LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VI, Issue 607, 30 May 1876, Page 3

LITERATURE.

WESTCHESTER TOWER. Some years ago, I had occasion to make a short trip ftorn London, to visit my old college friend, Maitland, who had settled down as a clergyman in connection with the cathedral of Westchester. It was a pleasant excursion, chiefly by railway, and I was hospitably entertained. After dinner, my friend and I walked out in the dusk of the evening, to look at the antiquities of the place. In the course of our ramble, the moon rose, and threw a charm over the scene. With the moonlight streaming through the coloured windows, we sauntered through the ancient cathedral, enjoying the solemnity of the edifice. As we approached the gates of the choir, Maitland, though accustomed to the place, became singularly silent. All at once, he called on me to notice that we were standing under the main central tower, and that in that vaulted dome overhead was a round black spot. 'You see that dark spot,' said he : •it is a covered hole opening up into the tower. It is sometimes used for the hauling up of lead and timber for repairs on the roof. I call your attention to it now, because I am going to tell you something about it by-and-by. Seated once more at the fireside of my bachelor friend, I listened to what he had to say about the hole in the tower. I will try to repeat his story as he told it to me. f I suppose it must be about five years ago, soon after I came to the cathedral, that I was engaged one evening in this room, writing, when I had occasion to refer to a book not in my possession, but which I knew to be accessible to me in the cathedral library. To procure the work, I sallied out with a lantern; and i had not gone very far when I was assailed by a cheery shout from Symes—Geoffrey gSyuies—-an Oxford man, who had been my junior at Oriel. Symes was a little eccentric. He had taken a fairish degree, and might have done well, but, being passionately fond of music, he took to studying the organ; and this had brought him to Westchester, as a professed pupil of the organist. As such, he was allowed to have constant access to the instrument—one of wonderful compass —in the cathedral.

' Symes would not, perhaps, have been called a scientific musician ; but he had a wonderful gift of expressing thought and feeling on the organ, which he almost made to speak, so extraordinary was his power in bringing out effects. When engaged in this way, he seemed to be lost in an enthusiastic ardour. He wildly revelled in musical sounds. On this occasion he seemed to resolve on a display of powers. Rushing away for. a few minutes, he brought little Jim Oxley, son of the verger, to blow the bellows ; and, with this necessary aid, he set to work, and produced a voluntary that was altogether marvellous, and the effect of which was enhanced by the darkness. Wellknown passages from great masters were skilfully wielded with harmonious links into one another. One, however, a favourite of his as I knew, was complete, and alone —the "Quando Corpus," from Rossini's Stabat Mater. I could compare it to nothing but the strenuous forging together of solid bars of melody, so severe, so nervous, so weighty, was the working out of the theme. And last of all, with most ravishing sweetness, cairn the exquisite Duet and Chorus from Mendelssohn's Lobgesang, "I waited for the Lord :" and as those delicate silvery strains of patience and thankfulness streamed into one another, and melted at last with the chorus into the great tide of praise, I was unconscious of anything but the music, and could have stayed there without further thought till the morning. ' I was aroused from my ecstacy by little Jim, who had been blowing the bellows all this time, asking me if he might go home, as his father did not know where he was. I let him out; and as the door fell behind him, I heard the low, dying wail of the organ, as Symes struck one or two ineffectual notes, and exhausted its last breath. He came down and joined me; and as I was taking up my book and lantern, previous to our departure, he suddenly cried : "Hollo! that tower-hole is open. Just fancy looking down through there into the nave."

"Yes," said I; "I daresay it would be very pretty ; in the meanwhile, I am going home, however." "All right," said Symes. "Lend me your lantern, and I'll bid you good night." "Why, what are you going to doV" 1 said.

" Going up into the tower," he replied. 'ln vain I tried to dissuade him, using every argument to represent to him the folly, * the uselessness, the danger of such a proceeding. Good-humourecUy but obstinately, he threw asidejmy remonstrances ; and when at last I found him resolved, I made up my mind reluctantly, and not in the best of humours, to accompany him on his fool's errand. Thank God that I didn't leave him alone, as I had intended !

