It was an ancient, but rather inconsequential village situated along a road less traveled, about a day's walk northwest of Calcutta, India. There was little there in the way of commerce and the people, who were either farmers or herdsmen, lived close to the land, depending upon it to yield a living. Beyond survival, there was little to brighten their day. Occasionally they would have the opportunity to show hospitality to a traveler who took the wrong fork at the intersection about eight miles back.

They were an humble people who had few possessions of which to boast. But there was one thing in which they took great pride. The stone temple which had stood for centuries in the center of the village was the focal point of their entire social life. The one thing they had desired and worked toward obtaining for the last two hundred years had finally been secured… a large bronze bell for the temple belfry.

One day there was a little excitement in the village. It seems that a farmer coming from the field where he had gathered a few turnips stopped his wagon beside the house where he usually did, unhitched the donkey and led him to the stall. He told his children to get the turnips out of the wagon and take them to the watering trough and wash them. The problem arose because the farmer, distracted by the children's joyful squeals, forgot to place a chock under the wagon wheel. The wagon grew lighter as the turnips were removed and with the jostling of the children it began to roll backward. There were two smaller children in the wagon who, by the time they perceived the wagon was rolling, were afraid to jump out so they began to scream.

The road leading out of the village was not very steep and the friction of the wheel bearings prevented the wagon from gaining much momentum, but it had a good head start on the men of the village who, at first, had ignored the children's screams. However, without intervention it was certain that the wagon would run off the road and down the steep hillside resulting in severe injury to the children. As luck would have it, there was a stranger walking up the hill into the village, and perceiving the danger to the children ran toward the approaching wagon. Upon reaching the wagon he ran alongside until his speed matched that of the wagon and then by getting in front of it he managed to retard its progress until it came to a stop.

The men of the town quickly arrived and chocked the wheels and gratefully retrieved their children who were now safe. They gathered around the young hero, slapping him on the back and expressing their gratitude for his brave act. His bravery was all the more marveled at because, as the men of the town quickly noticed, the young man had no arms!

The assembled group escorted the young hero into the village square singing his praises to everyone there. After some of the excitement died down the village leaders began to talk of how they might reward the young hero. Our hero declined the necessity of any reward. The leaders, however, insisted it would not be right to fail to bestow some sort of honor for this brave act. After much debate, the priest who served at the temple stepped forward to address the group.

"For eight generations the people who worship at this temple have brought special offerings out of their meager earnings for the purpose of purchasing a fine bronze bell to call the people to assemble. Such a bell would be very expensive and many have made great sacrifice to purchase it. We have just recently installed that bell in our temple and it is rung only for special occasions. The people of this village would consider it a great honor to themselves for a man of your caliber to ring our bell.... but I see you have no arms, so how would it be possible?"

Our hero replied, "I would indeed be honored to ring your bell. Since I was born without arms I have learned that there other ways to accomplish what is to be done. Take me to the belfry and I will find a way to ring it."

The priest and some village leaders and our hero ascended the stairs to the belfry. Our hero told the others to stand back so that the bell could swing freely. He then placed his forehead against the rim of the bell and pushed. The bell swung a few inches and stopped. Our hero let the bell swing back toward himself and as it slowed he placed his forehead against it and pushed again. By careful timing of his pushes he was able to get the bell to swing a little farther with each successive push. Just as the bell was swinging almost enough for the clapper to strike, a bird nesting above the bell was disturbed and flew out past our hero. The movement startled him and upset his timing so that he rushed the next push. The swinging bell met his forehead with such momentum that our hero was knocked completely out of the belfry and fell to the ground below.

Everyone was stunned by this turn of events. The young hero they had wanted to honor now lay dead as a result of their good intentions. A terrible tragedy! The priest lamented, "He whom we wanted to honor we have killed, and we never even asked him his name. He is a stranger to us, but it may be that he lives in a nearby village. Everyone come and take a good look at him and see if you know him."

So the people lined up and filed past the young hero's body, but each one failed to identify him. Near the end of the line an old lady stood leaning on her cane peering at the young man.

Finally she spoke, "I can't recall his name, but... his face sure rings a bell."

There was nothing to do but to give the young man a decent funeral and burial. They put him in a borrowed casket and assembled the entire village to pay him homage. They all entered the temple and closed the doors and began the eulogies.

