apes. He saw
them ugly, handsome, crippled, exquisitely formed. He saw them young,
he saw them old; he saw them kind, he saw them cruel; he saw them
merry, he saw them grim; he saw them dance, he heard them sing; he saw
them tear their hair, he heard them howl. He saw the air thick with
them.

_Wh-o-o-o-sh!_ With what a wild whirr of startled wings the owls and
bats scurried away, dim spectral hiding things that love the darkness
and the silence of night, and shrink from light and cheerful sounds!
"Well rid of _you_!" murmured _Punch_, as _Toby_ barked at the flying
phantoms.

But among the other swarming sprites, and circling elfs, and frolic
phantoms of the Bells, _Punch_ beheld brighter things. That pleasant
pair, hand in hand, princely-looking both, and loving withal, bring a
music as of marriage-bells "all in the wild March morning." And those
other goodly and gracious presences, hint they not of Health and
Home Happiness, and Benignant Art, and Humanity-serving Science, of
Electric Sympathy, and Ready Rescue, of Mammon-thwarting Reform, and
Misery-staying Benevolence; of all the spiritual charities and fairy
graces that can bless and brighten country and hearth, Sire and
citizen, master and servant, employer and employed, struggling man,
suffering woman and helpless child? _Punch_ read in their whirling
forms and expressive faces the signs and promise of all the best and
brightest influences of the time, happy and opportune attendants upon
the auspicious hour of this the opening day of the New Year!

* * * * *

_Bim, Bom, Boom!!! Clang, Cling, Clang_!!! What are those hands
tugging at the ropes, swinging the Bells big and little, evoking the
stormy clashes and soothing cadences of the Chimes?

Surely those of the youthful New Year himself! An echo from the
long-silent lips of the great Christmas-glorifier and lover of poor
humanity seemed to ring in _Punch's_ ears:--

"Who hears in us, the Chimes, one note bespeaking disregard, or stern
regard, of any hope, or joy or pain, or sorrow, of the many-sorrowed
throng; who hears us make response to any creed that gauges human
passions and affections, as it gauges the amount of miserable food on
which humanity may pine and wither, does us wrong!"

"Right you are!" cried _Punch_, cordially, _Toby_ yapping assent.

He might have said more, but the Bells, the dear familiar Bells,
his own dear constant, steady friends, the Chimes, bega