“Cover the embers, And put out the light; Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night. “Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire; Sound fades into silence; All footsteps retire. “No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall; Sleep and oblivion Reign over all!” With all this, and what I have now said, I think I may claim that I—the Tower—have fully discharged the general duty of public usefulness, and am a great public benefactor. My beacon pail is no longer required; but by my weather-cock I tell the direction of the wind; by my clock I tell the time of day; and by the final strokes of my curfew bell at night, I act as an almanac, and tell the day of the month—for the benefit not only of my neighbours, but to the great multitude of the passers-by. {108} And let it not be forgotten that all this implies not only the discharge of public duty, but also the expenditure of money, necessary to keep the various arrangements for these in correct and working order—money which has to be provided by the parish of St. Giles. Opinions as to the desirability of the ringing of the _Church Bells_ in towns differ, as we know, considerably. And every now and then we read a letter in a newspaper in condemnation of them. But I believe that those who think thus are in a very small minority. I have said how well they emphasize such occasions as weddings, and funerals. And I think they most appropriately add to the expression of public rejoicing on such occasions as the election of a new Mayor, or a royal visit, or a royal anniversary—or especially on the eve of such a great Christian festival as Christmas or Easter. But beyond all this, I (the Tower) consider that they are in the best sense public music, and that when well rung this music is of a very high order indeed. Who does not recognise the grandeur of the great twelve-bell peal of St. Peter Mancroft, as rung by the skilled ringers of that church, or the solemnity imparted to a public mourning by the muffled peal occasionally rung, on the departure from this world of some great local or national citizen? In country villages I know that the possession of a good peal of church bells is usually very highly appreciated, and the practice of the ringing cannot be otherwise than an excellent musical training for the young men of the parish. It is curious how little regard _Jackdaws_ pay to the noise of clanging bells. In my tower, as elsewhere, they habitually build their nests, and rear their young, apparently quite free from alarm at the noise. From their constant selection of church towers as breeding places, may we not suppose that these birds have ears for music, or may even practice singing amongst their family parties, to the accompanying chimes?