Just after the doors of the temple were closed a stranger came up the road toward the village. Arriving there he was perplexed to see the village apparently deserted. He walked all around peering into doorways and marveling that the entire population of the village seemed to have vanished.

After a while he heard muffled sounds coming from the temple so he went to investigate. Finding the doors locked he knocked an usher came out. "Stranger," the usher said, "The whole village is here for a funeral service. Is there something you need?"

"I was just looking for my brother," the stranger replied. "If anyone in the village has seen him they would know him for he has no arms. Do you know if he has been here?"

"Stranger," the usher replied, "I have some bad news. Your brother, who was a hero to us, was killed in a tragic accident and it is his funeral service we are holding here."

The usher went into the temple and interrupting the eulogies announced to the assembled people the arrival of the stranger at the door. Of course, this stopped the funeral proceedings. After some confusion and explanations to the stranger about all his brother had done, the priest said, "Stranger, it was our intention to honor your brother by allowing him to ring our new bell. I think it only fitting that, in light of all that has happened, you should ring the bell on his behalf."

The stranger agreed and he and the village leaders ascended the stairs to the belfry. "We have not yet been able to purchase a rope long enough to reach the vestibule," said the priest, "but we have our best short rope on the bell."

The stranger wrapped the rope around his hand so that he had a good grip and gave a mighty tug. Their best rope broke! The stranger lost his balance, staggered backward and over the parapet to the ground below.

You cannot imagine the stunned surprise; the gasps of disbelief; the wails of agony that ensued. It is just not possible that two such tragedies occur in the same day. After the people had begun to collect their wits the priest said, "You know, in all the excitement of the brother of our hero arriving here, we never did ask his name. Does anyone here recognize this man?"

The people lined up as before and looked carefully at the stranger, but no one recognized him.

Finally the same old lady as before studied his face intently while leaning on her cane and said, "I can't recall his name, but... he's a dead ringer for his brother!

So once again the church was left without a bell ringer. An advertisement was placed in the local paper and within days a young man who possessed two stout arms applied for the job. The pastor was greatly impressed with the fellow's bell-ringing skill, and he offered the job. The young man accepted and the pastor began to fill out some paperwork. He said, "Now what is your name?"

The fellow replied, "I cannot tell you, but I will whisper it to the bell."

Now this seemed somewhat unusual to the pastor, but he needed a bell ringer, so he nodded his approval. The young man leaned toward the bell, cupped his hands around his mouth, and whispered something unintelligible to the bell. The pastor, wondering if he was doing the right thing, left the young man to his work.

For weeks the skies above the city were filled with the most glorious tones imaginable, until one day -- quite by accident -- the young man slipped, fell out the side of the belfry, and plunged to his death upon the pavement below.

A crowd gathered 'round; a policeman knelt beside the body; the pastor walked outside to investigate the commotion. The policeman looked up at the pastor and asked, "Do you know this man's name?"

The pastor paused, and then replied slowly, "No, he tolled the bell."

So once again the church was left without a bell ringer. An advertisement was placed in the local paper and within days another young man who possessed two stout arms applied for the job, and the pastor asked him to demonstrate his skill with the rope.

The man replied, "I have no need for the rope--just watch this!" With that, he dropped his jaw, tilted his head backward, and produced a perfect E above high C. As he held the note, the bell began to resonate with sympathetic vibrations, and a beautiful tone could be heard throughout the city. The beauty of the sound was incredible, and the man was hired on the spot. With his unique skill, it soon became obvious that the man could ring the bell without even entering the belfry.

Each day at noon he would simply walk along the sidewalk by the church, drop his jaw, tilt his head backward, produce a perfect E above high C, and ring the bell to the amazement of all. Until one day, quite by accident, the vibrations caused the rope holding the bell to snap, and the bell flew out the side of the belfry, plunged toward the ground, and crushed the man to his death upon the pavement below.

A crowd gathered 'round; a policeman knelt beside the body; the pastor walked outside to investigate the commotion. The policeman looked up at the pastor and asked, "Do you know this man's name?"

The pastor paused, and then replied slowly, "No, but … he was a real humdinger!”

So another fellow applied for the bell ringer's job. He also had no arms. Like one of his predecessors he would strike the bell with his face, ringing a perfect note. However, he often missed or hit the wrong bell, which ruined the ringing.

