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When I asked my aurist about this he wanted to know if any particular incidents of my childhood were connected with the ringing of bells. I could remember two. It was the custom, years ago, for the sexton of the Unitarian Church to come and strike the bell when any member of the community died. There was one stroke for each year of their age. That was the method of carrying the news. The sexton did not pull the rope, but climbed into the belfry and pulled the tongue of the bell with a string. It was my duty to count the strokes, and thus convey the news to my deaf aunt. In that community we knew each other so well that this tolling the age gave us as much about it as one would now get over the telephone. And then the bell on the Orthodox Church over in the next valley! That always rang on Sunday, before our bell did, and I heard it softly and musically as the sound floated over us. I had been taught to believe that the Orthodox people had a very hard and cruel religion, and I used to wonder how their bell could carry such soft music. When I spoke of this the aurist smiled understandingly and said it fully explained why these musical sounds now come back to my weary brain.