The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1891-12-04
LIFE IN A LIGHTHOUSE.
CONFINEMENT ON A LITTLE ISLAND
OFF THE MAINE COAST.

A Rather Forbidding Place Where q
Handful of People Work Every Day and
Night and Are Happy-A Community
That Has Few Neighbors and Visitors.
Straight out of the sea that washes the
coast of Maine, off the mouth of the Ken
nebec river, rises small island which is
mass of rock, tree fringed, but black look
ing. From its top for over a century has
cleaned a light for coasting vessels and
ships, making for the Kennebec river. The
tower where the bright eye shines from
twilight till sunrise is 200 feet above the
face of the ocean when it is calm, and its
streaming path of yellow beams is seen for
miles by those who sail under the stars
while the rest of the world sleeps.
There is no more rugged, dangerous
coast along the seaboard of Maine than
here, and when southeast gale RACES the
waves pound on the cliffs and reefs with
roar that goes rumbling up the quiet Ken
nebec or breaks family among the pine
forests inland.
In summer the sea is dazzling in it's
CLASSY smoothness until it rolls in where q
broad beach stretches below Fort Popham,
and curving, breaks in a shower of foam,
flashing with salt drops under the hot sun
rays. Then the coast is picturesquely
beautiful and quiet. Summer cottages
showing on the slopes and heights, or
nearer down where the beach runs away to
shelve through the foam frosted breakers
into the sparkling blue, are pleasingly
peaceful, and the veranda and shade look
attractive to those who are skirting along
without on the heat rejecting water.
You can see on the paths trailing over
the cliff, among trees and fern grown
rocks, or the ample foliage of shrubs or
bushes, the gay colors of women's summer
gowns. At the base of the cliff, on drip
ping, black faced rocks, moro of them are
walking, where the water comes up to
their feet. There is not a great deal Of
life; just enough to show the stranger that
there are people who enjoy life of this sort,
and who are content to get away from the
busy rush of cities or the feverish heat of
fashions favorite summer places.
THE LIGHTHOUSE IN WINTER.
But when fall is turning into bleak win
ter 1t is all very different. Storms tear up
the shining beach and strip the cliff of its
foliage. They send the ocean straight up
like gray wall, laundering against the
grim heights. They batter down project
ing rocks and send avalanches of white
whirling foam and deep colored water with
asweeping rush over the black topped reefs
and the rock points. The fair weather
visitors have fled weeks before from the
unforbidding place, but just as in summer,
when the ocean was placid and the shore
was brilliant in color, the bright light over
on Seguin'stern rock shines steadily every
night, only through blacker night and
across high swelling water.
81 don't find it SO lonely here in winter
as you might Think said the keeper to
the writer one summer. you see have
my wife and family here and the two as
sistant keepers, and one of them is mar
ried. We make good working communi-
ty and get along very nicely together.
You see how comfortable / am. We have
pleasant home. 1t isn't a palace, but
there is one thing about Tits founda-
lions are solid. 1t won't blow away if
little breeze should spring up, and we do
have breezes once in awhile" he added
with quiet smile.
"Of course it is pretty hard to get to
shore in winter. The winds are terrific and
the seas run high, and when heavy storm
sets in getting across is out of the question.
But in those times we are kept pretty busy.
You see it's big job to keep the light
clean. There's all that glass and then
there are the lights themselves. We have
to watch them carefully. 1t wouldn't do
to have anything happen to the light" he
said seriously. Vessels would go astray
for miles around and no one knows what
would happen.
LIFE ON AN ISLAND.
when we have storm with fog and
sleet there is more to do than to look after
the light. We get up steam and the old
fog horn bowls all night and all day. It
makes an awful noise, but we like it. We
have two boilers to make steam and two
horns, in case of accident.
Lighthouses are expensive. Lots of oil
and miles of wick are used, but they save
millions of dollars every year. Then it
gets chilly up here" he added, with a
twinkle in his eye. SIT takes good deal
of coal to keep warm. If you are in need
of exercise when the weather is unusually
nasty you can get it climbing these stairs
up into the tower when you are attending
to the light. It's nice job up and down,
and you can take it as often as you like.
Some nights up here, when a gale is
bowling, something happens which makes
your heart come up in your throat, no
matter how used you are to it. You will
hear sudden thud on the glass where the
gale has swept gull or a shore bird
through the air, until, seeing the light, it
to turn it's course and is thrown
up against the glass. Yes, it kills them.
Sometimes they 1utter weakly against it
and then slip down and are killed In the
fall. 1t makes one sorry for them, but you
can't save them. They are on the outside
and you are in.
1--WE live very well here; have good
little farm on this rock, You see it's hard
ly more than a rock, but we have the sur
face of it under cultivation. There's our
garden, and we raise corn, good potatoes
and vegetables. 1t gives US pleasant work
in the summer and a good store of luxuries
to draw ON in winter.
"Accidentsi Well, last winter slipped
on the Ice and went off that cliff there. 1t
was long fall, and the only thing that
saved me was that landed among the ice
and snow covered branches of the trees
over 100 feet below. They stuck holes into
me until I was sieve, and when they
found me ! had half dozen ribs broken,
but you see Pm all right now. New York
Tribune.