and grind their corn (_bladum suum_) at their own good
pleasure; nor can I hinder them, since they are free men. I
will allow no new mills on such principle. Away, away; before
thou gettest home again, thou wilt see what thy mill has grown
to!"--The very reverend, the old Dean totters home again, in all
haste; tears the mill in pieces by his own _carpentarii_, to
save at least the timber; and Abbot Samson's workmen, coming up,
find the ground already clear of it.

Easy to bully down poor old rural Deans, and blow their windmills
away: but who is the man that dare abide King Richard's anger;
cross the Lion in his path, and take him by the whiskers! Abbot
Samson too; he is that man, with justice on his side. The case
was this. Adam de Cokefield, one of the chief feudatories of St.
Edmund, and a principal man in the Eastern Counties, died,
leaving large possessions, and for heiress a daughter of three
months; who by clear law, as all men know, became thus Abbot
Samson's ward; whom accordingly he proceeded to dispose of to
such person as seemed fittest. But now King Richard has another
person in view, to whom the little ward and her great possessions
were a suitable thing. He, by letter, requests that Abbot Samson
will have the goodness to give her to this person. Abbot Samson,
with deep humility, replies that she is already given. New
letters from Richard, of severer tenor; answered with new deep
humilities, with gifts and entreaties, with no promise of
obedience. King Richard's ire is kindled; messengers arrive at
St. Edmundsbury, with emphatic message to obey or tremble! Abbot
Samson, wisely silent as to the King's threats, makes answer:
"The King can send if he will, and seize the ward: force and
power he has to do his pleasure, and abolish the whole Abbey. I
never can be bent to wish this that he seeks, nor shall it by me
be ever done. For there is danger lest such things be made a
precedent of, to the prejudice of my successors. _Videat
Altissimus,_ Let the Most High look on it. Whatsoever thing
shall befall I will patiently endure."

Such was Abbot Samson's deliberate decision. Why not? Coeur-de-
Lion is very dreadful, but not the dreadfulest. _Videat
Altissimus._ I reverence Coeur-de-Lion to the marrow of my bones,
and will in all right things be _homo suus;_ but it is not,
properly speaking, with terror, with any fear at all. On the
whole, have I not looked on the face of 'Sata