Section Zero of Brother Francis, or less than the least. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Tom Hirsch. Brother Francis by Eileen Douglas. Preface. The following pages have been written by my request, with a view to making the soldiers of the Salvation Army somewhat familiar with the life story of one of the most remarkable men this world has ever seen. While many and varied will be the opinions respecting the methods employed by Francis of Assisi, and while some will doubtless strongly dissent from these methods. Yet I think no serious follower of Jesus Christ can do otherwise than admire the sincerity, devotion, and sacrifice of the man. And further, there can be, I think, no two opinions as to his having taught and manifested to the world what it means to be possessed entirely by the Savior's Spirit. And what did that Spirit produce? Actually it was the same entire devotion of our all to the service of God and humanity which we Salvationists daily teach. The difference between our Spirit and that of the subject of this memoir is, I trust, very slight, although the manifestations of it are widely diverse. We are quite as extreme in our demands as to poverty and solitude as he was, only that we do not value these things for their own sake as he did. We daily induce persons to leave earthly possessions and prospects in order to go and seek the salvation of the poor amongst whom their future life is to be spent. And we require our officers to consecrate all they have to the service of the kingdom of God right through their career, and to live always in the state of readiness to be sent away from all they have known and loved, not indeed to live in any cloister or hermitage, but in the solitude amidst the crowd which must ever be more or less the lot of the highest leaders of men. The system established by Francis was not adaptable to family life, whereas it is our joy to show how as completed devotion to the good of others can be manifested by the father or mother who spend most of their hours in toil for the support of those depended upon them, as by the monks and nuns of old, even when they walked in entire harmony with the rules of their various orders. We have demonstrated that most people, by the very fact of their being engaged in business and having to fulfill the duties of family life, acquire extra power to capture for God those who are still in the ranks of worldliness and selfishness. Nevertheless, we must always expect God to require from time to time witnesses who might step out of the ordinary path altogether in order to revolutionize the world for him. It were better far to aspire to so high and holy a calling than to excuse in ourselves any less self-denial, any easier life than this man's boundless love to Christ constrained him to adopt. It is most melancholy to reflect that Francis died almost brokenhearted over what he felt to be the unfaithfulness of his brethren. We believe that God has guided us to plans which, being consistent with the possibilities of modern human life, are capable of being carried out fully and always. But the vital question is the maintenance of that intense spirit of personal devotion to the good shepherd and his lost sheep which can alone render any such scheme of life possible. To that great end may this book minister, and God grant us grace and wisdom to raise up generation after generation of soldiers who will not only drink in, but fully carry out that spirit. William Booth, International Headquarters, London. You will not be likely to find Azizie marked on any ordinary map of Italy. It is far too unimportant a place for that, that is to say geographically unimportant.  The houses which are built of a curious kind of rosy tinted stone press so closely together, one above the other on the rocks, so that each house seems trying to look over its neighbor's head. The result of this is that from every window you have one of the grandest views of Europe, above the mountain's tower into the sky, and yet they are not so close as to suggest crowding. With lies stretched out the Umbrian plain, the center and heart of Italy, with its rich harvests, plentiful streams and luxuriant vegetation, it might well be called the Eden of Italy. The atmosphere is clear and transparent, and the nights with their dark blue cloudless skies, studded with myriads of shining sparkling stars, are better imagined than described. It was midway up one of the narrow, steep little streets in one of those rosy tinted houses that Francis Bernadon was born about six hundred years ago. Only he wasn't Francis just then. He was John. As a matter of fact there was no such name as Francis known in Isisi, and some think it was invented there, and then for the first time by Pietro Bernadon. When his baby was born Pietro was far away, traveling in France. He was a merchant, and his business often took him away from home. As there were no letters or telegrams to tell him the news, it was not till he got back that he found he had a baby son who had been duly christened John at the parish church. But Pietro had no idea of letting a little matter of this kind stand in his way, and he told his wife Paica that the baby was not to be John, but Francis, or Francesca. And Francis he was. The neighbors didn't like it at all. Why should Pietro set himself up to be so much better than other folks that he must needs invent a name for his baby? In what was his baby better than any of theirs? And so forth. Oh, Isisi was a very natural little town. From his babyhood these neighbors sat in judgment on little Francis. It was nothing much about him that pleased them. They disapproved of his dress, which was rich and fine, and always according to the latest fashion, of his idle, free, careless ways, of his handsome face, of his super abundance of pocket money.  