Allegories Of Life Part 1

Allegories of Life.

by Mrs. J. S. Adams.

I.

THE BELLS.

In the steeple of an old church was a beautiful chime of bells, which for many years had rung out joyous peals at the touch of the s.e.xton's hand upon the rope.

"I'll make the air full of music to-morrow," said the white-haired man, as he lay down to his slumbers. "To-morrow is Christmas, and the people shall be glad and gay. Ah, yes! right merry will be the chimes I shall ring them." Soon sleep gathered him in a close embrace, and visions of the morrow's joy flitted over his brain.

At midnight some dark clouds swept over the tower, while darker shadows of discontent fell on the peaceful chime.

Hark! what was that? A low, discordant sound was heard among the bells.

"Here we have been ringing for seven long years," murmured the highest bell in the chime.

"Well, what of it? That's what we are placed here for," said a voice from one of the deeper-toned bells.

"But I have rung long enough. Besides, I am weary of always singing one tone," answered the high bell, in a clear, sharp voice.

"Together we make sweetest harmony," returned the bell next the complainer.

"I well know that, but I am tired of my one tone, while you can bear monotony. For my part, I do not mean to answer to the call of the rope to-morrow."

"What! not ring on Christmas Day!" exclaimed all the bells together.

"No, I don't. You may exclaim as much as you please; but, if you had common sympathy, you would see in a moment how weary I am of singing this one high tone."

"But we all have to give our notes," responded a low, sweet-voiced bell.

"That's just what I mean to change. We are all weary of our notes, and need change."

"But we should have to be recast," said the low-toned bell, sadly.

"Most certainly we should. _I_ should like the fun of that. Now how many of you will be silent in the morning when the old s.e.xton comes to ring us?"

"I will," answered the lowest-toned bell, boldly.

"If part of us are silent and refuse to ring, of what use will the rest be?" said one who had remained quiet until then. "For a chime all of us are needed," she added, sadly.

"That's just the point," remarked the leader. "If all will be still, none will be blamed: the people will think we are worn out and need making over. So we shall be taken down from this tower where we have been so long, and stand a chance of seeing something of the world. For _my_ part, I am tired to death of being up here, and seeing nothing but this quiet valley."

A murmur ran from one to another, till all agreed to be silent on the morrow, though many of the chime would have preferred to ring as usual.

The man who had presented the bells to the church returned at midnight, after a long journey to his native valley, bringing with him a friend, almost solely to hear the beautiful chime on the morrow.

As he pa.s.sed the church, on his way home, the murmuring of the bells was just ceasing. "The wind moves them--the beautiful bells," he said.

"But to-morrow you shall hear how sweet they will sing," he added, casting a loving glance up to the tower where hung the bells.

A few miles from the valley, close to the roadside, stood a cottage inhabited by a man and wife whose only child was fast fading from the world.

"Raise me up a little, mother," said the dying boy, "so I can hear the Christmas chime. It will be the last time I shall hear them here, mother.

Is it almost morning?"

The pale mother wiped the death-dew from his brow and kissed him, saying, "Yes, dear, it's almost morning. The bells will chime soon as the first ray comes over the hills."

Patiently the child sat, pillowed in his bed, till the golden arrows of light flashed over the earth. Day had come, but no chime.

"What can be the matter?" said the anxious mother, as she strained her eyes in the direction of the tower.

What if the old s.e.xton were dead? The thought took all her strength away. If death had taken him first, who would lay her boy tenderly away?

"Is it almost time?"

"Almost, Jimmy, darling. Perhaps the old s.e.xton has slept late."

"Will the bells chime in heaven, mother?"

"Yes, dear, I hope so."

"Will they ring them for me if--if--I--mother! hark! the bells _are_ ringing! The good old s.e.xton has gone to the church at last!"

The boy's eyes glistened with a strange light. In vain the mother listened. No sound came to _her_ ears. All was still as death.

"Oh, how beautiful they sing!" he said, and fell back and died.

Other chimes fell on his ear, sweeter far than the bells of St. Auburn.

For more than an hour the old s.e.xton had been working at the ropes in vain. No sound come forth from either bell.

"What can be the matter?" he exclaimed, nervously. "For seven long years they have not failed to ring out their tones. I'll try once more." And he did so, vigorously.

Just then the figure of a man stood in the doorway. It was the owner of the chime. He had gone to the s.e.xton's house, not hearing the bells at the usual hour, thinking he had overslept; and, not finding him, had sought him at the church.

He tried the ropes himself, but with no more success than the s.e.xton.

"What can it mean?" he said, as he turned sorrowfully away.

It was a sad Christmas in the pleasant valley. To have those sweet sounds missing, and on such a day,--it was a loss to all, and an omen of ill to many.

The next day, workmen were sent to the tower to examine the bells. No defect was perceptible. They were sound and whole, and no mischief-making lad, as some had suggested, had stolen their tongues.

The bells were taken down and carried to a distant city to be recast.

"There! didn't I tell you we should see the world?" said their leader, after they were packed and on their way.