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.
"How sweetly would we sing!" echoed all.
"It's a terrible thing to be recast!" sighed the deepest-toned bell; and he quivered with fear as they placed him in the furnace.
At last, after much suffering, they were pronounced perfect, and repacked for their return.