The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1905-12-21
The Message
of the Bells

UN clouds scudded gustily across
~ the sky, hiding the peaceful face
of the moon. whose radiance
touched the edges of her sombel
veil with a fringe of silver. The
great gray tower lifted its head far
aloft in the midnight stiffness, and the
wind moaned around its rough-hewn cor,
ners a requiem for tie dying year. With.
IN the tower sat the ole bell-ringer, wait.
ing for the stroke of twelve from the
clock, and, a. he waited, his thoughts
drifted back to the years long buried
In the dimness of the past-the years
when his floating white hair had been
crisp Inc black, when his long, slender
fingers were strong and supple, and
struck from the midnight chimes music
of enhancing beauty.
Oh, happy memory Oh, long ago! 1t
was on another night like that that Ru-
precht was born; and the Joy which
beamed from the pale young mothers
face was reflected in his own. as he left
her with her baby on her bosom and
rushed to the bell-tower to make of his
chimes a peen of praise to the Father
who had filled his life with blessing.
How they loved him-that baby-their
only one-their all! How ne and Els
peth had watched each new develop
ment-how proudly guided the first tot
tering step; how carefully repeated the
first lisping word.
The boy studied-impro7ing every op-
p~srtunity with untirins zeal, until at
last the great organ in the Cathedral
below Numbered its glorious music re-
sponsive to the touch of the boyish fin
gers. People thronged to hear. Ru-
~prechts services were demanded else
where-briiliant prospects opened be-
fore him. and the inevitable separation
drew near.
New Years Eve! How MANY ami
versaries this shadowy hour held! The
boy babe them good-by while Elspeth
chung 10 him and sobbed, and her hus-
BAN rushed away to tell the chimes his
agony as he had poured into them his
Joy. As he sat waiting, even as now.
. step came up the stair. and some one
entered the belfry chamber, and the voice
he loved said tenderly ".Mein Water. let
play the chimes tonight. I will leave
with them a message to comfort you
when you are sad-a message for Won
and the mother, too. When I hear it in
the faroff land it will be my mothers
voice hat sings to me, and when You
play it, mein water, it viii say to You.
sRuprecht loves me- Then You win
pray God watch over my boy and keen
him safe for me- and the AllFather
viii hear"
When Ruprecht struck the massive
keys it was the simple old Pleyel's hymn
he played, but he lent his beautiful voice
to the ciangor Of the bells and saug his
mothers favorite words:
Children Of the Heavenly King
As ye journey sweetly sing,
= Sing your Saviour's worthy praise
Glorious In his works and ways.
A moment later he was o The
years had been many and long since
then, but no tidings ever came, and Els
peth's hair grew white before the look Of
expectancy in her lear eyes changed to
the calmness Of resignation. He was
dead, of course. They had heard of the
wrecked ship. They had moved to a new
home. They were only waiting now
he and Eispeth-for the summons which
should call them 20 the happy reunion
where there would be no sad good-bys
and hearts forget how to ache.
nv uEct StfOhc VI mlQulS1L
and an instant later the bells pealed
forth. while the old man sang with trem-
bling lips and voice that no one heard
but God-as he had sung every New
Year since that one:
Children Of the Heavenly King
As ye journey sweetly sing,
Sing your Saviour's worthy praise
Glorious In his works and ways.
Then. as the last reluctant echo died
away, he stumbled down the narrow
stairs toward home and Elspeth.
Not far from the tower stood a man
sion, where a great throng a assem-
bled to watch the old year out and the
new year in Silken draperies rustled,
Jewels cleaned, music rippled ON the
perfuraed air, and happy voices rang
sweet and high But every sound was
siIenced, and bright eyes grew dim in
the food of melody which suddenly
poured about the gay tsrong. They
crowded toward the music room, trying
to catch q glimpse Of the player. Those
who were near saw a. slender man, with
fair curling hair brushed back from a
brow as pure as a woman's- Quietly he
sat before the grand piano. playing with
eat the slightest effort such masterful