The Tupelo journal., 1905-12-22

IWT strangers 1nkll WI
my bells, Mr.. Edwards"
he protested. 1--WE rung EN- over so
year, an if l amt ekal to it this
Christmas-why, let 'em do without
for once, that's ALI"
Seems a pity, though, Bargle, don't
you Think" The vicar spoke per-
suasively. He was young and diffident
and new to Peridale, and the sexton
was c%rotchety and opinionated. The
last vicar had slipped into an easy
habit of deferring to his long expe-
rience, and this had made him AFRO
CANT. ct is a fine old custom, Bar
gle"
"There'll be the chimes at the par
Ish church over the hill yonder," Bar
gle interrupted, testify; they sound
here in the village quite plain, an
folks must make the best O. that an
be thankful"
There was a deal of grumbling about
1t in the village; Bargle knew that,
and took a morbid pride in feeling
that he was having his own way.
People were limiting that his ailments
were imaginary, that his rheumatism
was merely another name for his
grabbed perversity, and an excuse for
his increasing Incidence.
AS he sat smoking and Illuminating,
his thoughts Travelled along that bleak
road to the church, and back into
blither old Christmases when he had
toiled robustly, with his assistant, high
up in the crazy tower, and they had
kept the three bells swinging and
pealing joyously from eight O'Clock till
midnight, with short rests between
whites, and one long rest when steam
ing hot coffee and toast had been car
ried up the narrow, steep stairs to
them by a homely, CHEEKY little wom-
an, who was his wife, and a merry
eyed, winsome maid, who was their
daughter Alice.
But that had happened for the last
time-how many Christmases ago?
Why, already eight winters had
showed over that mound in the church
yard. And this was the fourth year
since Alice had deserted him in his
loneliness, and he had set himself to
forget her.
He had not forgotten yet, though;
nor forgiven her.
In defiance of his imperative be-
hests. she had married the ne'er-do-
weel son of a tradesman in the town
yonder, and they had gone away to
London. She had written to him thrice,
but he burned her first letter and re
turned the others unopened, and, if
he had not forgotten her, her lame
was never on his lips.
At length, a few months ago, the
village heard hat her husband, was
dead. she had written to a neighbor
saying she and her baby were desti-
tute, and begging that she would in
tercede and ask her father to forgive
her and let her come home.
But Bargle, mindful of his dignity,
hardened himself, and, r~esenting this
interceSsion as an impertinence, curt
ly advised the peacemaker not to med
die in his business again; hot words
passed between them, and she flung
off in such a whirl Of indignation that
uC1 ICplS " <hl1NS oPPoA AIiy oNoISA
the girl from attempting any further
overtures.
Absorbed as he was in these regret
full reveries, a sudden sound broke in
upon him, and he started, glancing
around dazedly and wondering wheth-
er he had been asleep.
But no!-as he listened, breathless,
A. -N,rI woo ronooto1. a cirn1o Joo,
clang of the church bell.
No wind was stirring, and he had
the keys of the belfry; yeti was no
trick of his imagination, for, after a
tense interval, another dull clang
echoed down the night; and presently
another, like the booming of a funeral
knell.
With a chill creeping up his spine,
the gray, gnarled old mar recalled a
legend that the belfry was haunted by
the ghost of a man who had wronged
a friend, and, in a fit of renlorse, had
flung himself from the tower on some
forgotten Christmas; Bargle had
known folks who spoke to hearing the
bell toll mysteriously on Christmas
ewes before he was born, but he had
not half believed them, and had never
heard it himself-until now.
That was it sounding again!
He was no coward superstitiouS,
and a swift, irresistible impulse seized
and drove him to fathom this strange
happening.
His very excitement braced him and
put new strength into his limbs. He
lighted a lantern, and, helping his
hating steps with a stout stick, made
for the village and walked up the youth
who assisted him in his duties.
"Dost hear yon bell, Amos?" he
called, quaveringly.
ely, Mr.. Bargle," and Bargle was
relieved to have his hearing thus cor
roborated. "Who be it oop there, l
wonner?"
Put your coat on smartly, lad. I'm
goin' to see."
Silent, and quaking with cold or
nervousness, they moved noiselessly
over the muffiing snow, turned the
wall of the churchyard, and, Bargle
grimly leading, filed in through the
creaking lych gate.
The narrow path between the graves
brought them to the porch, and here
Bargle, who entered first, stopped,
fumbling for his keys, and suddenly
held the lantern lower with a husky
cry of alarm.
In the glimmering light Of the lam
tern, a woman lay huddled close to
Hbo church door with q child rolled in