It's the bells

[Maverick Martin]

After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word

through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.

 

The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went

up into the belfry to begin the screening process.

 

After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided

to call it a day.

 

Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to

apply for the bell ringer's job. The bishop was incredulous.

 

'You have no arms !'

 

'No matter,' said the man. 'Observe !'

 

And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody

on the carillon.

 

The bishop listened in astonishment; convinced he had finally found a

replacement for Quasimodo.

 

But suddenly, as he rushed forward to strike the bell, the armless man

tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the

street below.

 

The stunned bishop rushed down two hundred and ninety five church steps,

when he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure,

drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moment before.

 

As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked,

 

'Bishop, who was this man ?'.

 

'I don't know his name,' the bishop sadly replied,

 

 

 

( scroll down )

 

 

 

 

 

' ................ BUT HIS FACE RINGS A BELL'

 

 

 

WAIT ! WAIT ! There's more

 

 

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart

due

to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the bishop continued

his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

 

The first man to approach him said, 'Your Excellency, I am the brother of

the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry

yesterday.

 

I pray that you honour his life by allowing me to replace him in this

duty.'

 

 

The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless man's

brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned,

clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot.

 

Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second tragedy,

rushed up the stairs to his side.

 

'What has happened ? Who is this man ?' the first monk asked breathlessly.

 

 

 

'I don't know his name,' sighed the distraught bishop, 'but..'

 

 

 

 

 

(. . . Wait for it ...)

 

 

>

 

(.. . . It's worth it.. ..)

 

>

 

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> 'HE'S A DEAD RINGER FOR HIS BROTHER.'