seen from our elevation, is of a number of rectangular enclosures, each about the size of an ordinary bowling-green, with well-defined walls, the whole under a heavy coating of snow, with each corner marked by a snow-laden tree. At high water--the sea having flowed about twelve or fifteen feet on the building by that time--the waves, generally unbroken, slip past harmlessly; an hour before or after high water is when we experience the heaviest shocks, for then the depth of water is such that the waves are arrested by the rock when close to the tower, and their whole volume flung violently against the building. The effect of such weather on the tower must be felt to be understood. The nearest description I can give of the seas striking is as if a log of wood were hurled by each sea, striking end on, and a short, sharp, tremulous motion--sufficient to rattle the crockery in the kitchen cupboard--is imparted to the tower by each impact. This tremor is more particularly felt when the gale subsides and the heavy swell sets in, for when the gale is at its height, the seas are so broken and tossed about that their assaults are but feeble in comparison with those of the long curly-headed combers of the after-swell. The bell-shaped formation of the base of the tower is admirably adapted for withstanding the assaults of the sea, and is built solid to a height of thirty feet, above which the seas never strike, though I have seen the spray carried right over our balcony, a hundred feet from the rock. That the building remains to all appearance as intact as when completed, almost a century ago, speaks volumes for the skill and ingenuity displayed in its erection. In weather such as I have described we are as completely cut off from outside assistance as though we were at the North Pole; indeed, it is doubtful if there is another situation--save similar ones, of course--where men could live so comfortable and unconcerned and yet remain for the time being so completely “ungetatable.” _DECEMBER 1901._