' said the voice of Minotti Garibaldi next morning (I felt an admonitory tug at my leg), Caprera !'

I was on deck in an instant. We were running into the harbour of the adjacent island, La Madalena, all whose maritime population seemed to be on the watch for us.

Madalena, whose four thousand inhabitants furnish many a stout sailor to that treacherous sea, boasts of a race entirely distinct from the Sards proper, their neighbours, and having, as it appeared to me, few characteristics in common with them. The aspect of the island, varied as it is by a line of broken picturesque heights, is not unattractive. An old fortress overlooks the harbour. In the latter, we found lying Alexandre Dumas's schooner-yacht, the Emma, and a small steamer, the Schneusa, placed at Garibaldi's orders, as a dispatch-boat. There were, besides, some ten or twelve stout fishing-vessels, of twenty or twenty-five tons each.