Miracle of the Bells by Russell Janney

Author:Russell Janney [Janney, Russell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Inspirational
ISBN: 9789997502209
Goodreads: 1442745
Publisher: Prentice-Hall, Inc.
Published: 1946-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

That first evening the setting of the sun had stirred his soul. He had climbed the hill to watch it many evenings since. To gain strength from watching it. Now he could not help but point out to his new friend what it meant to him. Even after three years the priest spoke of it with deep reverence—haltingly—for mere words could not for him describe it.

"Look one moment, if you will, Mr. Dunnigan, toward the west. If I did not believe in God, I would now! Is that green mountain not like a great altar? Those pine trees are the giant candlesticks which the setting sun is lighting. See how they seem to drip hot flame on an altar cloth of hickory and birch. And listen!"

Suddenly the whole valley was filled with music—the vibrant ringing of church bells.

Bill Dunnigan had not been especially moved by the sunset. He only half heard Father Paul's rhapsody about it. Ziegfeld had put a "sunset effect" in the Follies one year that seemed just as colorful.

Bill, at that moment, was thinking of several, more personally vital things. Of Olga Treskovna. She was not dead. She had really stood beside him only a moment before. What could he do for her that he had not done? Of this gallant man of God. Could he do something to help this priest? Of his own life—what was he going to do with it? Wasn't it about time he stopped being a quitter? But he was startled out of all questioning reverie when he heard the bells. He almost jumped.

He had completely forgotten Olga Treskovna's most urgent request.

"What is that!" he cried. And something else besides Olga Treskovna's last, pathetic wish was pounding at his brain cells with a sudden, terrific impact.

"Our vesper bells," explained Father Paul, and wondered at the man's sudden animation. "Our five churches ring them together every day at this hour, and when they coincide with such a sunset as this, they are like a glorious Holy Choir singing a benediction for the weary day. Why, sir—"

But ace press agent, Bill Dunnigan, had grasped the shoulders of the priest. There was a wild look in his eyes, his heart was pounding violently, and his voice shook with excitement.

"Your new altar cloth, Father! Don't worry about it! It's in the bag! You're doing your stuff in front of it right now! The thirty-dollar one. One! We'll have half a dozen of 'em! A new one every Sunday! And those lousy bills of yours I couldn't help but see, and those plans you've made about doing good! They're on the make too! Olga Treskovna's funeral! She's not dead! I'm the guy who's been dead for a week! I'm the guy who ought to be picking out his own grave plot! But no more! Whoopee!"

"Mr. Dunnigan, do you feel entirely well?" gasped Father Paul.

"I feel like a million!" shouted Bill Dunnigan. "Father, you and me are going into partnership. We've both been fall-guys! Saps! Buffaloed by a

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