What The Bells Saw And Said
"Bells ring others to church, but go not in themselves."
No one saw the spirits of the bells up there in the old steeple at midnight on Christmas
Eve. Six quaint figures, each wrapped in a shadowy cloak and wearing a bell-shaped cap.
All were gray-headed, for they were among the oldest bell-spirits of the city, and "the
light of other days" shone in their thoughtful eyes. Silently they sat, looking down on the
snow-covered roofs glittering in the moonlight, and the quiet streets deserted by all but
the watchmen on their chilly rounds, and such poor souls as wandered shelterless in the
winter night. Presently one of the spirits said, in a tone, which, low as it was, filled the
belfry with reverberating echoes,--
"Well, brothers, are your reports ready of the year that now lies dying?"
All bowed their heads, and one of the oldest answered in a sonorous voice:--
"My report isn't all I could wish. You know I look down on the commercial part of our
city and have fine opportunities for seeing what goes on there. It's my business to watch
the business men, and upon my word I'm heartily ashamed of them sometimes. During
the war they did nobly, giving their time and money, their sons and selves to the good
cause, and I was proud of them. But now too many of them have fallen back into the old
ways, and their motto seems to be, 'Every one for himself, and the devil take the
hindmost.' Cheating, lying and stealing are hard words, and I don't mean to apply them to
_all_ who swarm about below there like ants on an ant-hill--_they_ have other names for
these things, but I'm old-fashioned and use plain words. There's a deal too much
dishonesty in the world, and business seems to have become a game of hazard in which
luck, not labor, wins the prize. When I was young, men were years making moderate
fortunes, and were satisfied with them. They built them on sure foundations, knew how to
enjoy them while they lived, and to leave a good name behind them when they died.
"Now it's anything for money; health, happiness, honor, life itself, are flung down on that
great gaming-table, and they forget everything else in the excitement of success or the
desperation of defeat. Nobody seems satisfied either, for those who win have little time or
taste to enjoy their prosperity, and those who lose have little courage or patience to
support them in adversity. They don't even fail as they used to. In my day when a
merchant found himself embarrassed he didn't ruin others in order to save himself, but
honestly confessed the truth, gave up everything, and began again. But now-a-days after
all manner of dishonorable shifts there comes a grand crash; many suffer, but by some
hocus-pocus the merchant saves enough to retire upon and live comfortably here or
abroad. It's very evident that honor and honesty don't mean now what they used to mean
in the days of old May, Higginson and Lawrence.
