For example, says Mr. Stevenson, although quarries are to be generally met with in these islands, and the stones are very suitable for building dykes, yet instances occur of the land being enclosed, even to a considerable extent, with ship-timbers. A park[33] might be seen paled round, chiefly with cedar-wood and mahogany from the wreck of a Honduras-built ship;[34] and in one island, after the loss of a ship laden with wine, the inhabitants took claret to their barley-meal porridge, instead of their usual beverage. When Mr. Stevenson complained to one of the pilots of the badness of his boat’s sails, he replied, with grim humour, “Had it been God’s will that you came na here wi’ these lights, we might a’ had better sails to our boats, and more o’ other things.” A much higher rent was given for the farms than they were absolutely worth, in consideration of the profits that would probably accrue from wrecks on their respective shores. [33] A “park,” _Scottice_ for a “field.” [34] Is it necessary to remind the reader that Honduras, on the Bay of Campeachy, is famous for its mahogany? Under these circumstances it was deemed advisable to convert the North Ronaldshay lighthouse into a beacon, and the Start Point beacon into a lighthouse, both transformations being successfully effected in the course of the year 1805; and the light exhibited on Start Point, January 1st, 1806. * * * * * Continuing our brief chronological resumé, we find that, for the better navigation of the noble estuary of the Forth, a lighthouse was erected on the island of Inchkeith—which lies nearly opposite the town of Portobello on the south shore, and Burntisland on the north—in 1805. Its base is 175 feet above the sea, and the building itself measures 45 feet in height. The light is a revolving one. We now come to a description and historical account of the celebrated lighthouse to which this chapter is more particularly devoted. Pharos _loquitur_. “Far in the bosom of the deep O’er these wild shelves my watch I keep, A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of Night: The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail.” Sir Walter Scott.[35] [35] Written by the great novelist in the Album of the Lighthouse, when he visited it in 1816. [Illustration: INCHKEITH LIGHTHOUSE.]