For this same dreadful paper re-directed _Punch's_ thoughts into the channel they had taken all that day; thoughts of the sufferings of the poor, the follies of the rich, the sins of the wicked, the miseries of the outcast. Seasonable thoughts, if not exactly festive. For all is not festive, even at the Festive Season. Scandals in high life, starvation in low life; foul floods of nastiness in Law Courts; muddy tricklings of misery in lawless alleys; crimes so terrible and revolting; pains so pitiless and cureless; follies so selfish and wanton, that he let the journal drop, and fell back in his chair, appalled. "Unnatural and cruel, _Toby_!" he cried. "Unnatural and cruel! None but people who were born bad at heart--born bad--who had no business on the earth, could do such deeds. We're Bad!" The Chimes took up the words so suddenly--burst out so loud, clear, and sonorous--that the Bells seemed to strike him in his chair. And what was it that they said? "_Punch_ and _Toby! Toby_ and _Punch_! Waiting for you, _Toby_ and _Punch_! Come and see us! Come and see us! Come and see us! Drag them to us! Haunt and hunt them! Haunt and hunt them. Break their slumbers! Break their slumbers! _Punch, Toby; Toby, Punch; Toby, Punch; Punch, Toby_!!" Then fiercely back to their impetuous strain again, and ringing in the very bricks and plaster on the Sanctum's walls! _Toby_ barked! _Punch_ listened! Fancy, fancy! No, no! Nothing of the kind. Again, again, and yet a dozen times again. "Haunt and hunt them! Haunt and hunt them!" "If the tower is really open," said _Punch_, "what's to hinder us, _Toby_, from going up to the steeple, and seeing for ourselves?" "Nothing," yapped _Toby_, or sounds to that effect. * * * * * [Illustration: 'ARRY OUT 'UNTIN'. _'Arry_ (_who goes to the Meet in a frost_). "'AVE THE 'OUNDS COME, MY LADS?" _Little Girl_ (_respectfully_). "IF YOU PLEASE, SIR, _OUR_ 'OUNDS DON'T 'UNT IN 'ARD WEATHER!"] * * * * * Up, up, up! and round and round; and up, up, up! higher, higher, higher up! There was the belfry where the ringers came. _Punch_ caught hold of one of the frayed ropes which hung down through the apertures in the oaken roof. But he started; other hands seemed on it; he shrank from the thought of waking the deep Bell. The Bells themselves were higher. Higher, _Punch_ and _Toby_, in their fascination, or working out the spell upon them, groped their way; until, ascending through the floor, and pausing, with his head raised just above its beams _Punch_ came among the Bells. It was barely possible to make out their great shapes in the gloom; but there they were. Shadowy, and dark, and dumb. He listened, and then raised a wild "Halloa!" "Halloa!" was mournfully protracted by the echoes. Giddy, confused, and out of breath, _Punch_ looked about him vacantly, and sank down in a swoon. * * * * *