Year: 1872

HOW Cnurcn Steeple was SaNeus


The romantic story of the bells of st.
Michael's Church in Charleston, S. c.,
which we copied few days ago from Mrs.
Carson's book, reminds US of an incident
in relation to that church which probably
has never been printed, or if it has, is old
enough and interesting enough to be told
again. We heard it related long since by
an old lady who witnessed it when she
was young girl, perhaps eighty years
ago.


This lady, who was from Massachusetts,,
was on a visit at Charlestown in the latter
part of the last century. 1t was at time
when there was a fire which burned up
considerable part of the city, and which
for many years marked an era in its his
tory, as "the time of the Great Fire;
though, doubtless, that ancient date has
been wiped out by events more recent and
more disastrous. st. Michaers, however,
was then, as it has always continued to
be, the pride of the citizens of Charles
ton, who truly claimed that it served, from
its height, as beacon to sailors approach
ing the coast, and was the last thing sight
ed, far out at sea, by those who were out
ward bound. And not only was it their
pride, but it almost seemed to them that
Providence had the beautiful old church
in its special keeping, when, the morning
after the fire, they turned their eyes up
ward to see its lofty spire almost piercing
the clouds, while beneath and all around
it lay in blackened ruins the fairest and
largest part of their beloved city, and the
ashes of so many of the homes of the
stricken people.


1t had, however, barely escaped de-
struction, and that by an act of heroism
which is now, perhaps, forgotten in
Charleston, but is recalled by native of
Massachusetts,, as pleasant reminiscence e
of his childhood, and of the venerable
woman who told OF the brave act of which
she was an eyewitness.


While the fire was raging and the
whole city seemed doomed to destruction,
the Mayor and Aldermen sat in solemn
and anxious counsel to devise ways and
means to stay the confiagration and to
provide for those who had lost all their
worldly possessions, and who stood half
naked and shivering by the smouldering
ruins of their homes. The news came to
| them presently that st. Michaeps was in
| danger, for the fire was approaching the
square where it stood, and'a storm of great
burning brands was showered down upon
its roof and hurled against its steeple.
Men upon the roof put out the fiery
missiles as they fell, and could reach and
dislodge those that fastened themselves
upon the lower portion of the spire; but
the danger was that some burning shingle,
borne far up in the air by the gale, would
| make a lodgment out of reach, insuring,
not only the destruction of the church,
but spreading the flaming messengers far
and wide from the great height over parts
of the city as yet untouched by the rain
of fire.


The fear was well founded. 1t was not
long before a flying brand caught and
fastened itself upon the topmost height
of the spire. The spectators watched it
anxiously, in the vain hope that it would
| drop before its blaze caught upon the sur
rouning woodwork; but, held to its place,
| perhaps by the wind, it kindled brighter
and brighter, till it was plain that, unless
some human hand could pluck it down,
| the spire and all that would be involved
in its destruction were doomed. The
helpless crowd looked up and watched
the burning brand, but among them all
there was not one man fearless enough or
active enough to attempt to scale the
giddy height. The Mayor and the Coun-
Gil stood in the square below, powerless
and despairing as the rest, but offering a
large reward to any one who would at
tempt the daring feat of dislodging that
speck of fame that flickered in the gale
at the very summit of the steeple, and
grew each moment brighter, and would
not fall.


But presently man appeared in the
| belfry of the church, and leaning over
the railing looked upward, as if measur-
ing with his eyes the distance of the
many feet of almost perpendicular ascent
that still lay between him and the spot of
flame above him. Then he mounted upon
the railing and stretched his hands above
him upon the steeple. From the crowd
of thousands below went up one single
mighty shout that almost shook the air
about him; then great silence fell upon
upon the multitude as they held their
breaths, and their upturned faces grew
white in the ruddy light as they watched
his progress. Slowly, painfully, care
fully and steadily he crept up and up,
raising himself from one slight projec.
tion to another, invisible to those below,
but which served him for a foothold and
which his hands could grasp. All around
for many squares the fire ragged unheeded,
and men forgot their blazing homes as by
the light of their burning they watched
this solitary figure creeping hundreds of
feet above them, up st. Michaers steeple.
At length the brand was within his reach,
and holding on with one hand only he
seized the blazing mass with the other,
and hurled it clear into the square below,
and the spire stood out black once more
against the sky, with no light upon it
except the reflection from the burning
houses.


But not yet did the crowd dare shout
out their exultation that st. MichaePs
was saved, for its savior still clung, a
moving speck beneath the golden bal,
the sight of which sailors greeted so far
out sea. Slowly, painfully, carefully,
steadily he began the more difficult de-
scent, and not till he had stepped safely
and firmly over the railing and into the
| belfry of the church did the mighty shout
of men who hailed great deliverance and
recognized an act of daring heroism, rise
above the roar of the surrounding fire.
st. Michaels was saved and the man was
safe.


| AT the church door the Mayor and cor
poration and surging crowd of people
met him. Who he was that had per-
formed that fearful feat none knew; they
could only see that it was a man who
climbed the spire, but in the lurid light
SC many feet ABOVE them in the air they
had not seen that he was black. He
stood at the church door, and they not
only saw that he was black; he was a
slave.


But none the less had he saved st.
Michaels; and, as the burgesses of AK
ordered their last measure of wine to be
given to the good horse Roland, who
brought the good news from Ghent, so
the Mayor of Charleston gave, on the
spot, his freedom to the negro slave who
had plucked the burning brand from the
very summit of st. Michaeps spire and
saved the city and the church.-N. T.
Ecening P0st.


What Made Mark Twain Mad.