founded on great piles driven into the bog, arose the lofty wooden
Abbey of Crowland; in its sanctuary of the four rivers, its dykes,
parks, vineyards, orchards, rich ploughlands, from which, in time of
famine, the monks of Crowland fed all people of the neighbouring
fens; with its tower with seven bells, which had not their like in
England; its twelve altars rich with the gifts of Danish Vikings and
princes, and even with twelve white bear-skins, the gift of Canute's
self; while all around were the cottages of the corrodiers, or folk
who, for a corrody, or life pittance from the abbey, had given away
their lands, to the wrong and detriment of their heirs.

But within these four rivers, at least, was neither tyranny nor
slavery. Those who took refuge in St. Guthlac's peace from cruel
lords must keep his peace toward each other, and earn their living
like honest men, safe while they did so; for between those four
rivers St. Guthlac and his abbot were the only lords, and neither
summoner, nor sheriff of the king, nor armed force of knight or earl,
could enter 'the inheritance of the Lord, the soil of St. Mary and
St. Bartholomew, the most holy sanctuary of St. Guthlac and his
monks; the minster free from worldly servitude; the special almshouse
of most illustrious kings; the sole refuge of anyone in worldly
tribulation; the perpetual abode of the saints; the possession of
religious men, specially set apart by the common council of the
realm; by reason of the frequent miracles of the holy confessor St.
Guthlac, an ever-fruitful mother of camphire in the vineyards of
Engedi; and by reason of the privileges granted by the kings, a city
of grace and safety to all who repent.'

Does not all this sound--as I said just now--like a voice from
another planet? It is all gone; and it was good and right that it