Page:Blackwood's Magazine volume 147.djvu/257

quire the pen of a Ruskin. This much may be said. At the height of their prosperity the inhabitants showed a grateful spirit for the blessings bestowed. The expression found vent in the building of a church, which they dedicated to St Botolph, the patron saint of sailors,—much of their wealth and power came from over the sea, guarded and guided by that protecting arm. Dame Margery Tilney laid the first stone of the present Boston church in the year 1309, putting £5 upon it, Sir John Twesdale, the vicar, and Richard Stevenson doing the same. Leland said, “For a parish church it is the best and fayrest of al Lincolnshire, and served so with singing, and that of cunning men, as no paroche is in al England.” They keep up this record in the present day, and have made the organ, as the verger puts it, “a speciality.” How lovingly this beautiful church is kept in repair, how the people flock to the service on Sunday mornings, and how justly proud are they all of their steeple, need not be told here.

It is curious that Boston of today fails to suggest the proud position she once held. With the exception of the bit of old Pescod House, and some ancient houses in Spain Lane, there is little or nothing remaining to tell of the wealth and power once enjoyed. Those in Spain Lane were probably the warehouse of the De Spayne family, who are known to have had transactions with the guilds. They are three tumble-down ecclesiastical-looking places, with windows in odd and unexpected spots under the erratic and dark-coloured roof, and walls several feet thick, now sunk somewhat below the level of the pavement. Apparently they were last used as a corn warehouse, and are fast going to decay. On the other side of the lane, in striking contrast, is a hideous modern mill, of red glowing brick without, and a never-ceasing rumble of oil-crushing machinery within.

When the Reformation came, Boston suffered, as did most other towns; but Henry made ample amends for the injury he had done in dissolving the religious houses, the wealth and influence of which were extensive. He granted the town a charter, with a mayor and corporation. The charter is dated May 14, 1546, and a copy of it hangs in the city hall of Boston, in America, in a frame of wood taken from old Boston church.

Times were once more changing in Boston—changing, sad to relate, for the worse. Fate and fashion were against it, and even a mayor and corporation could do little to stay the downward movement. A force was at work beside that which was regenerating the spiritual being of the English people—the force of the consciousness of a new power, of a new life. The dream of El Dorado might possibly be realised in the New World. There a channel was opening for the energetic and sturdy descendants of the Normans and Danes. Their love of adventure and of the sea, with its concomitant dangers, had been perhaps lying dormant during those years of steady money-making. But this was the time, and there was the place. The New World offered no end of “openings for a young man.” The race for wealth began then, and has continued, and somehow old Boston is left behind.

Most of the trade of England at one time was with Holland, France, and Flanders, to the eastward; and consequently, when the Cape of Good Hope and America were discovered, the trade-route gradu-