The Plymouth Democrat. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1869-1941, 1870-02-17
MISCELLANEOUS.
THE DEAD MANS BELL.

y \
ley, i've minutes after | had been in his
house, Paraboiically referring to the sur
gerry bell.
Worse than any child" said l. 81
never neard such bell; it doesn't ring
IL toils." 1t might have been knell, such
Was It's solemn, deep-tored clangor "Why
on earth don't you change it for some.
thing more professional? It's enough to
HIghten your patients into fts'
III tell you when | come back" he
replied; and Tom Morley went to the
surgery to see what was wanted.
L had taken CrankfOrd on nv wav in q
Journey to Exeter, because knew Tom
Morley, who had recently come into some
considerable property in that little town
where he was practising as a surgeon, and
because there was some queer circumstan-
ces connected with his settlement in
Crankford, of which l wished to learn
the particulars; and he was such bad
correspondent, 1t was no good writing to
MIN bis house was very old fashioned
one. III stood askew in a crooked street
oil crooked town, and every room seemed
arranged cornerwise, as to consist ol
oeams, and angles, and recesses.
"Well," said Tom Morley, returning to
the room after having seen his patients
v Il
IL Tor more musical one? Because owe
nearly all | have to that bell. Come and
look at it."
followed him up stairs, ard along a
winding dark passage on the first floor,
.iii we came to it, q large and heavy iron
Del covered with cobwebs, remarkable
Tor nothing, to my mind, but its size and
its hldGous nOisiness. Tom set it a swing
Ing all it tprOduced deafening peal so that
my head ached
There" said he, with evident relish
Tor the hOrrld noise, "as long as | have a
surgery, | hope that will always be nv
surgery bell. 1t has been the unconscious
instrument of furnishing crime, of aveng-
ing the dead, and of causing Justice to be
done the living"
We came down stairs again, and when
comfortably seated by the fireside, Tom
Morley told me the story.
on must know that this poky little
house, and that big gabled barn next to it
on the right hand side, which is sufficient
ly assuming to be dignified with the title
oil edihce,' once upon time formed one
hOuss-one great crooked bit of insight
Ilness that might have been built during
an earthquake by Manx architect it
could not have been crOokeder The then
oNhtA vi pace uSCu ID i've III the large
house, whilst his butler and the buffers
wife tthe owners housekeeper) inhabited
the smaller one in which we are now sit
ting. At that time the great house was a
fine one in its way, we'll furnished, and
well kept up; but when Through circum-
stances which | need not mention) the
property came into my fathers posses
sion, near twenty years ago, he made two
houses OF 1t, lived in the big one himself,
and let the little one.
Ny father, Mr.. Isaac Morley, was called
4 pad landlord /; he seldom had tenant
stay In the smaller house long in fact, he
allowed ito go almost to wreck and ruin
1Or want of the necessary external repairs
Ddt then he suffered the large house, which
Lc inhabited himself, to fall into a similar
state of decay. 1t was not that he was a
poor man, but because he had a morbid
dislike to part with his money Some
people called my father mser ;iffindinp
money in his own house, and glOatine
over 1t with some degree of satisfaction
make person miser, people were iusti-
BED In calling him one. But he was not a
mlser in the ordinary sense of the term
Ills boarding at home had grown out of a
misfortune which nearly ruined him in
early life a local bank in which much of
his money was deposited had failed and
from that time he said (foolishly, no
dOubt) he would never trust another. As
20 his gloating over his money, that is little
after all, because it is just as miserly to
glOat over balance in a bankers book as
over heap of gold and note. i'm a cash
box. But my father differed from the mi
ser genu. more especially in this particu
lar he never pinched or stinted himself
for the sake of his cash-bOx do not say
this difference was much in his favor, bu
he was my father, and, though he was g
strange nan in many things, should be
sorry To say the contrary.
He married late in life; my mother lived
only two years with him, and died il
giving me birth. Ny father took strang,
and unreasonable dislike to me, as being
IN some sense, the cause of my mothers
death. 1t worried him to think about hi
loss when he saw me, and as the sight o
me reminded him of that, was sent away
to be brought up with my mothers sister.
children. The quarterly payments M
father remitted for my board and educa
ton were a substantial help to my aunt
had comfortable home, and, though
saw little of my father, we were never OF
unfriendly terms In due time he con
suited my wishes about my future life, az
prenticed me to a surgeon, and paid tn
necessary expenses for my studies.
Folks in CrankfOrd were divided in opir
ion as to whether Isaac Morley really wa
rich and miserly, or only poor and ecc
nOmical. He was so quiet and reserve
in his habits; whilst it was known h
had suffered losses in his time, that theI
was no getting at the actual truth.
knew no more than they did, and my r.
lations with my father prevented m
ascertaining, so that whatever was sal
about the matter was for many years I
more than surmise As to the deaf o
housekeeper, who lived in the house, ST
was always Grossly discreet, and had sue
vicious temper besides, that it was us
less for any OF the neighbors to try an
confirm their suspicious from her.
Well, after my father had grixzle
nearly a twelve month over the lit
house being shut up, and began to fe,
he must put it into repair before he cou
let it any more, tenant suddenly turnt
up in the person of DIR. John Gryan
He was a suave, fiabby man, nearly Al
short, and rather stout, with a fat, colo
less, dough-like face 1t was rumort
that he had very powerful, if not vel
creditable, reasons for relinquishing
practice somewhere in Essex. We new
knew if that was true-it was mere
gossip, and Crawford is great place
that-but DIR. Gryant paid down half
years rent In advance, took the pla
from Michaelmas, and wanted nOthiI
done Isaac Morley took his money al
asked no questions.
A great man for doctors was my fath'
He was scarcely ever really i'll, but as