The record-union., 1894-08-11

lively,
''Tha'l ma be sax new beels!'
"Oh, no. we'll need but three-four,
five and six, they are called"
"Hown't a sellin' un-tha four, five,
sax?"
''They will cost at least hundred
pounds. Joe, put in place."
"Doan't ee knaw, an tha a passon,
Stithney'n braak under tn drug Dur
den)?" retorted old Joe desperately.
'Joe, there's no use," replied the rector
sadly but emphatically. Poor as we are
at Stithney, the bells must be had. They
must be rung properly, besides. Here
now, both of you, listen! Pn put ten
pounds in your own aud Polly's hands
the day you're married, and you. Joe,
will let some younger man take your
place at the bells"
This was grand burst of generosity
for so poor cleric as the rector OF Stith-
ney. He patted each of the griZZled old
lovers kindly on the shoulders as though
the thing were done, with his blessing
on it besides, and, humming pleasant
melody, stepped lightly away to the
mossy rectory behind the ancient church.
A pretty, quizzieal face greeted him at
the rectory door, smiling, doubtful,
half-mocking, but altogether loving, face.
and, as the rector entered, its lips parted
with.
"Well, father?'
swell, Rose, it is WELL"
81 don't believe itW
"Assuredly it is, daughter. Why, I
showed the obstinate old fellow how USE
less was his persistence, the necessity for
the change, and what do you think / did
besides?"
''1old him he was standing in the light
of the whole parish?" suggested Rose,
teaZingly.
NO" said her father gravely, though
that should not have been omitted. But
l actually promised them gift of ten
pounds if they would marry and Joe
would step aside for some younger and
more competent man."
"And you believe Joe Davy will do
this?"
Certainly he will"
Certainly he will not. Father, moth
ing but death will ever loosen his hands
from the tenor bell OF Stithney Church.
And that poor, half demented old Polly
Treenoodle would shed her last drop
OF life blood before she would let him
do itn'
"Nonsense, Rose. We shall have no
further annoyance from that quarter"
"Why, father, YOU don't know old Joe
and old Polly. When Twill Hardy was
down here from London-you know he
has genuine literary penchant for odd
characters?-I made him acquainted
with them both. He said there was the
stuff in the old couple for grand ro-
mancep
The rector laughed good humoredly
aud ventured the opinion that if the
young London literator, William Hardy,
based his hopes for literary fame on the
portrayal of such pair, he had better
take a haberdasher's clerkshlp for live
lihood at once.
'But, father, you don't understand
them," urged the rector's daughter.
"Joe's love for those bells amounts to a
madness. In proportion to his very ig
norance is his intensity of idolatory for
them. To him, they are wife, home,
love-all. And old Poll has but one dull,
dead, endless hope before her, to minis
ter i'll some dumb way to his passion for
them. So viii Hardy says, and l believe
it. too"
"Well, well, WE'LL" exclaimed Rector
Dunlea dubiously, just as stumping,
sturdy footsteps were heard approaching
over the graveled walk.
He parted the vines at the open win
dow and looked out. Hand in hand old
Joe Davy and old Poll Treenoodle were
approaching the door. The rector noticed
he asked him kindly:
"WelI, Joe, what can 1 do for you
now?"
ssIts sunet we s'll do for thar'
sAbout the bells?" This to Joe: and
then to Rose behind him: you see he
has come 10 give in like the good fellow
that he is!''
ABOUT th' beels," he answered laconi-
calIy.
"Well. Joe?'
"Weel, passon. Poll am NELL bren
buy TIP beels fra Lunnon. Poll ha'
saved a prill Ia bit of gold) fra growder
sellin', an l ha' saved a scubmaw IA
little wreckage) fra th' sea. Well bren
th' beels ira Lunnon-an'. passon, God s
word ont l'll ring 'em t. th' eend''
He said this determinedly and tiercely,
and old Poll chuckled hoarsely and
strangely, as, still clutching each other 5
hands, they turned on their heels and
stumped proudly away.
Rose Dunlea came close to her father S
chair, gently pressed her pretty finger
tips over his astonished eyes, and as she
bent and kissed his flushed forehead she
softly Inurmured:
"What does father think of VIII Har-
dy's Judgment now?'
IL think,v he said feelingly as he
raised his own hands and held his daugh-
ter's for a moment where she had low
ingly placed them, that God alone can
fathom the depths of the lowliest human
heart!"
No power could turn the old lovers
from their purpose. The village folk
laughed and jeered. but they went bravely
on and on. Shaving and starving Poll
dug and sold her growder, adding tiercely
aud savagely TO the hard-earned hoard.
Savagely and tiercely, too, old Joe braved
all dangers of the coast, from Mullion
Cove TO Narration, and The sea, as if re-
sponsiye TO his daring. gave It's richest
harvests to his furious quest.
Their baaDs (bans) will be caa'd oot
above their greaves," the villagers would
whisper as they wagged their heads.
sTh' brave beels I'll bring tina curse
on Stithney." others would gravely
prophesy.
.'Awd rat tha beels,u still others would
mutter; they'll crumble like growder
an rot like fish: fatched tgot) by sech
betwattled hoddymaHdoddies (crazy SIM
pletons)w
Despite the eroaking of the villagers
the new bells for StiEhney came at last
from London, and old Joe and Poll, fend-
ing all sacrilegious hands from their
shining forms, saw them safely put in
place.
But the full peal remained unheard.
All entreaties that il be rung were un-
heede1. Old Joe's triumph was TO be had
in such surprise to the Stithneys as they
had never before experienced. He
changed away with old-time clamor upon
the three ancient bells, but the new ones
were mute. At Christmas, not before,
should the glorious peal be heard.
Meantime the bent old ringer stole se-