Ding dong I'll name that tune in one

Boston is a city of competitive bell ringing.

I'm certain that this is true, even though I can find no written confirmation in any guidebook or online.

Yesterday, (Saturday) we walked the Freedom Trail in the rain.  We followed the red brick road, clicked our heels and learnt about how awful the British were.  It was a trail of churches, burying grounds and recommended coffee stops.

We stood under the eaves of Park Street Church at midday, struggling into our waterproof trousers, when the bells began to chime. Not the clunky peel of parallel fifths, with the occasional mistimed note British campanologists manage. This was something else.
"What's that tune?" asked the Long Suffering Husband.
We both agreed we knew but couldn't quite name the piece, although we did think it was probably Mozart. It was seamless. No pauses. No indication that bells were played by individuals. We turned the corner and heard that the bells of King Street Chapel were playing a different tune, this time a hymn and the organ was playing it too; perfectly in time.

After 12 miles of walking in the 'worst rain we've seen in ages - it's  been manic' we sat in our hotel room, exhausted, staring at the wall, listening.
"Are those church bells really playing Ode to Joy, or am I hallucinating?"
They were. They ran through their whole repertoire, including Christmas carols and things I couldn't name for a whole hour.

It's not an easy thing to play tunes on Church bells. It's like that game I sometimes play with a class where they have to sing one note of a song around a circle. It rarely ends up right and even if it is recognisable your ear compensates for the lack of rhythmic accuracy.

I like to think that each church had drawn the best and brightest from across the river from the Harvard Colleges or MIT to compete with each other. I can imagine a tower full of particle physicists timing their rings to the nearest jiffy.