In 1886 the pier tower was taken out of her hands for ever. A furious gale, such as is peculiar to these inland seas, and which cannot be rivalled on the ocean for fury, was raging. At dusk she started on her usual journey. Time after time she was wellnigh swept off her feet, so that she staggered rather than walked, for the spray and sand flecking her face nearly blinded her. When she gained the tower she paused, and observed that it was trembling violently. Undismayed, she ascended, lit the light, and tramped back to the shore. Scarcely had she gained the mainland, when, glancing seawards, she saw the light sway from side to side for a second or two, and then make a dive into the water. A few moments later a crash reverberated above the noise of the storm: the decrepit pier had succumbed at last. Hers was a lucky escape, but she hurried home, and sat by the main light gleaming from her roof all that night, apprehensive that some vessel might endeavour to make the harbour and come to grief. When the pier was rebuilt, a new beacon was placed on its extremity, but its upkeep was taken over by the harbour authorities, leaving only the shore light in the trusty woman’s keeping, the wicks of which for over forty years were trimmed and lit at dusk, and extinguished with the dawn, with her own hands. During the migratory season of the birds extraordinary sights are witnessed around the light at night. The brilliant glare attracts enormous flocks, which flit to and fro. As the monster flaming spoke swings round, the birds, evidently blinded by the glare, dash with such fury against the glass panes of the lantern as to flutter to the floor of the gallery with broken necks and wings, while large numbers, dazed or killed, fall into the water. The birds are of all species, and at times may be picked up by the basketful. Then the light-keepers are able to secure a welcome change in their dietary. Moths, too, often hover in clouds round the light, and are of such variety that an hour on the gallery would bring infinite delight and rich harvests to the youthful entomologist who has to be content to hunt around electric lamps in quiet streets at night.