Many find wealth no temptation to forgetfulness of duty or hardness of heart . Many give freely of their abundance , pity the poor , comfort the afflicted , and make our city loved and honored in other lands as in our own . They have their cares , losses , and heartaches as well as the poor ; it is n't all sunshine with them , and they learn , poor souls , that '' ` Into each life some rain must fall , Some days must be dark and dreary . ' `` But I 've hopes of them , and lately they have had a teacher so genial , so gifted , so well-beloved that all who listen to him must be better for the lessons of charity , good-will and cheerfulness which he brings home to them by the magic of tears and smiles . We know him , we love him , we always remember him as the year comes round , and the blithest song our brazen tongues utter is a Christmas carol to the Father of ` The Chimes ! ' '' As the spirit spoke his voice grew cheery , his old face shone , and in a burst of hearty enthusiasm he flung up his cap and cheered like a boy . So did the others , and as the fairy shout echoed through the belfry a troop of shadowy figures , with faces lovely or grotesque , tragical or gay , sailed by on the wings of the wintry wind and waved their hands to the spirits of the bells . As the excitement subsided and the spirits reseated themselves , looking ten years younger for that burst , another spoke . A venerable brother in a dingy mantle , with a tuneful voice , and eyes that seemed to have grown sad with looking on much misery . `` He loves the poor , the man we 've just hurrahed for , and he makes others love and remember them , bless him ! '' said the spirit . `` I hope he 'll touch the hearts of those who listen to him here and beguile them to open their hands to my unhappy children over yonder . If I could set some of the forlorn souls in my parish beside the happier creatures who weep over imaginary woes as they are painted by his eloquent lips , that brilliant scene would be better than any sermon . Day and night I look down on lives as full of sin , self-sacrifice and suffering as any in those famous books . Day and night I try to comfort the poor by my cheery voice , and to make their wants known by proclaiming them with all my might . But people seem to be so intent on business , pleasure or home duties that they have no time to hear and answer my appeal . There 's a deal of charity in this good city , and when the people do wake up they work with a will ; but I ca n't help thinking that if some of the money lavished on luxuries was spent on necessaries for the poor , there would be fewer tragedies like that which ended yesterday . It 's a short story , easy to tell , though long and hard to live ; listen to it . `` Down yonder in the garret of one of the squalid houses at the foot of my tower , a little girl has lived for a year , fighting silently and single-handed a good fight against poverty and sin . I saw her when she first came , a hopeful , cheerful , brave-hearted little soul , alone , yet not afraid .
She used to sit all day sewing at her window , and her lamp burnt far into the XXXXX , for she was very poor , and all she earned would barely give her food and shelter .
Day Father days fall first garret heartaches night year years