What is that to you, retorted Paica? Our son does indeed live like a prince. Have patience, the day may come when he will live like the son of God. But in truth that day seemed long and coming, and the neighbors might well be forgiven when they said among themselves that young Frances Bernadon was being utterly spoiled. It was quite true. Like gay, good-natured, easily led, fond of all kinds of beauty and soft living, the life of indulgence and ease and pleasure that he was brought up in was not the one that would best fit him for the battle of life.  It delighted him more than anything else to hear people say that he looked like a prince of royal blood, and he denied him nothing that money could procure. As he grew up into young manhood, Frances nominally assisted his father in his business as cloth merchant. His duties, however, were very light, and he was known more as a leader among the gay youth of Azizi than as a rising businessman. He was always chosen as the leader of the sumptuous feasts that the young men of that era wiled away the evening hours with. After the feast was over, Frances used to lead his band out into the streets, and there, under those glorious starry skies, they finished the night singing the then popular love songs of France and Italy. As Frances was intensely musical, and possessed a very fine voice, he was indispensable at these revelries. He was almost twenty-five before he had his first serious thought, and up to then life had been an enchanted dream. Frances with his handsome face, beautiful, courteous manners, and full pockets the center of it. He had seen life outside the Sisi, for he had fought for his country and suffered imprisonment. He had traveled a little, was fairly well educated, and what was rare in those days spoke and sang in the French language. Of God he seems to have had no knowledge whatever. His kindly, polite nature led him to much almsgiving, but that was merely the outcome of a disposition which hated to see suffering. Frances' lack of religion is not much to be wondered at when we look at the state of the church in his time. Christianity had become old, its first freshness had worn off, and its primitive teaching had fallen into decay. A Christian's life was an easy one, and the service rendered was more of churchgoing and almsgiving than purity of heart and life. In many instances those who filled the office of teacher and preacher were corrupt and lived only for themselves, and the whole tendency of the times was to the most extreme laxity. When almost twenty-five years old Frances had a very severe illness. For weeks he lay at death's door, and for weeks after all danger was passed he was confined to the house too weak to move. As his weary convalescence dragged itself along one absorbing desire filled his mind. If only he could get out of doors and stand once again in the sunshine and feast his eyes on the landscape below him. Frances like all Italians was a passionate lover of his native country, and at last one day he wearily and painfully crawled out. But what was the matter? The sunshine was there, it flooded the country. The breeze that was to bring him new life and vigor played among his chestnut curls. The mountains towered in their noble grandeur. The wide Umbrian plain lay stretched out at his feet. The skies were as blue and the flowers as gay and sweet as ever his fancy painted them. But the young man turned away with a sickening sense of disappointment and failure. Things that perish, he said mournfully to himself, and thought bitterly of his past life with its gaiety and frivolity. It too was among the things that perish. Life was a dreary emptiness. It was the old, old story. Thou hast made us for thyself, O God, and the hardest restless till it finds its rest in thee. That tide which flows at least once in the life of every human being was surging round Francis. Happy they who, leaving all else, cast themselves into the infinite ocean of the divine will and design.  