Explore "At Mat Aris Light" by John Arthur Barry on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
My friend Harding was head-keeper of one of the finest lighthouses in the world, and I was free of it at all hours. But it was o' nights that I loved best to join the old man on his watch, and sit on the balcony and gaze out at the great ocean illumined at minute intervals by the flood of white radiance that seemed to pour forth a greeting to the silent ships as they passed and repassed, or came straight for the harbour-mouth.
Harding was a square-built, gray-haired man with a strong, determined face, all browned and wrinkled by sun and storm, and eyes that burned like live coals under shaggy white brows.