life without prejudice to the life
to come. I was glad to see such a model English priest so suitably
accommodated with an old English church. He kindly and courteously did the
honors, showing us quite round the interior, giving us all the information
that we required, and then leaving us to the quiet enjoyment of what we
came to see.

The interior of Saint Botolph's is very fine and satisfactory, as stately,
almost, as a cathedral, and has been repaired--so far as repairs were
necessary--in a chaste and noble style. The great eastern window is of
modern painted glass, but is the richest, mellowest, and tenderest modern
window that I have ever seen: the art of painting these glowing
transparencies in pristine perfection being one that the world has lost.
The vast, clear space, of the interior church delighted me. There was no
screen,--nothing between the vestibule and the altar to break the long
vista; even the organ stood aside,--though it by-and-by made us aware of
its presence by a melodious roar. Around the walls there were old engraved
brasses, and a stone coffin, and an alabaster knight of Saint John, and an
alabaster lady, each recumbent at full length, as large as life, and in
perfect preservation, except for a slight modern touch at the tips of
their noses. In the chancel we saw a great deal of oaken work, quaintly
and admirably carved, especially about the seats formerly appropriated to
the monks, which were so contrived as to tumble down with a tremendous
crash, if the occupant happened to fall asleep.

We now essayed to climb into the upper regions. Up we went, winding and
still winding round the circular stairs, till we came to the gallery
beneath the stone roof of the tower, whence we could look down and see the
raised Fort, and my Talma lying on one of the steps, and looking about as
big as a pocket-handkerchief. Then up again, up, up, up, through a yet
smaller staircase, till we emerged into another stone gallery, above the
jackdaws, and far above the roof beneath which we had before made a halt.
Then up another flight, which led us into a pinnacle of the temple, but
not the highest; so, retracing our steps, we took the right turret this
time, and emerged into the loftiest lantern, where we saw level
Lincolnshire, far and near, though with a haze on the distant horizon.
There were dusty roads, a river, and canals, converging towards Boston,
which--a congregation of red-tiled roofs--lay beneath our feet,