is put across the shoulders of the man or woman who has to drag the sledge. Their sledges are sometimes dragged by dogs, but not unfrequently by women. The In some parts of the United States of America, and Canada, the winters are generally long and severe. following notice of a winter scene in the populous city of New York has just now appeared in some of the newspapers: "A fall of snow in New York, three weeks since, set all the city on runners." That is, on sledges, which they call "sleighs." "In Broadway, (which is the principal street, and leading thoroughfare,) the fun soon grew 'fast and furious,' and the great thoroughfare presented an exciting and varied scene, not excelled by the merriest carnival display seen either in Rome, or upon the Rialto. The centre of the street was occupied by one unbroken line of stage sleighs. A person standing at one point, and glancing to the right or left, became almost bewildered with the variety of robes, winter dresses, blooming faces, cheers and merry greetings, which saluted his eyes and ears. The well matched horses, decorated with strings of burnished bells and polished harness, looked very fine. Private sleighs were drawn, some by one horse, and others by two, in tandem style, but the majority of the stagesleighs were drawn by six horses. Noon, evening, and midnight, the scene was the same. The sides of the stagesleighs were filled with people, and every jolt, jam, or other incident, produced bursts of laughter." Since the preceding was written, we have seen sledges running on the snow, in the town of Hull. LIGHTHOUSES. LIGHTHOUSES, for the benefit of mariners, to guard them from dangers in the night, or to guide them safely into port, date their origin from a remote period. The towers of Sestos and Abydos, or "the castles of the Dardanelles," -are examples. The most remarkable of ancient lighthouses was that of Pharos, upon an island near Alexandria; esteemed as one of the wonders of the world. An account of which was given in the "Juvenile Companion" for last year, page 169. Since the erection of Pharos, lighthouses have become numerous, and are more effectively conducted. I have long felt a lively interest in gazing on lighthouses. I well remember the feelings of which I was the subject, when watching a succession of these brilliant lights upon board a steamer, during a long and darksome night. First came the "floating-lights," or vessels strongly moored near some dangerous sandbank or shallow, to warn the helmsman to keep his barque in deeper water. Then appeared the stationary, or first light on the shore. In the distance, it seemed like a star on the bosom of the ocean, and long, very long it detained the attention, until nearer and nearer it shed its blaze of light upon the reflective deep. Then, anxiously I watched its receding, till it vanished into the dim visions of the past; or until another arose on the horizon to arrest the sleepless eye. Sometimes two lights appeared together, and at one time three, cross-like, started with full splendour upon the dark shrouds of the vessel, illuminating surrounding objects with their brilliancy:-then revolving, and sometimes coloured lights diversified the scene. But with what cheerfulness did I gaze upon the last in view, that spoke of the mouth of the peaceful harbour, and of the welcome landing-place! The night with all its glimmering aids yielded at length to the full glory of the greater light that rules the day. These friendly lights have preserved the lives of very many thousands of exposed seamen, from rugged rocks and sunken shoals. How brilliantly they shine upon a moonless night! On many a rocky prominnence, sometimes on the shore, and somtimes on some dangerous ledge, far out at sea, stands the friendly lighthouse. "And as the ev'ning darkens, lo! how bright, Through the deep purple of the twilight air, And the great ships sail outward and return, And ever joyful as they see it burn, They waive their silent welcomes and farewells. And with your floating bridge, the ocean span; In my wanderings in the county of Cornwall, east and west, and north and south, I have frequently found pleasure in observing the first appearance of some well-known 'light." On the northern coast, the "Lundy light," from a house erected on an island in the Bristol Channel, was the object of friendly greetings. If welcome to the landsmen through many a weary mile upon the bleak and rugged coast, how much more so to the solitary watch upon that most dangerous sea. In the eastern part and on the southern shore, the "Eddystone-light" has often directed my thoughts to sympathy and prayer, and profitable meditation. This light emanates from a house erected on the "Eddystone-rocks." These consist of three principal ridges, extending 600 or 700 yards in length, covered at the flood-tide with water, but dry at the ebb. These rocks are subjected to the violence of very heavy swells from the Atlantic ocean