“Affect the fat soils of our marsh land, and there, maybe, find convenient prey amongst the idle and inebriate brethren who forget their vows, or the sottish loony who from the plough tail seek the ale house. And moreover there be your fiends, long and slim, and comely in garb, with tails of graceful curve, and horns like a comely heifer. Natheless their teeth be sharp and their claws fierce. But they hide them, for they would fain appear like angels of light, yet be they the demons of pride and cruelty, first-born of Lucifer, son of the morning . . .” Here the sweets and pastries came in, fruits of the abbey gardens, skilfully preserved, and cunning devices of the baker: there was a church built of pie crust; a monk, baked brown and crisp, with raisins for his eyes, which, withal, filled his paunch, and, cannibal like, the good brethren ate him. Finally, that they, the brethren, might not be without a _memento mori_, was a sepulchre or altar tomb, likewise in crust, and when the top was broken, a goodly number of pigeons lurked beneath, lying in state: “Which mop and mow, and chatter like starlings, but all, either naught in sense or naughty in meaning, oh these chattering goblins. Be not like them, my brethren—_libera nos Domine_.” Here to those who sat at the upper board were next presented, by the serving brethren, dainty cups of hippocras, medicated against the damps and chills of the low grounds, or perchance the crudities of the stomach, or the cruel pinches of _podagra dolorosa_— “Ah! will you say that agues, rheumatics, and all the other afflictions which do befall the brethren be simply bred of stagnant water and foul drinking? Nay, I say these hobgoblins give us them, and that even as Satan was permitted to afflict holy Job, so they afflict you. But we have not the patience of Job; would we had! Oh my brethren, slay me the little foxes which eat the tender grapes; your pride, anger, envy, hatred, gluttony, lust, and sloth, and bring forth worthy fruits of penance; then may you all laugh at Satan and his misshapen offspring until in very shame they fly these fens—_libera nos Domine_.” Here the leader sang: “_Tu autem Domine, miserere nobis_.” And the whole brotherhood replied: “_Deo gratias_.” The supper was ended, and the chapel bell began to ring for the final service of the day. The period of silence throughout the dormitories and passages now began, and only stealthy footfalls broke the stillness of the summer night. But the prior rang a silver bell: “tinkle, tinkle.” “Send me the elder of the two brethren of Saint Francis, him with the twinkling black eyes and roundish face.” And Martin was brought to him.