manners that had won for him
so many friends, now that they were sanctified, were doubly winning.
It was impossible to resist him, and stones were brought him in
quantities. Load after load, interminable loads he bore on his back
like a labourer to St. Damian. Up the steep little path he toiled
between the grey-green olives, on and into the tangle of cypress and
pine, and there stone by stone with his own hands he repaired the
crumbling walls. It was a long wearisome toilsome work, and told
considerably on his health.

"He is _quite_ mad," reiterated some as the days passed from spring to
summer, and from summer to autumn and from autumn into winter again.
But there were others who watched him with tears in their eyes. _They_
knew he was not mad. They realized that a great power had changed the
once refined man into a servant of all--even the constraining power of
the love of Christ, and they shed tears when they thought how far they
came short.

The priest of St. Damian's was deeply touched at Francis'
self-sacrificing work, and often grieved when he saw him doing what he
was physically so unfitted for. He conceived a violent admiration for
his young lodger, and in spite of his poverty he always contrived to
have some dainty dish, or tit-bit for him when he returned to meals.
Now Francis always had been particular as to his food, he liked it
well served, and he was also very fond of all kinds of sweets and
confectionery. For a time he thanked his friend and ate gratefully the
pleasant dishes he had provided. One day as he sat at dinner the
thought came to him "what should I do if I had nobody to provide my
meals." Then he saw for the first time that he was still under bondage
to his appetite. He enjoyed nice food, it seemed necessary to him--but
was it like that Life he so earnestly strove to copy. Francis sat
condemned. The next moment he jumped up and seizing a wooden bowl he
went round the streets from door to door begging for scraps of broken
meat and bread. The people stared harder than ever, but in a little
time his bowl was quite full, and he returned home and sat down to eat
his rations.

[Sidenote: _A Beggar._]

He tried hard, but he turned against them with loathing. In all his
life he thought he had never seen such a horrid collection! Then,
lifting his heart to God, he made another trial and tasted the food.
Lo and behold it was not bad, and as he continued his coarse meal he
thought that no dish had