Most jobs a steeplejack has to undertake are hard ones; hard, that is to say, from the point of view of manual labour. Occasionally, however, one drops across one that is ridiculously easy.
For example, I was called to Truro because the vane on top of the steeple of its famous cathedral refused to work. Residents were making obvious jokes about its being a weatherhen, and not a weathercock at all, because it "sat so tight."
I travelled three hundred miles on the level, and then climbed four hundred feet into the air, with visions of displaced masonry and fractured ironwork before my eyes, only to find that the socket in which the vane worked was badly in need of oiling. I rather think that that is a record in big efforts for little objects. Three hundred miles by rail, four hundred feet by ladder—and all to grease a weathercock!
This, by the way, was the highest steeple I ever climbed, also the most southerly, except the French Cathedral, Jersey. The most northerly was that which surmounts Dornoch Cathedral. This is Mr. Andrew Carnegie's regular place of worship, and quite close to his residence, Skibo Castle.
FELLING A CHIMNEY A HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS OLD—IT STOOD TWO HUNDRED FEET HIGH AND WEIGHED TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED TONS—THIS AND ANOTHER CHIMNEY WERE THROWN WITHIN AN HOUR.
From a Photograph.
THE OLD-FASHIONED METHOD OF BURNING PROPS—APPLYING THE MATCH TO THE MATERIAL. WHEN THE SUPPORTS HAVE BURNT THROUGH DOWN COMES THE CHIMNEY.
From a Copyright Photo.
by The Sport and General Illustrations Co.
"I suppose," I remarked to some of the local residents, "that Mr. Carnegie is pretty generous round here?"