So then the bells of St. Edmundsbury clang out one and all, and
in church and chapel the organs go: Convent and Town, and all
the west side of Suffolk, are in gala; knights, viscounts,
weavers, spinners, the entire population, male and female, young
and old, the very sockmen with their chubby infants,--out to have
a holiday, and see the Lord Abbot arrive! And there is
'stripping barefoot' of the Lord Abbot at the Gate, and solemn
leading of him in to the High Altar and Shrine; with sudden
'silence of all the bells and organs,' as we kneel in deep prayer
there; and again with outburst of all the bells and organs, and
loud _Te Deum_ from the general human windpipe; and speeches by
the leading viscount, and giving of the kiss of brotherhood; the
whole wound up with popular games, and dinner within doors of
more than a thousand strong, _plus quam mille comedentibus in
gaudio magno._

In such manner is the selfsame Samson once again returning
to us, welcomed on _this_ occasion. He that went away with his
frock-skirts looped over his arm, comes back riding high;
suddenly made one of the dignitaries of this world. Reflective
readers will admit that here was a trial for a man. Yesterday a
poor mendicant, allowed to possess not above two shillings of
money, and without authority to bid a dog run for him, this man
today finds himself a _Dominus Abbas,_ mitred Peer of Parliament,
Lord of manorhouses, farms, manors, and wide lands; a man with
'Fifty Knights under him,' and dependent swiftly obedient
multitudes of men. It is a change greater than Napoleon's; so
sudden withal. As if one of the Chandos daydrudges had, on
awakening some morning, found that he overnight was become Duke!