Every town in Belgium has its "belfry," a tower rising over some
venerable building, from which, in the days of almost constant
warfare, a beacon used to blaze, or a bell ring out, to call the
citizens to arms. The belfry of Bruges is, I think, the finest of them
all. If you have ever been to Bruges you can never forget it. It rises
high above the market-place. All day long, year after year, the chimes
ring every quarter of an hour; and all night too, unceasingly, through
winter storm and summer moonlight, the belfry pours forth its
perpetual lament over the dead city.
Not far from Bruges, only forty minutes by railway, is another ancient
town called Ghent; but instead of being dead like Bruges, it is alive
and busy. In the days of old the people of Ghent were the most
independent and brave in Belgium. In the belfry there was a famous
bell called "Roland," and if any of their rulers attempted to tax them
against their will, this Roland was rung, and wagged his iron tongue
so well that the townsmen armed themselves at once, and the
tax-gatherers were driven away. It was no easy task to rule them, as
all who tried it found to their cost.
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