lest ear
can understand. We have wandered from the Androscoggin in Maine to the
Tombigbee in Alabama, and we never found a brook, that "babbled." The
people babble who talk about them, not knowing what a brook is. We have
heard about the nightingale and the morning lark till we tire of them.
Catch for your next prayer meeting talk a chewink or a brown thresher. It
is high time that we hoist our church windows, especially those over the
pulpit, and let in some fresh air from the fields and mountains.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CHRISTMAS BELLS.

The sexton often goes into the tower on a sad errand. He gives a strong
pull at the rope, and forth from the tower goes a dismal sound that makes
the heart sink. But he can now go up the old stairs with a lithe step and
pull quick and sharp, waking up all the echoes of cavern and hill with
Christmas bells. The days of joy have come, days of reunion, days of
congratulation. "Behold I bring you good tidings of great joy that shall be
to all people."

First, let the bells ring at the birth of Jesus! Mary watching, the camels
moaning, the shepherds rousing up, the angels hovering, all Bethlehem
stirring. What a night! Out of its black wing is plucked the pen from which
to write the brightest songs of earth and the richest doxologies of heaven.
Let camel or ox stabled that night in Bethlehem, after the burden-bearing
of the day, stand and look at Him who is to carry the burdens of the world.
Put back the straw and hear the first cry of Him who is come to assuage the
lamentation of all ages.

Christmas bells ring out the peace of nations! We want on our standards
less of the lion and eagle and more of the dove. Let all the cannon be
dismounted, and the war horses change their gorgeous caparisons for plough
harness. Let us have fewer bullets and more bread. Life is too precious to
dash it out against the brick casements. The first Peace Society was born
in the clouds, and its resolution was passed unanimously by angelic
voices, "Peace on earth, good-will to men."

Christmas bells ring in family reunions! The rail trains crowded with
children coming home. The poultry, fed as never since they were born, stand
wondering at the farmer's generosity. The markets are full of massacred
barnyards. The great table will be spread and crowded with two, or three,
or four generations. Plant the fork astride the breast bone, and with
skillful twitch, that we could never learn, give to all the hungr