When I was about seven, my family took a trip to Canada. Homeward bound, we stopped at an old church for Sunday Mass, and to the delight of us children, the kind parishioners allowed us to try our strength tolling the bells. Long ropes hung down into the vestibule, and we clung tightly to them, tugging hard. “Thrilling” hardly describes it.
Mulling over that experience recently, I became acutely aware of the presence of bells all around me. Church, literature, movies — it was almost inescapable, and rather moving. Bells feature, sometimes prominently, in the masterful tales of Brian Jacques, and one of his books — Mariel of Redwall — includes a meaningful poem on the subject:
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