The Lake County star. [volume] (Chase, Mich.) 1873-current, 1875-12-30
The Bells or Limerick.

The old bells that hung in the tower
of the Limerick Cathedral were made
by young Italian after many years o.
patient toll. He was proud OF ms work,
and when they were purchased py Ihe
prior of a neighbOring convent near Tue
Lake of Como, the artist lnvesteu .ne
profits of the sale in pretty VIA on tic
margin of the lake, where he couid near
their Aneelus music waited from Tue
convent cliff across the waters at morn,
ING. noon and night. Here he INTENDED
to q pass his life but his happiness was de-
MED him. In one of those teudai bro,is
which. whether civil or foreign, are the
undying worm i'm fallen land, ne SUI
fered the loss of his all; and, when the
storm passed, he found himself without
home. family, friends and fortune. Inc
convent had been razed to the ground,
and the chefs-deuure of his handiwork,
the tuneful chime whose music had
charmed his listening ear for so many
happy days of his past life, had been car
ried away to foreign land. He became
a wanderer. His hair grew white ana
his heart withered before he again found
a resting-place. In all those years OF
bitter desolation the memory OF the
music of his bells never left him ne
heard it i'm the forest and in the
crowded city, on the sea and on the banks
of the auiet stream in the basin OF the
hills; he heard it by day; and when
night came, and troubled sleep, 1t
whispered to him soothingly of peace
} and bappiness. One day he met manner
from over the sea, who told him story
, of a wondrous chime of bells he had
heard in Ireland. An intuition told the
artist that they were his bells. He jour.
neyed aud vOyaged thither, SICK al ano
weary, and sailed up the Shannon. Inc
r ship came to anchor in the port neal
t Limerick, and he took passage in small
I boat for the purpose of reaching the Guy
9 Before him the tail steeple of st. Mary
I lifted its turreted head above the mis-
n and smoke of the old town. He Leaned
back wcarily, yet with a happy ligh
e beaming from hiscyes. The angels wer
l. whispering To him that his bells wer
e there. He prayed: ooh, let them soun'
r me loving welcome. Just one note 9
d greeting, 0 bells! and my pilgrimage
y dOnew
X It was beautiful evening. The air wa
like that of his own Italy in the sweetes
time of the year, the death of the sprlns
The bosom OF the river was like broa
mirror, rejecting the patines OF brigt
lie gold that decked the blue sky, the towel
r. and the streets of the old town in 4
is clear depths. The lights of the CIT
In danced upon the wavelets that ripple
gs from the boat as she glided along. SUE
ut denly the stiffness was broken. From >
! Mary's tower there came shower
'ei silver sound, filling the air with mus
at The .boatmen rested on their oars
Is. listen. The old italian crossed his arm
'e- and fixed his streaming eyes upon u
ms tower. The sound of the bells bore
m; his heart all the sweet memories OF
ed ed buried past-home, friends, kindred, a
er- At la t he was happy-tco happy j..
er, speak, too happy to breathe. When
mt rowers sought to arouse him his face v
Wy upturned to the tower, but his eyes w
closed. The poor stranger had breath
ter hisI,st. His own chefs dGurre had ru
by his "passing bell."-Harper's Mdga'
hu f,y- ,J1nudrU.