Fortunately the great stone had not toppled completely over, or it would have crashed down a precipice into the sea, but it had stuck wedged in a crevice of the rock below. By means of strong beams, chains, pulleys, and capstans, and a hard week’s work for a number of men, it was replaced, although it is said never to have regained its former balance. The lieutenant was nearly ruined by it, and is said not to have completely paid the cost of this reparation at the day of his death. About eleven miles from the Land’s End there lies a dark porphyry rock, the highest point of which rises seventeen feet above low water. It is called “The Wolf,” and previous to the construction of a sea‐tower upon it no rock had been more fatal to the mariner. It is beaten by a terrific sea, being exposed to the full force of the Atlantic, and it lies just in the track of vessels entering or leaving the channel. In 1860 the Trinity House commenced the erection of a lighthouse on it, 116 feet high, with a revolving dioptric light. “The first flash,” said a leading journal, “from the Wolf Lighthouse was shot forth on the 1st of January, 1870, and within the last ten years it is difficult to calculate what good it has done, by standing like a beneficent monitor in the centre of the greatest highway for shipping in the world.” The Wolf light flashes alternately red and white at half‐minute intervals. A great authority on the subject, Sir William Thomson, however, expostulates vigorously against all revolving lights, asserting that, for example, the Wolf is more difficult “to pick up,” in nautical parlance, than the fixed beacon of the Eddystone. [Illustration: THE LIZARD LIGHT.]