Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1884-10-16
THE HERO OF THE TOWER.
Will CARLETON, IN HARPER's MAGAZINE


Which the old Mayor sat up nights TO learn
"a needy poet wrote the same for him).
No maiden huttered through the narrow streets
That pondered not what ribbons she should
wear;
No window on the long processlon's route
But had its tenants long engaged ahead.
But the old sexton of st. Joseph's Church
Moped dull and sulky through the smiling
crowd,
A blot upon the city's pleasure-page.
"What runs wrong with you, unclei" was the
"You who have been the very youngest boy
OF all The old men the city had,
Who loved professions more than perquisites'
And rolled gala day beneath your tongue
What rheumatism has turned that temper lame
Speak up, and make your inward burden ours"
The old man slowly walked until he came
Unto the market-place, then feebly stopped,
AS II to talk; and crowd gathered soon,
AS men will when man has things to say.
Aud thus he spoke "For ffty years and more
l have been sexton Of st. Joseph's Church.
81. Joseph's would have Jared I'll but for me.
And though my friend the priest may smile at
this,
And wink at you an unbeheving eye,
My office shines In heaven as well as his
Although 1t was not mine to make the church
Cody, / kept 1t clean, and that stands next.
IL have broken one circle OF my sphere,
Let some one with straight finger trace 1t out.
"And no procession of these fifty years
Has marched the streets with aught like kingly
tread,
But on the summit OF st. Joseph's spire
stood erect and waved a welcome flag,
With scanty resting. place beneath my feet,
And the Wild breezes clutchiDg at my beard.
1t took some nerve TO stand so near TO heaven
And fling abroad his colors. Try 1t, priest.
"But am old; lost OF my manhood's fire
Is choked In cold white ashes; and nv nerves
Tremble In every zephyr like the lraves.
What can doi-the nag must not be m ssed
From the cathedraPs summit. I've no sor,
Or he should bear The baDne or ms curse.
| have daughter: she shall wave the tag
''And this is how my girl will wave he flag.
Ten suitors has she; and the valiant one
Who strong Of heart and will, can climb that
perch,
And do what 70 many times have doEe,
snail take her haad from niue at bis descent.
Speak up Vienna lads ! and Iecolect
How much Of loyeliuess faint heart e',r Won"
Then there was camor IN the caliow breasts
OF the Vienna youth: for she was far
The sweetest blossom OF that ciiy's wires.
Many youngsters eye climbed furtively
Where The fIail spirc-tip tremb!td 10 the
breeze,
Then wandered TO the cot wherein she dwelt;
Bot none spoke up, till Gabriel Peteisheim,
Whose ear this proclamation strange had
reached,
Came rushing through the crowd, and boldly
said:
al avn your daughters sutton, and the one
She truly loves; but sea. ce can gain emile
Uutil win her fathers heart as well;
And you, old man, have frowncd on me, and
said
was too young, too frivolous, too wild,
Aud had not manhood worthy of her hand.
Mark me tomorrow as mount yon spire,
And mention, when bring the flag to you,
Whether twas ever waved more gloriously."
And thus the old man answered: "Climb
your way;
And II sepseful breeze should push you of,
And break that raw and somewhat worthless
neck,
can not greatly mourn; but climb your way,
And you shall have the girl II you succeed"
High on the giidy pinnacle next day
Waited the youth; but not Till evenings sun
Marched from the western gates, that tardy
Rode past the church. And though young
Gabriel's nerves
We're weakened by fatigue and want OF food,
He pleased the peoples and the monarch's eye,
And flashed deeper thrill of love through one
Who turned her sweet face often up to him,
And whose true heart stood with him on the
tower.
Now, when the kingly pageant all had
He folded up the Tag and with proud smiles
And prouder heart prepared him to descend.
But the small trap door through which he had
crept
Had by some rivals hand been barredi and be,
With but band-brea1th's space where he
might cling,
Was left alone TO i've there, or to die
Guessing the truth or shadl W of the truth,
ua snItlad AT frat and said. NWell. let them
voice
Their jealousy by such paltry trickl
They laugh an hour; my laugh will longer be
Their Joke will soon be dead, and released"
But an hour, and two others, slowly came,
And then he murmured: This is no boys
sport;
1t Is Silent signal, which means 'Deathpn
He shouted, but no answer came to him,
Not even an echo, on that lofty perch.
He waved his hands In mute entreatS, but
The darkness crept between him and his
friends.
A haif-hour seemed an age, and still he
chung.
He looked down at the myriad city lights,
TwinkIing like stars upon lowlter sky,
And prayed: 10 pleased city OF my birth,
On which full many / love, and one o'er-well,
Or should not be feebly clinging here,
Il there not 'mongst those thousands one kind
heart
To help met or must come bach to you
Crushing my way through grim, untimely
deathfn
Rich sounds of mirth come fAintly-but no
help.
Another hour went by. and still he cluug.
He braced himself against the rising breeze,
And wrapped the flag around his shivering
form,
And thus he prayed unto the merry winds:
40 breeze, you bear no tales OF truer love
Than give you at this lonely height
Tell but my danger to the heart serve,
And she Will never rest till l am freel"
The wind pressed hard against him as he cluDg
And well nigh wrenched him from that scanty
hold,
But made no answer to the piteous plea.
Hour after hour went by and still be held
Weak, dizzy, reeling-to his narrow perch.
IL was clear and queenly summer night;
And every star seemed hanging from the sky,
AS IL 'twere bending down to look at him.
And thus he prayed 10 the far-shining stars:
80 million worlds, peopled, perhaps, like this,
Can you not see me, cinging helpless heret
Can you not fash message to some eye,
Or throw your influence on some friendly
To rescue meYp A million sweet-eyed stais
Gave smiles TO the beseecher, but no help.
And so the long procession of the night
Marched slowly by, and each scarce hour was
Nv the great clock beneath; and still he chung
Unto the frail preserver Of his life,
And held, not for his life, but for his love
Held while the spiteful breezes wrenched at
him;
Held while the chills OF midnight crept through
him:
While Hope and Fear made him their battle
ground,
And rsvaged fiercely through his heart and