Having reached the Light-house, and ascended its steep and rocky stairs, the steps of which number 80, you may gaze, from the summit, on the wilderness of waters around; observe the myriads of gulls and guillemots, standing on the edge of the rocks, or flying about in all directions; see the Telegraph, and gaze upon the ever-varying ocean, enlivened by numerous vessels passing up or down the channel. On returning, a little exertion will be required to scale the towering acclivity, but the labour is not felt between the bracing effects of the atmosphere, and the excitement. An occasional moment’s pause, for breathing purposes, will afford the visitor a fine opportunity for inhaling the balmy and invigorating air; and I would advise the visitor to draw long breaths for the pleasure of it. Previous to the erection of this Light-house, scores of vessels had, from time to time, been on shore at the back of the Head, in many of which instances all on board had perished; but since its erection it has been the means of saving from destruction several valuable lives, and many hundred thousand pounds’ worth of property. SOUTH STACK—BY WATER. Rocks, Which raise their crested heads into the clouds, Piled in sublimity, create a scene More grand, more soothing to the pensive soul Than Rome with all its splendour. Almost at all hours of the day the service of steady and experienced watermen may be engaged at the Harbour. The little pinnace, with its white sail, will soon be ready to convey you on your cruise. I scarcely need remark, that in order to enjoy the trip, the atmosphere must be clear and the weather calm. The Tourists having taken their seats in their snug boat, will no sooner have given the well-known signal, “all right,” than the stout seamen will take to their oars, with long and strong pulls, and in a few minutes they will find themselves smoothly gliding on the crystal flood, across the beautiful and spacious Bay; and should the boatmen be in merry mood, they may enliven the scene by singing MY NATIVE BAY. My Native Bay is calm and bright, As ere it was of yore, When, in the days of hope and love, I stood upon its shore; The sky is glowing, soft, and blue, As once in youth it smiled, When summer seas and summer skies Were always bright and mild. The sky—how oft hath darkness dwelt Since then upon its breast; The sea—how oft have tempests broke Its gentle dream of rest! So oft hath darker wo come o’er Calm self-enjoying thought; And passion’s storms a wilder scene Within my bosom wrought. Now, after years of absence, passed In wretchedness and pain, I come and find those seas and skies All calm and bright again. The darkness and the storm from both Have trackless passed away; And gentle as in youth, once more Thou seem’st my Native Bay.