At Hatherleigh, a small town in Devon, exist two remarkable customs:—one, that every morning and evening, soon after the church clock has struck five and nine, a bell from the same steeple announces by distant strokes the number of the day of the month—originally intended, perhaps, for the information of the unlearned villagers: the other is, that after a funeral the church bells ring a lively peal, as in other places after a wedding; and to this custom the parishioners are perfectly reconciled by the consideration that the deceased is removed from a scene of trouble to a state of rest and peace.
When Mr. Colman read his Opera of “Inkle and Yarico” to the late Dr. Mosely, the Doctor made no reply during the progress of the piece. At the conclusion, Colman asked what he thought of it. “It won’t do,” said the Doctor, “Stuff—nonsense.” Every body else having been delighted with it, this decided disapprobation puzzled the circle; he was asked why? “I’ll tell you why,” answered the Critic; “you say in the finale—
‘Now let us dance and sing,
While all Barbadoe’s bells do ring.’
It won’t do—there is but one bell in all the island!”
With a citation from the poet of Erin, the present notice will “ring out” delightfully.
Evening Bells.
Those evening bells, those evening bells,
How many a tale their music tells,
Of youth and home, and that sweet time
Since last I heard their soothing chime.
Those joyous hours are passed away,
And many a friend that then was gay,
Within the tomb now darkly dwells,
And hears no more those evening bells.