of conscience is a natural right,
and he that would have it, ought to
give it, having liberty to settle
what he likes for the public....
This I say is fundamental: it ought
to be so. It is for us and the
generations to come.'--OLIVER
CROMWELL._

XXIII. BUTTERFLIES IN THE FELLS

Above all other Saints in the Calendar, the good people of
Newcastle-upon-Tyne do hold in highest honour Saint Nicholas, since to
him is dedicated the stately Church that is the pride and glory of
their town. Everyone who dwells in the bonnie North Countrie knows
well that shrine of Saint Nicholas, set on high on the steep northern
bank of the River Tyne. Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole
North, is St. Nicholas. Therefore, in olden times, one Roger Thornton,
a wealthy merchant of the town, saw fit to embellish it yet further
with a window at the Eastern end, of glass stained with colours
marvellous to behold. Men said indeed that Merchant Roger clearly owed
that window to the Saint, seeing that when he first entered the town
scarce a dozen years before, he came but as a poor pedlar, possessed
of naught but 'a hap, a halfpenny, and a lambskin,' whereas these few
years spent under the shadow of the Saint's protection had made him
already a man of great estate.

Roger Thornton it was who gave the Eastern window to the Church, but
none know now, for certain, who first embellished the shrine with its
crowning gift, the tall steeple that gathers to itself not only the
affection of all those who dwell beneath its shadow, but also their
glory and their pride. Some believe it was built by King David of
Scotland: others by one Robert de Rede, since his name may still be
seen carven upon the stone by him who has skill to look. But in truth
the architect hath carried both his name and his secret with him, and
the craftsmen of many another larger and more famous city have sought
in vain to build such another tower. By London Bridge and again at
Edinburgh, in the capitals of two fair kingdoms, may indeed be seen a
steeple built in like fashion, but far less fair. One man alone, he
whose very name hath been forgotten, hath known how to swing with
perfect grace a pinnacled Crown, formed of stone yet delicate as
lacework, aloft in highest air. Therefore to this day doth the Lantern
Tower of St. Nicholas remain without a peer