ew of
Matteo; the Assumption, carved in wood by that master behind the pulpit;
the lovely reliefs of Madonna and Child with Saints, by Jacopo della
Quercia, in the Cappella del Sacramento; or the great stone which, as it
is said, S. Frediano, that Irishman, lifted into a cart.

But it is not of S. Frediano we think in this dark and splendid place,
though the stone of his miracle lies before us, but of little S. Zita,
patron of housemaids, little S. Zita of Lucca, born in 1211. "Anziani di
Santa Zita," the devil calls the elders of Lucca in the eighth circle of
Hell; but in her day, indeed, she had no such fame as that. She was
born at Montesegradi, a village of the Lucchese, and was put to service
at twelve years of age, in the family of the Fantinelli, whose house was
close to this church, where now she has a chapel to herself at the west
end of the south aisle, with a fine Annunciation of the della Robbia. To
think of it!--but in those days it was different; it would puzzle Our
Lord to find a S. Zita among our housemaids of to-day. For hear and
consider well the virtues of this pearl above price, whose daughters,
alas! are so sadly to seek while she dusts the Apostles' chairs in
heaven. She was persuaded that labour was according to the will of God,
nor did she ever harbour any complaint under contradictions, poverty,
hardships; still less did she ever entertain the least idle, inordinate,
or worldly desire! She blessed God for placing her in a station where
she was ever busy, and where she must perpetually submit her will to
that of others. "She was even very sensible of the advantages of her
state, which afforded all necessaries of life without engaging her in
anxious cares, ... she obeyed her master and mistress in all things, ...
she rose always hours before the rest of the family, ... she took care
to hear Mass every morning before she was called upon by the duties of
her station, in which she employed the whole day with such diligence and
fidelity that she seemed to be carried to them on wings, and studied to
anticipate them!" Is it any wonder her fellow-servants hated her, called
her modesty simplicity, her want of spirit servility? Ah, we know that
spirit, we know that pride, S. Zita, and for those wings that bore you,
for that thoughtfulness and care, S. Zita, we should be willing to pay
you quite an inordinate wage! Nor would your mistress to-day be
prepossessed against you as yours was, neither would your ma