WHY THE BELLS SANG
TIRRA-ling-a-ting-ding-dong!—Sang the bells, and the stars sparkled in the sky. The silver moonlight shone down softly on the streets of the city, making the weathercock on the blackened steeple glitter like gold, and throwing a tender radiance on the resting-places of the dead beneath. Silently the light stole along the street like the touch of an angel's wing, while the footsteps that sounded sharply on the smooth pavement told that rest comes late to many of earth's toiling ones in the busy town.
The bright patches on walls and roof still crept on, till the light shone straight down into one of the windows, as if moon and stars had an especial errand in there. And so they had; for there was no candle, and the small fire, though burning clear and red, did not flame, so the moonbeams came in and did duty for both.
They lighted up Corrie's bright curls as she lay quietly hugged in Robin's arms, and showed him the smiles on her pretty pale face as he talked to her in a low tone.
"Hark! Corrie! Do you hear the bells?"
"Pretty bells," whispered Corrie; "why do they ring to-night?"
"Because Christmas is coming, Corrie, and the ringers want to practise so that the bells may sing prettily on Christmas morning."
"Do they sing words, Robin?"
"Yes, I think so, Corrie, but it is not everybody that hears them; they are telling about Jesus Christ and the angels. You might think they would get tired of saying it over and over again; but you know, every year there are more little babies born who have never heard about it before; and so they will always sing."
"What is the story, Robin?"