'•I was little disposed, however, to respond to hiß lively sallies, as I followed him into the staircase which led to the tower. The lantern was of little use to us as we climbed the worn steps. A cold strip of moonlight came through an open slit in the wall now and then, but otherwise we were in the dark. After some few minutes' ascent, we came to a doorway that led over the top of the transept arch under the leads of the roof. Begging Symes to look about him and to tread carefully, I passed after him through the darkness into the main tower. From where we stood, the upper side of the dome-like ceiling of the centre of the nave between the transepts, rose like an inverted cup before us; and at the apex of the dome, through the opening which had suggested this wayward undertaking, the moonlight streamed dimly up into the darkness of the tower. To carry out his purpose, Symes now proceeded to crawl up the dome, in order to look down through the orifice. I knew it was of no avail to say anything, so I stood and watched him with anxiety, as he leane 1 over the verge of the chasm. ' As I gazed, I became aware that immediately above the opening a stout rope was swinging, to which was attached a large hook. I remembered that some repairs had been going on for a few days on the roof of the cathedral, and that I had seen one or two rolls of lead wound up through the hole on the previous day. These thoughts were passing through my mind, when Symes, catching hold of the rope, jerked it, to ascertain that it was fastened above, and leaned forward with his weight upon it, as he looked downwards with exclamations of delight. " Come up, sir, and see ;do !" he cried. " Jt's worth all the trouble of a climb."

' I was just about to creep up, that I might share his gratification, when a sudden whirring, grating sound of wheels above— a gasping exclamation—a scuffling snatch with his feet, at the hedge of the hole, and before I could move, I saw the poor fellow disappear rapidly through the opening, as the rope uncoiled itself with increasing velocity from the winch overhead. It flashed across me in a moment. The handle of the winch had been imperfectly secured; the jerk and the subsequent weight had overcome the resistance, and trusting wholly to the rope, he had slipped from his footing. The hope occurred to me, that the evident resistance which still restrained the free revolutions of the winch might prevent the descent being so rapid as to endanger life or limb ; so that he would possibly lind in safety with only a severe fright and shaking. These thoughts crowded pell-mell upon my mind, at the first shock of surprise. But, conceive my horror, when, with a loud jar, the noise of the wheels ceased, and the rope no longer descended. 1 How I started ! He has let go, thought I, and listened breathlessly, in sickening expectation of the crash which I conceived must follow. But all was still; and mechanically I crawled up to the edge of the hole and leaned over, thinking to see his crushed body in a ghastly heap below me. "No ! About five-and-twenty feet down, vibrating in sheer space, was suspended my poor friend, at a height of at least fifty feet above the stone flooring of the nave. He was in the very midst of the stream of light that poured through the clerestory windows. In some way or another, he had relieved the strain upon his hands by getting his leg over the end of the rope. I called to him to hold fast for a while, and to keep up his courage; but I never shall forget his despairing eyes, nor the hoarse agonising whisper that replied : "I can't hold on! I'm numbed. Loose the winch! Be quick, for God's sake !" 'Waiting for no further suggestion, I rushed back again to the staircase, and found in the darkness, almost by intuition, the steps which led still upwards, and hastened to mount them. Once or twice, as I panted in the ascent, I remember that I came to the edge of a sheer depth, and drew back, scarcely conscious of the danger. I listened intently for any sound from below, but heard nothing; and at length, in what must have been an incredibly short space of time, breathless and gasping, I emerged on the rough uneven flooring of the higher story of the tower. Trembling, I crept carefully forward to the centre of the space, and found the winch standing over an opening corresponding to the one below. I eagerly looked down, and could just see that something was still suspended in the now partially obscured * light. I shouted again and again words of encouragement and hope ; but there was no reply. With a sickening thrill, I set to work to examine the winch, and found, as I supposed, that the handle had been entangled in the coils of a rope, from which I had some difficulty, in the darkness, in extricat ing it. But once released, I allowed it to revolve slowly, until I felt that there was no further strain upon it. Scarcely, however, had the assurance of Symes's security dawned upon me as a possibility, when a deadly faintness crept over me, and 1 think for a minute or two I lost consciousness. ' How I succeeded in getting down without disaster through that perilous labyrinth, I can form no idea, nor have I any recollection. I remember devoutly thanking God, as I stepped out from the door of the transept on to the floor of the nave. " Here I am, old fellow !" I cried aloud to Symes, and sprang forward into the open space. 'There was no reply. My heart beat violently ! Could he have gone home, and left me there ? The moonbeams had sloped farther up the building, leaving the centre aisle in deep gloom. Creeping forward in vague terror, I almost stumbled over the body of my friend, apparently lifeless, but still clinging to the rope. With trembling haste, I disentangled his limbs, and drew him on to the mat beside the verger's bench, where I left him for a moment, while I rushed to fetch assistance. But concfive again my blank despair, when I found the door, which shut with a spring, locked, and the key—l couldn't tell where ! I had probably laid it down in some forgetful moment, and I was locked in, with a man dying or dead under my charge. [ To be continued.']