Every town has a church, and every church has a bell.
In the small towns and villages, as night falls, the people come alive. Couples stroll along the narrow streets, sometimes hand in hand; The occasional man or woman hurries along, as though fearing to be late for who knows what; children of all ages scurry about, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying. The church bells call out cadence to all that happens and all that does not.
Just Plain Bud 