s of that busy
spot.

The workyard at Arbroath, where the stones for the lighthouse were
collected and hewn into shape before being sent off to the rock, was an
enclosed piece of ground, extending to about three-quarters of an acre,
conveniently situated on the northern side of the Lady Lane, or Street,
leading from the western side of the harbour.

Here were built a row of barracks for the workmen, and several
apartments connected with the engineer's office, mould-makers'
department, stores, workshops for smiths and joiners, stables, etcetera,
extending 150 feet along the north side of the yard. All of these were
fully occupied, there being upwards of forty men employed permanently.

Sheds of timber were also constructed to protect the workmen in wet
weather; and a kiln was built for burning lime. In the centre of the
yard stood a circular platform of masonry on which the stones were
placed when dressed, so that each stone was tested and marked, and each
"course" or layer of the lighthouse fitted up and tried, before being
shipped to the rock.

The platform measured 44 feet in diameter. It was founded with large
broad stones at a depth of about 2 feet 6 inches, and built to within 10
inches of the surface with rubble work, on which a course of neatly
dressed and well-jointed masonry was laid, of the red sandstone from the
quarries to the eastward of Arbroath, which brought the platform on a
level with the surface of the ground. Here the dressed part of the
first entire course, or layer, of the lighthouse was lying, and the
platform was so substantially built as to be capable of supporting any
number of courses which it might be found convenient to lay upon it in
the further progress of the work.

Passing this platform, the captain and Ruby threaded their way through a
mass of workyard _debris_ until they came to the building from which the
sounds of the anvil proceeded. For a few minutes they stood looking at
our old friend Jamie Dove, who, with bared arms, was causing the sparks
to fly, and the glowing metal to yield, as vigorously as of old.
Presently he ceased hammering, and turning to the fire thrust the metal
into it. Then he wiped his brow, and glanced towards the door.

"What! eh! Ruby Brand?" he shouted in surprise.

"Och! or his ghost!" cried Ned O'Connor, who had been appointed to
Ruby's vacant situation.

"A pretty solid ghost you'll find me," said Ruby with a laugh, as he
stepped forward an