and the Bay of Biscay, which formerly occasioned very dreadful accidents to vessels in the channel. This led to the erection of a lighthouse upon the rocks in the year 1696; but it was afterwards swept into the deep, with its architect enclosed, by an unparalleled hurricane, and most tremendous and destructive storm. In 1708 a second lighthouse was completed, of a better structure, and more solid material than the former, which endured the violence of many storms for upwards of forty-six years, but was at last most unfortunately destroyed by fire. The present structure was commenced in 1757, by Mr. Smeaton, and its light rekindled in the middle of October 1759. Its form was suggested by observing the figure of the oak. It has therefore a swelling base rising into a perpendicular, which again swells out towards the top, and is surmounted by an octagonal lantern composed of cast-iron and copper. In this the light has ever since been preserved, and probably thousands of beings have been indebted for their preservation from death to its nightly aid: "Stedfast, serene, immutable, the same Year after year, through all the silent night, My rambles are now confined to the western part of this mineral county; and the "Lizard-lights," no less important than the Eddystone, have drawn my present contemplations. The "Lizard" is the name of the most southern promontory and cape of the county of Cornwall, and of England; as the "Land's End," is the most western; and the Lizard might dispute the honour of being the grand terminus of British highways. Two light-houses connected with each other by lower buildings, and a covered way, stand on an elevated part of the promontory. Two lanterns of plate-glass, set in iron, surmount the two towers; in the centre of which an iron frame-work supports nineteen Argand lamps in two circular rows, each having a larger conclave reflexion made of copper plated with silver. Externally, the buildings are kept very clean and bright with whitewash, so as to form an excellent landmark by day. Two light-keepers divide the duties of the night in trimming the lamps, and the light is so excellent that, to a a considerable distance, as a friend has described it, “you may see to pick up a pin." The duty of three men by day is to supply the oil, and polish the reflectors. I sauntered near them one evening as the lights were beginning to appear, and was much pleased in observing the keepers going round to wipe the outward glass that no mist or pollution should obscure the light. After the lamps are lighted, the keepers alone are allowed to be in or near the lanterns, as a temporary obscuration of the light might be of fatal consequence to some distant vessel, though itself unseen. Formerly the towers were not connected, and the light produced was that of large coal-fires. This was a difficult, dangerous, and uncertain mode. We are told that during the wars, through the negligence of the lightkeeper, the fire had sunk so low as to be hardly visible. A government packet was sailing by at the time, the captain of which roused the sleepy watchman by firing a cannon-ball at the dim light. Happily no mischief was done, but the slumberer was effectually reminded of his duty. At present the duty is attended to by pious men, who carefully attend to their regulations, and thereby maintain a constant brilliant light. This sometimes has a strange effect upon aerial passengers "The sea-bird wheeling round it with the din Dashes himself against the glare and dies." But whilst these lights may be the unfortunate cause of the death of some bewildered birds, how often have they preserved the life of many a poor bewildered mariner upon the dark and billowy ocean. May they therefore long shine upon that troubled sea, at least, until more brilliant lights shall shine along our coasts; and, in the meanwhile, may brighter "lights" than earth can yield, conduct us over the tempestuous billows of this present life safe to the blissful shores of eternity, where "The heaven of glory is our landing-place." Whilst, therefore, these "lights" have afforded us much pleasure, in contemplating the humanity and benevolence, as well as skill and policy, which have erected them, it has been to us also, "far more interesting" to observe the effects of the Gospel in the erection upon our coasts, and in our sea-ports, and elsewhere, of spiritual lighthouses designed to guide the wandering into the way of peace. It is thought by some expositors, that the apostle refers to the lighthouse of Pharos, when, in writing to the Philippians, he describes them as shining "as lights in the world: holding forth the word of life." The church at Philippi was the first on the coast of Europe; and since then churches have been raised in many parts of the same continent; and our own happy island abounds with these churches, which are holding forth, more or less clearly, "the word of life." What a sad state the world would |