Consider the dangers of the situation for a young man. On the other side of the wall which formed the eastern boundary of the Abbey was the Palace, the court and camp of the King, a place filled with noisy, racketing, even uproarious life. There were taverns without the Palace precincts where the noise of singing never ceased. There was the clashing of weapons; there were the profane oaths of the soldiers; there was the blare of trumpets; there were the pipe and tabor of the minstrels and the jesters; the monks in their cloister, which should have been so quiet, could never escape the clamor of the barrack. The world, in fact, was always with these good monks--they could not escape it; invisible, but audible, the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil were continually presented to them through the medium of ears unwilling, yet constrained, to hear. Only a low wall between a world of action and the world of prayer; between a world rushing headlong down the flowery path, gathering roses with both hands, committing sins all day long, heedless of repentance, and a world of Rule, where even the holy brethren had to step heedfully along the narrow walk prescribed by the wisdom or the inspiration of St. Benedict. In the cloisters the Brother Ambrosius sat before his books, eyes down-dropped. What did he read on the illuminated page? I know not; what he heard--and it filled his heart with yearnings indescribable--was the sound of pipe and tabor, the merry squeak of crowd, and the jangled bells of tambourine; was the lusty song trolled out by soldier; and--ah, Heaven! [Illustration: CHAPEL OF THE PYX.] why is everything that the natural man longs for sinful?--the singing, like the voice of a bird for silver sweetness--it sank into the soul, and blurred the page of the Psalter, and made him giddy--the singing to the tinkling of the mandolin--the singing of girls. All that life, that worldly life, the life of those who feasted and drank, sang, made love, and died on the battlefield, going headlong--there was no doubt whither--might be heard all day long in the cloister of the Abbey. Did no young man ever leap to his feet, tear off hood, gown, and robe, and rush out of the Abbey gate (that which led into King Street), and so into the outer life, there to wallow in the transitory joys of this sinful world?