again shrieked; and St. Edmund, a reverend heavenly figure, did
come,--and indeed poor little Samson's mother, awakened by his
shrieking, did come; and the Devil and the Dream both fled away
fruitless. On the morrow, his mother, pondering such an awful
dream, thought it were good to take him over to St. Edmund's own
Shrine, and pray with him there. See, said little Samson at
sight of the Abbey-Gate; see, mother, this is the building I
dreamed of! His poor mother dedicated him to St. Edmund,--left
him there with prayers and tears: what better could she do? The
exposition of the dream, Brother Samson used to say, was this:
_Diabolus_ with outspread bat-wings shadowed forth the pleasures
of this world, _voluptates hujus saeculi,_ which were about to
snatch and fly away with me, had not St. Edmund flung his arms
round me, that is to say, made me a monk of his. A monk,
accordingly, Brother Samson is; and here to this day where his
mother left him. A learned man, of devout grave nature; has
studied at Paris, has taught in the Town Schools here, and done
much else; can preach in three languages, and, like Dr. Caius,
'has had losses' in his time. A thoughtful, firm-standing man;
much loved by some, not loved by all; his clear eyes flashing
into you, in an almost inconvenient way!

Abbot Hugo, as we said, has his own difficulties with him; Abbot
Hugo had him in prison once, to teach him what authority was, and
how to dread the fire in future. For Brother Samson, in the time
of the Antipopes, had been sent to Rome on business; and,
returning successful, was too late,--the business had all misgone
in the interim! As tours to Rome are still frequent with us
English, perhaps the reader will not grudge to look at the method
of traveling thither in those remote ages. We happily have, in