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Why the chimes rang.By Raymond McAlden
In The Childrens Book of Christmas Stories.
Start of Story
There was once in a faraway country where few people have ever
travelled, a wonderful church. It stood on a high hill in the midst of a
great city; and every Sunday, as well as on sacred days like Christmas,
thousands of people climbed the hill to its great archways, looking like
lines of ants all moving in the same direction.
When you came to the building itself, you found stone columns and dark
passages, and a grand entrance leading to the main room of the church.
This room was so long that one standing at the doorway could scarcely
see to the other end, where the choir stood by the marble altar. In
the farthest corner was the organ; and this organ was so loud, that
sometimes when it played, the people for miles around would close their
shutters and prepare for a great thunderstorm. Altogether, no such
church as this was ever seen before, especially when it was lighted
up for some festival, and crowded with people, young and old. But the
strangest thing about the whole building was the wonderful chime of
At one corner of the church was a great gray tower, with ivy growing
over it as far up as one could see. I say as far as one could see,
because the tower was quite great enough to fit the great church, and it
rose so far into the sky that it was only in very fair weather that
any one claimed to be able to see the top. Even then one could not be
certain that it was in sight. Up, and up, and up climbed the stones and
the ivy; and as the men who built the church had been dead for hundreds
of years, every one had forgotten how high the tower was supposed to be.
Now all the people knew that at the top of the tower was a chime of
Christmas bells. They had hung there ever since the church had been
built, and were the most beautiful bells in the world. Some thought it
was because a great musician had cast them and arranged them in their
place; others said it was because of the great height, which reached up
where the air was clearest and purest; however that might be no one
who had ever heard the chimes denied that they were the sweetest in the
world. Some described them as sounding like angels far up in the sky;
others as sounding like strange winds singing through the trees.
But the fact was that no one had heard them for years and years. There
was an old man living not far from the church who said that his mother
had spoken of hearing them when she was a little girl, and he was the
only one who was sure of as much as that. They were Christmas chimes,
you see, and were not meant to be played by men or on common days.
It was the custom on Christmas Eve for all the people to bring to the
church their offerings to the Christ-Child; and when the greatest and
best offering was laid on the altar there used to come sounding through
the music of the choir the Christmas chimes far up in the tower. Some
said that the wind rang them, and others, that they were so high that
the angels could set them swinging. But for many long years they had
never been heard. It was said that people had been growing less careful
of their gifts for the Christ-Child, and that no offering was brought
great enough to deserve the music of the chimes.
Every Christmas Eve the rich people still crowded to the altar, each one
trying to bring some better gift than any other, without giving anything
that he wanted for himself, and the church was crowded with those who
thought that perhaps the wonderful bells might be heard again. But
although the service was splendid, and the offerings plenty, only the
roar of the wind could be heard, far up in the stone tower.
Now, a number of miles from the city, in a little country village, where
nothing could be seen of the great church but glimpses of the tower when
the weather was fine, lived a boy named Pedro, and his little brother.
They knew very little about the Christmas chimes, but they had heard of
the service in the church on Christmas Eve, and had a secret plan
which they had often talked over when by themselves, to go to see the
"Nobody can guess, Little Brother," Pedro would say; "all the fine
things there are to see and hear; and I have even heard it said that the
Christ-Child sometimes comes down to bless the service. What if we could
The day before Christmas was bitterly cold, with a few lonely snowflakes
flying in the air, and a hard white crust on the ground. Sure enough
Pedro and Little Brother were able to slip quietly away early in the
afternoon; and although the walking was hard in the frosty air, before
nightfall they had trudged so far, hand in hand, that they saw the
lights of the big city just ahead of them. Indeed they were about to
enter one of the great gates in the wall that surrounded it, when they
saw something dark on the snow near their path, and stepped aside to
look at it.