brothers and sisters.

* * * * *

Now after a life spent like Christ's in works of poverty, charity, and
love, Saint Francis came at last to have one spot in the world which he
could call his own. It was neither a church nor a convent, a cottage nor
even a cell. It was only a bare and lonely mountain top where wild
beasts lived and wild birds had a home. This retreat in the wilderness
was the gift which Orlando, a rich nobleman, chose to make Saint
Francis. And it was a precious gift indeed, sorely needed by the Lord's
weary beggar. For he was worn with wandering; he was ill and weak, and
his gentle eyes were growing dim so that he could not go along the
winding ways. But he was happy still.

[Illustration: SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI]

So one warm September day he went with some of his chosen brethren to
take possession of their new home. They left the villages, the farms,
and at last even the scattered shepherds' huts far below and behind
them, and came into the quiet of the Italian hills. They climbed and
climbed over the rocks and along the ravines, till they came in sight of
the bald summit where Francis was to dwell. And here in happy weariness
he paused to rest under an oak-tree and look about upon the beautiful
scene.

But suddenly the air was filled with music, a chorus of trills and
quavers and carols of the wildest joy. Then the air grew dark with
whirring wings. The birds of the mountain were coming from everywhere to
welcome home their brother. They flew to him by hundreds, perching on
his head and shoulders; and when every other spot was covered they
twittered into the hood of his brown mantle. The brothers stood about,
wondering greatly, although they had seen Saint Francis in some such
plight before. But the peasant who led the ass which had brought Saint
Francis so far stood like one turned to stone, unable to believe his
eyes. Here was a miracle the like of which he had never dreamed.

But Saint Francis was filled with gladness. "Dearest brethren," he said,
"I think it must be pleasant to our Lord that we should dwell in this
solitary place, since our brothers and sisters the birds are so glad of
our coming."

And indeed, how could they help being glad of his coming, the dear, kind
Saint? And how they hovered around the shelter of branches which the
brethren built for him under a beech-tree on the very mountain top! One
can picture them at morning, noon, and night jo