_-_p._50.png)
THE BELL-DEEP.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” how the sound rises up from the Bell-deep, in the little river by the Odense on the island of Funen. “Do you call the Au a river?” “Yes; every child in the town knows the Au, which streams round the gardens, and flows under the wooden bridges, and turns the watermill wheel.”
In this river grow yellow water-lilies and brown feathery reeds, the velvet leaves of the flag droop over the stream, tall and thickly, near the monastery meadow, and where the linen is washed and bleached by rubbing and dipping.
But on the slopes of the town are gardens upon gardens, some of them filled with all sorts of pretty flowers and shrubs, forming tiny bowers and pleasure-grounds, while others have only cabbage and vegetables.
Sometimes these gardens cannot be seen at all from a distance, for the large elder trees that grow near them spread out their branches and hang over the flowing waters, which here are so deep that even an oar cannot touch the bottom.
Opposite the old nunnery is the deepest spot, and there dwells what is called the “Bell-deep,” and people say it is a “Water Spirit,” who sleeps the whole day while the sun shines on the water; but when night comes, and the moon shines, or the stars twinkle, his deep voice is heard.
He is very old; grandmamma says she has heard her own grandmother speak of him. He dwells there mostly alone, although in years gone by he had a friend in the old church bell, which then hung in the tower; but the old church and the bell, even the tower itself, are gone now, and no traces of where the building once stood can be found. It was named the Church of the Holy St. Albans.
“Ding dong, ding dong,” said the bell one evening, while the church and the tower were still standing; and while the sun was setting, and the bell swinging, it suddenly broke loose and came flying down through the air, the brilliant metal glistening in the rays of the setting sun. “Ding dong,
