He tried the ropes himself, but with no more success than the sexton.
"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.
"I don't think we are seeing much of it now, in this dark box," answered
one of the bells.
"Wait till we are at our journey's end. We are in a transition state
now. Haven't I listened to the old pastor many a time, and heard him
say those very words? I could not comprehend them then, but I can now.
Oh, how delightful it is to have the prospect of some change before
us!" Thus the old bell chatted to the journey's end, while the other
bells had but little to say.
Three days later they were at the end of their long ride, and placed,
one by one, in a fiery furnace. Instead of murmurs now, their groans
filled the air.
"Oh, for one moment's rest from the heat and the hammer! Oh, that we
were all at the sweet vale of St. Auburn!" said the leader of all their
sorrow.
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