A Blood-Curdling Adventure.

Te Aroha News, Volume VII, Issue 471, 14 May 1890, Page 4

A Blood-Curdling Adventure.

E colonials, on the whole, 1 think, have Vtrsk!aW4%s/ more appreciation of St. Paul’s Cathedral than any other of the London sights. / -fpVJy Coming over from / Australia for a six f ' months’ visit, one of bhe first things I proiJ' mised myself was to see St. Paul’s. Y C J felt it impossible to go back and [_ r~\ face my friends it I could not say that i bad seen the Metropolitan I cathedral. First one thing intervened, and ! then another, until my last day in England had been reached. That last day I had kept clear of engagements purposely, but unfortunately a telegram arrived in the morning summoning me to Norwich, and it was eight o’clock in the evening before I reached Liverpool-street on the return journev. Now, I was bound to start for Brindisi the next day, and it seemed as if it were to be mv fate to miss the last chance of seeing St. Paul’s. Still I was determined, and a fast hansom put me down at the corner of St. Paul’s Churchyard. As I stood on the pavement looking up at the giant dome, the clock struck nine. The sun’ ha:! set, and high overhead the golden ball and cross stood out against the sky, still burnished by the evening glow. The traffic had slackened, t .ere. were but few pedestrians, and an occasional cab crawled by. The city seemed to sleep, and St. Paul’s was closely fastened up. Was I doomed only to see the outside? Bending back my neckandgazingupwards, Isawthat about the great golden ball was a tracery as of cobwebs, and men like flies were crawling about. Stout scaffolding and cables they were, no doubt, but from the street they appeared but trifling. After quickly walking round in vain search of an open door, I came to the end of the south transept; I spied a light. Presently I heard a door softly close, and a greyheaded old verger opened the iron grills. With all the eloquence of which lam master, 1 entreated him to let me into the sacred fane. He hesitated and shook his head. ‘Very well,’ he said, it is ‘ against the rules, but, as you say, it is a long way from Australia ; I’ll let you in if you don’t mind stopping inside tor an hour. I shall return then, but I must lock the door behind me. Do you still wish to go inside ? ’ Thanking him warmly, I said, ‘Certainly, yes.’ I got under the great dome, which hung like a luminous cloud above, full of hazy, uncertain shadows, a faint circle .of light flitting round the huge piers—white figures gleaming here and there in shadowy recesses, marble warriors, heroes, and statesmen. Under the dome in the great open space was a vast crowd of chairs, rush-bottomed, lashed together in rows looking eastwards. Choosing one of the most central of these I sat down and began to dream, peopling the area with a vast invisible congregation. In soft, long-drawn cadence, the bells of St Paul’s tolled out the hour of ten. I had been in the place an hour. I felt chilled and numbed. I walked briskly up and down an avenue between the chairs. I had seen enough, and wanted to get away from the scene of shadows. Looking upwards, a faint circle of light marked the soaring vault, and just above my head I saw a rope hanging down from the vast height above. Then I remembered the spider-webs I had seen outside above the ball and cross, and as I stood and listened I heard faint sounds of hammering and knocking. Men were at work hundreds of feet above ; lights shown hero and there, twinkling like stars. In years gone by I used to be a famous gymnast, and the sight of the rope hanging above me put me in mind of my former prowess. How many times, I wondered, could I, hanging on to the rope, draw my chin up to my knuckles? I leapt up and caught the rope. Once, twice, thrice. Drawing niyself up and down until I grew tired, I stretched myself, expecting to reach the ground with my toes. But I could not. Glancing below' me I saw that the flooring had vanished from under me. 1 was swinging suspended by my hands high up towards the dome ! If I had dropped at that moment 1 might have been safe, but I hesitated and was lost. Slowly and steadily the rope was being wound up. I shut my eyes. Was this a hideous delusion ? No; I looked down —the floor below was almost out of sight. There I swung, a tiny human speck half w T ay between heaven and earth. My muscles were wearied with the load. I made huge efforts to grasp the rope with my feet also, but impossible, I could not do it. I could, therefore, only hold on. I was now 7 on a level with the plinth that surmounts the great arches of the dome ; the colossal fresco figures seemed to mock my agony. I must be half-way up now could = I hold on to the end? But to my despair I now saw that the seeming dome was a false one, above which rose the real conical roof another hundred feet or more, and that through a vast round orifice, the sham dome, the rope was to ascend to the uppermost peak. In that moment of torture I saw that my fate was inevitable ; my muscles now were relaxing, my grasp would fail, in another minute I must fall and be dashed to pieces ! Confused thoughts whirled through my brain. In my mind’s eye I saw the" plains of grass, herds, and flocks in my far-off home. My limbs were relaxed, my senses almost deserted me. Voices, I thought, were calling me. I was slipping, slipping, slipping, and—l fell! . , ‘How do you feel, now, sir? was whispered close to my ear. Was it possible? Was I still alive? Yes, my brain was conscious. But my frame ? shattered, no doubt; a mere human wreck. I only dared to use my eyes, and yet I had no feeling of pain. An old man was bending over me, the same who bad admitted me; he had a wine-glass in his hand. A candle by his side formed a little chamber of light about us. ‘Am I knocked all to pieces ? Do say?’ I whispered. ‘I don’t think so, sir, you arc not hurt a bit. Bless you, sir, you only fell about three feet.’ I stretched out my arms ; they were all right, and my legs were sound. ‘How is this?’ I said, sitting up and looking about me. ‘ I thought I was carried up into the dome ?’ ‘ And so you were. You’d have been a dead man by this, but just in the nick of time I came back. I don’t suppose I should have noticed you because of the light, but I caught sight of your body against the gilding, and then you give a sort of moan. Says I, “ There's death here if I don’t think of something at once.” Then I recollected hearing that the workmen chaps whistled three times when they wanted the rope lowered, so I piped away and the rope began to come down. I shouted to you to hold on and keep your heart up, but you didn’t seem to hear nothing. When your feet came within a yard of the floor you quivered and fell in a dead faint. But what were you about, to let them draw you up like that?’ I explained my gymnastic feats. ‘Oh, I see, you shook the rope. That’s the signal to pull up, and up they pulled. The men are working double shifts now, and in a hurry to get finished.’ When I left St Paul’3 Cathedral that evening, I felt weak and nerveless, as if I j had gone through a long illness. I have I written this true and unvarnished account

of my mishap as an outlet to my feelings I did not talk much about St Paul’s when J returned to the antipodes.