After a couple of weeks, the bishop came to the abbot and said, "You've got to let that bell ringer go. The people don't know when he's ringing a mass, a high mass or the hour of the day."

"I understand." answered the abbot.

"What made you hire him in the first place?" the bishop asked.

"Well, his face had a certain appeal."

(By Clynch Varnadore)

As the gentle rays of morning fell upon the time sculpted spires of the church, the bishop, lamenting his poor luck at the hiring of a bellringer, happened upon a old man sitting on the churches steps.

"Good Morning," the old man said "I'm here for the job of Bellringer"

"Have you any experience?" the bishop asked.

"No", replied the man, "but I need the work"

"What did you do before?" the bishop asked.

"I was a dentist" he replied.

"Very well" said the bishop, and showed him to the belfry.

At the top, the old man pulled out his dentures and began to play the most inspirational chorus on the bells. "I made these myself" he said as he played on.

About a month later, the bishop arrived to find a constable at the church. It seemed his new bellringer had passed on during the night, and being new to the town, no one knew who he was. "Did you happen to catch his name vicker?" the constable asked.

"No" replied the bishop, "But man could he build a toll bridge".

(By Brad Williams)

At the demise of the dentist, the sad but wiser Bishop continuing to lament his poor luck at the hiring of a bellringer, decided upon what he thought was a brilliant stroke of genius. He would teach an animal to do the task, preferably a cat.

Off to the Ye Olde Pet Shop he went where he was assured that truly it could be done. A nice Persian cat was acquired and taken to the belfry but alas it did not do the job. Saddened, the Bishop took the cat to the vet to see if it was sick or ill in some way.

The vet said the cat was fine but not the correct one for the task, explaining that: "What you need is not a Persian cat but you need a Ring tailed Bobcat."

One was acquired and a test was be performed to prove the theory. At 3:00 AM the next morning the Bishop let three of his pet white mice loose to climb the bell rope. True to the vet’s prediction, the Ring Tailed Bobcat chased the mice up the rope and when in the bell, the Ring Tailed Bobcat struck one.... but the other two got away.

(By Gary Hamrick)

The Bishop, fearing for the two mice that got away, sent his best assistant to locate them and bring them back. While hot on the trail, he found himself in the inner city amongst the poor & disadvantaged. Spotting four kids on a street corner, singing cappella, he brought them back to the tower for training.

Alas, the youths, not being used to such a lofty status, got dizzy and fell from the belfry to their death. The assistant ran down the steps and found the Bishop standing near the dead kids.

"What in heaven's name is this?" cried the Bishop.

The assistant responded, "A bad case of urban sprawl."

(L. R. Thoennes)

After the death of the four youths, the Belfry became the scene of numerous revenge pranks from disgruntled youth in the area. The bell would ring at odd times and never on time and correct. One attempt to catch them by the local law enforcement was not successful.

The officer told the Bishop that it was a case of 'hit and run'.

(By Gary Hamrick)

Looking for a way to end the monkey shines of the local youth, the bishop decides he needs to hire a security guard to protect the belfry whether he can ring the bell or not.

One morning while riding in his carriage to the church, happened upon a hitchhiker on the side of the road. The poor blighter looked as if he hadn't seen a decent meal in days, so in his piety he stopped and brought him along for a hot meal and a bath. While eating his breakfast, he asked if he would like a job minding the bell. The man agreed and was soon working hard protecting the belfry.

Every day at noon he would toll the bell just perfectly, and every Sunday he would ring in the worshipers to service.

"He's wonderful!" commented one of the parishioners, "Where ever did you find him?"

"Where else?" the bishop replied "On the toll-way."

(By Gary Hamrick)

"Shortly after this tragedy, the stairs to the tower were sealed and the bell was not heard for years. One day, the priest in charge -- now old and feeble -- was startled to see the local steeplejack running toward the cathedral, loaded with climbing gear.

As he ran past, the steeplejack said, "The king has commanded me to send a message to Lyon. Since the great bell can be heard from far away, my coded message will be passed on."

"Are you sure you can ring the bell safely?" the priest asked.

"That's why I brought all this gear with me." the man answered. He belted up and began the climb, but near the top a strap or belt broke and the steeplejack came hurtling down.

In his speech to the crowd that soon gathered, the old priest explained sadly. "He was making a Lyon-distance toll call and got disconnected!"

(By Gene Child)