{"product_id":"2940012681294","title":"THE CHIMES","description":"CHAPTER I--First Quarter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHere are not many people--and as it is desirable that a story-\u003cbr\u003eteller and a story-reader should establish a mutual understanding\u003cbr\u003eas soon as possible, I beg it to be noticed that I confine this\u003cbr\u003eobservation neither to young people nor to little people, but\u003cbr\u003eextend it to all conditions of people:  little and big, young and\u003cbr\u003eold:  yet growing up, or already growing down again--there are not,\u003cbr\u003eI say, many people who would care to sleep in a church.  I don't\u003cbr\u003emean at sermon-time in warm weather (when the thing has actually\u003cbr\u003ebeen done, once or twice), but in the night, and alone.  A great\u003cbr\u003emultitude of persons will be violently astonished, I know, by this\u003cbr\u003eposition, in the broad bold Day.  But it applies to Night.  It must\u003cbr\u003ebe argued by night, and I will undertake to maintain it\u003cbr\u003esuccessfully on any gusty winter's night appointed for the purpose,\u003cbr\u003ewith any one opponent chosen from the rest, who will meet me singly\u003cbr\u003ein an old churchyard, before an old church-door; and will\u003cbr\u003epreviously empower me to lock him in, if needful to his\u003cbr\u003esatisfaction, until morning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor the night-wind has a dismal trick of wandering round and round\u003cbr\u003ea building of that sort, and moaning as it goes; and of trying,\u003cbr\u003ewith its unseen hand, the windows and the doors; and seeking out\u003cbr\u003esome crevices by which to enter.  And when it has got in; as one\u003cbr\u003enot finding what it seeks, whatever that may be, it wails and howls\u003cbr\u003eto issue forth again:  and not content with stalking through the\u003cbr\u003eaisles, and gliding round and round the pillars, and tempting the\u003cbr\u003edeep organ, soars up to the roof, and strives to rend the rafters:\u003cbr\u003ethen flings itself despairingly upon the stones below, and passes,\u003cbr\u003emuttering, into the vaults.  Anon, it comes up stealthily, and\u003cbr\u003ecreeps along the walls, seeming to read, in whispers, the\u003cbr\u003eInscriptions sacred to the Dead.  At some of these, it breaks out\u003cbr\u003eshrilly, as with laughter; and at others, moans and cries as if it\u003cbr\u003ewere lamenting.  It has a ghostly sound too, lingering within the\u003cbr\u003ealtar; where it seems to chaunt, in its wild way, of Wrong and\u003cbr\u003eMurder done, and false Gods worshipped, in defiance of the Tables\u003cbr\u003eof the Law, which look so fair and smooth, but are so flawed and\u003cbr\u003ebroken.  Ugh!  Heaven preserve us, sitting snugly round the fire!\u003cbr\u003eIt has an awful voice, that wind at Midnight, singing in a church!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut, high up in the steeple!  There the foul blast roars and\u003cbr\u003ewhistles!  High up in the steeple, where it is free to come and go\u003cbr\u003ethrough many an airy arch and loophole, and to twist and twine\u003cbr\u003eitself about the giddy stair, and twirl the groaning weathercock,\u003cbr\u003eand make the very tower shake and shiver!  High up in the steeple,\u003cbr\u003ewhere the belfry is, and iron rails are ragged with rust, and\u003cbr\u003esheets of lead and copper, shrivelled by the changing weather,\u003cbr\u003ecrackle and heave beneath the unaccustomed tread; and birds stuff\u003cbr\u003eshabby nests into corners of old oaken joists and beams; and dust\u003cbr\u003egrows old and grey; and speckled spiders, indolent and fat with\u003cbr\u003elong security, swing idly to and fro in the vibration of the bells,\u003cbr\u003eand never loose their hold upon their thread-spun castles in the\u003cbr\u003eair, or climb up sailor-like in quick alarm, or drop upon the\u003cbr\u003eground and ply a score of nimble legs to save one life!  High up in\u003cbr\u003ethe steeple of an old church, far above the light and murmur of the\u003cbr\u003etown and far below the flying clouds that shadow it, is the wild\u003cbr\u003eand dreary place at night:  and high up in the steeple of an old\u003cbr\u003echurch, dwelt the Chimes I tell of.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were old Chimes, trust me.  Centuries ago, these Bells had\u003cbr\u003ebeen baptized by bishops:  so many centuries ago, that the register\u003cbr\u003eof their baptism was lost long, long before the memory of man, and\u003cbr\u003eno one knew their names.  They had had their Godfathers and\u003cbr\u003eGodmothers, these Bells (for my own part, by the way, I would\u003cbr\u003erather incur the responsibility of being Godfather to a Bell than a\u003cbr\u003eBoy), and had their silver mugs no doubt, besides.  But Time had\u003cbr\u003emowed down their sponsors, and Henry the Eighth had melted down\u003cbr\u003etheir mugs; and they now hung, nameless and mugless, in the church-\u003cbr\u003etower.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot speechless, though.  Far from it.  They had clear, loud, lusty,\u003cbr\u003esounding voices, had these Bells; and far and wide they might be\u003cbr\u003eheard upon the wind.","brand":"SAP","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47078906626288,"sku":"2940012681294","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940012681294_p0.jpg?v=1763571394","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940012681294","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}