he was going up in the boat of a great see-saw, with a foaming tankard in his hand, his jolly red face illumined with glee, and his ample throat thundering forth—
"In dulce jubilo-o-o,
Up, up, up we go-o-o;"
when his sweet jubilee was cut short by the sight of two monks from his Priory, with grim faces, making their way towards the see-saw.
Brother Jucundus tried to scramble out, and in so doing tumbled down. He was picked up. Either his libations, or the fall, or disinclination to return to St. Leonard's weakened his legs, and he tottered so much that the reverend fathers were obliged to put him in a wheelbarrow and roll him to the Priory gate. At the entrance stood the Prior with a brow of thunder.
Brother Jucundus looked pleasantly up in his face from out of his conveyance, smiled benignantly, and piped—
"In dulce jubilo-o-o,
Up, up, up we go-o-o."
The chapter was still sitting, stern and threatening.
The helpless monk was trundled in his barrow into the midst of the assembled fathers, to be tried and sentenced.
He had been caught, flagrante delicto, in a see-saw, drunk, riotous, and incapable. Nevertheless, Brother Jucundus was not disposed to view his case unfavourably. He looked round on the chapter with an affectionate glance from out of his watery eye, and the kindest, most winsome smile on his ruddy cheeks.
He was asked at once for his defence. He murmured, with a hiccup—
"In dulce jubilo-o-o."
