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hee-hee (fwd)

08/13/1998





---------- Forwarded message ----------


> > >After Quasimodo's death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame
> > >sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was ne=
eded.

> > >The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally
> > >and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process.  After o=
bserving
> > >several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided to call =
it a day
> > > -- when an armless man approached him and announced that he was the=
re to apply
> > >for the bell ringer's job.

> > >The bishop was incredulous. "You have no arms!"

> > >"No matter," said the man, "observe!"  He then began striking the
> > bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.

> > >The bishop listened in astonishment, convinced that he had finally
> > >found a suitable replacement for Quasimodo.

> > >Suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped =
and
> > >plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street=
 below.

> > >The stunned bishop rushed to his side.  When he reached the street, =
a crowd
> > >had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music
> > >they had heard only moments before.

> > >As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked=
,
> > >"Bishop, who was this man?"

> > >"I don't know his name," the bishop sadly replied, "but his face rin=
gs a bell."

> > >(WAIT! WAIT! Not through yet)

> > >The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his h=
eart due
> > >to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the bishop co=
ntinued
> > >his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

> > >The first man to approach him said, "Your Excellency, I am the broth=
er of the
> > >poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yes=
terday.
> > >I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this=
 duty."

> > >The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armless m=
an's
> > >brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he gro=
aned,
> > >clutched at his chest and died on the spot.

> > >Two monks, hearing the bishop's cries of grief at this second
> > tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side. "What has happened?" the f=
irst
> > breathlessly asked.

> > >"Who is this poor man?"

> > >"I don't know his name," sighed the distraught bishop, "but he's a
> > dead ringer for his brother."



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Subject: FW: "Humor Us"
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