To mitigate the rigours of so strange a profession, the Trinity Board provides that each man shall pass one month on shore for every two months he spends on board; while the captain and the mate change places every month. But grim old Neptune does not always permit this system of reliefs to be regularly carried out. It often happens in winter that the storm and the tide are opposed to every kind of disembarkation; and between the lightship and the Scilly Islands, for instance, weeks elapse before the communication can be re-established. The men ashore are occupied in cleaning cables, painting buoys, filling the oil tins, and similar duties. We know not whether what was acknowledged by an old lightship “hand” is true of all; that all the time he was on land, he dreamed of the sea; all the time he was on board the lightship, he dreamed of the land. The visitor of an English lightship cannot fail to be struck with its admirable condition, and with the fine appearance of its crew. Sun-tanned and weather-beaten, they are models of English sailors: frank, self-reliant, unassuming, obedient, nimble, vigorous, and resolute. They seem well-contented with their lot, and if they complain at all, it is of the quantity and quality of their provisions. The ration of bread (seven pounds a week) is not quite sufficient for hearty men, and I confess, from my own experience, that the sharp air to which they are exposed is well adapted to whet one’s appetite. When they are at sea, their food is supplied by the Trinity House; when on shore, they receive instead one shilling and threepence a day. Their wages are fifty-five shillings per month; the master receives £80 per annum. Two men at a time are charged with the care of the lamps, the third being on shore; one of these two performs for a month the functions of a cook. Formerly, if we may believe public rumour, the lightship crews, isolated by continual tempests which rendered the sea impracticable, have been reduced to the extremest necessities, have even perished of hunger. To prevent the recurrence of such calamities, a steamboat or a good stout sailing-vessel regularly visits the lightship once a month. In the worst weather the communication is never interrupted for a longer period than six weeks, and the stock of provisions is always sufficient to last the crew for even a longer time. The lanterns in which the lamps are fixed are hung round the mast; during the day they are lowered on deck that they may be cleaned, and supplied afresh with oil; at night, this crown of lights is raised to its conspicuous position by means of a pulley. The ship is also provided with some small cannon and a gong. But, unfortunately, these signals are not always comprehended by foreign ships.