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Updated: June 3, 2025
If there is no music within Italian churches, there is a most curious local immemorial music in many a campanile on the heights. Their way is for the ringers to play a tune on the festivals, and the tunes are not hymn tunes or popular melodies, but proper bell-tunes, made for bells.
The church-bells had struck up again now a last tune, before the ringers came down the hill to have their share in the festival; and before the bells had finished, other music was heard approaching, so that even Old Brown, the sober horse that was drawing Mr. Poyser's cart, began to prick up his ears.
After a long period of dust and darkness, and the monotony of always going with the same leg foremost, came a narrow door, leading to the ringers' region, with all their ropes hanging down. Ethel was thankful when she had got her youngsters past without an essay on them; she doubted if she should have succeeded, but for Leonard's being an element of soberness.
"Uh-huh!" said Munn, following the gesture with his quiet eyes. He puffed several times before he spoke again. "What time did you come in, Brenner, from the beach?" Mrs. Brenner closed her hands tightly, the interlaced ringers locking themselves. "Oh, about forty minutes ago, I guess it was. Wasn't it, Olga?" Mart said carelessly. "Yes." Her voice was a breath. "Was your boy out to-day?"
I do like you, better than any one else. You know that, dear old Jim." He smiled wistfully. "If you didn't like me so well I reckon I'd have a better chance. Well, I mustn't keep you here. Good night." Her ringers were lost in his big fist. "Good night, Jim." And again she added, "I'm so sorry." "Don't you be. It's all right with me, Phyl. I just thought I'd mention it.
"Ringers" particularly in the magistrates' courts are by no means unknown. Sometimes they appear even in the higher courts. "Mock Duck," the celebrated Highbinder of Chinatown, who was set free after two lengthy trials for murder, was charged not long ago with a second assassination.
On the show-room side of the door, painted mauve within and not without, mannequins, so pink finger-tipped, so tilted of instep, and so bred in the thrust to the silhouette, trailed these sleazy products of thick ringers across mauve-colored carpet and before the appraising eyes of twenty states.
Where have I strayed? ... what have I seen? ... Ah, let not my rough speech fright thee back to Paradise! ... Stay with me! ... comfort me! ... I have lost thee so long! let me not lose thee now!" Smiling still, she bent over him, and pressed her warm, delicate ringers lightly on his brow and lips. Then softly she rose and stood erect.
Now when the woman addressed this funny kind of talk to him, he answered her in her own way, as he imagined, readily enough: "Hey diddle-diddle, the cat's in the fiddle, fe fo fi fum, chumpty-chumpty-chum, with bings on her ringers, and tells on her boes." They all listened with grave attention, as if he had said something very important. Then the woman continued: "Huanatopa ana ana quiltahou."
He stooped and clutched the broken war axe, grasping the stone head in the palm of his great hand, the jagged and ironlike shaft projecting from between his ringers like the blade of a dagger. With the leap of a wild beast he sprang again upon his foe. White Calf half turned, but the left hand of the giant caught him and held him up against the fatal stroke.
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