Can the smooth way lead to God? As health returned, Francis determined that he would no longer waste his life. He had spent a quarter of a century in ease and pleasure and amusement. Now, some way or other, there should be a change. According to Francis meant acting up to all the duties of his church. This he had already done, and not for a moment did he dream that there was in what he called religion any balm for a sore and wounded spirit. It never occurred to him to seek in prayer the mind of the Lord concerning his future. Oh, no, it was many a long day before Francis knew the real meaning of the word, prayer. He was convinced of his wrong and determined to write it. That was as far as he had got. What to do was now the great question. Just about this time a nobleman of Assisi, Walter of Brienne, was about to start for Apulia to take part in a war which was going on there. All at once it occurred to Francis that he would go too. He was naturally courageous, and visions filled his mind of the deeds he would do in the honors that would be bestowed upon him. He hastened at once to the nobleman and begged to be allowed to accompany him. Permission was granted, and Francis set about getting his outfit ready. His rich costume was far more splendid than that of Walter himself, and the trappings of his horse and his general accoutrements were all in keeping, so that altogether Francis was a very magnificent personage indeed. A few nights before he started he dreamed a strange dream. He was sleeping, and he thought somebody called him out of his sleep. Francis, Francis, said a voice, then it seemed to Francis that he awoke and found himself in a vast armory. All around him hung shields and spears and swords and weapons of all kinds. But the most curious part of it was that each weapon was marked with a cross. In his heart he wondered what it could all mean, and as he was wondering the voice answered his thoughts, "'These are for thee and for thy followers,' it said, and then Francis awoke. It was an age when dreams were counted of much importance, and Francis rejoiced over this of his. Heaven, he said to himself, had smiled upon his enterprise. God had undertaken to lead him by the hand, and to what heights could he not aspire? Dreams of earthly honor and distinction floated through his brain as he dressed, and when he went downstairs everybody asked what made him look so radiant. I have the certainty of becoming a great prince,' he answered. Yes, truly he was to be a prince among men. Could he have seen, then, the rough row that God was preparing for him? Would he have drawn back? Happily for us we live a day at a time, and further than that our eyes are holding. It's a great deal of pomp and display.  But his journey was a short one. About thirty miles from Assisi he was taken ill with an attack of his lifelong enemy, the fever, and forced to lie by. He chafed a good deal at this and wondered and pondered over the mysterious actions of a providence which had so manifestly sanctioned his expedition. One evening he was lying half unconscious when he thought he heard the same voice that spoke to him before he started. Francis, it asked, what could benefit thee most, the master or the servant, the rich man or the poor? The master and the rich man answered Francis in wonderment. Why, then, went on the voice, dast thou leave God, who is the master and rich, for man, who is the servant and poor? Then, Lord, what wilt thou that I do, queried Francis? Return to thy native town, and it shall be shown thee there what thou shalt do, said the voice. It was characteristic of all Francis' afterlife that he never stopped to query what looked like contradiction on the borders, but as soon as ever he was well enough he traveled back home again. His ambition for future greatness and earthly distinction and honor all seemed to be lost sight of when the divine voice spoke, for Francis was convinced that God had spoken to him. It was certainly not easy for a nature like his to return home whence a few short days before he had departed with such pomp and glory. His father was not overjoyed to welcome him back, but his friends, who worshipped him, the flower of Assisi, as they called him, received him gladly. Francis had been dull without Francis. His merry songs and jests were missed at the evening feast. For a time he took up the life he had quitted, there was nothing else to do as far as he could see, but he was changed. Even his companions were forced to own that. He sang and laughed and gested as usual, but the heart had gone out of his song and laughter, and he was prone to fall into deep fits of meditation.  He cared no longer for what was once his very existence, and he knew not as yet to what God would have him turn. He desired to serve God and gave himself to almsgiving. He made a pilgrimage to Rome only to be disgusted with the miserable offerings put into the treasury by the pilgrims. Is this all they spare to God? He cried, and pulling out his purse flung its contents among the rest. He was tormented and haunted by recollections of his past misspent life, and for days he mourned over what was beyond recall. There was a certain old woman in Assisi, horribly deformed and hideously ugly. Francis, with his innate love of the beautiful, recoiled in horror every time he met her. She was a nightmare to him, and he would go far to avoid seeing her. The devil, who is ever ready to work on the weakness of a human soul, used this old woman to torture him. See, he said, a picture of what you will become if you persist in mortifying yourself and leading a life devoted to God. You will become as ugly and repulsive as that old woman in time. The bare idea was agonizing to Francis. The old woman turned up continually, and seemed to pursue him like a phantom. The temptation may seem to stronger souls an ignoble one, but it was an intense and severe one to Francis. He conquered by yielding himself up to the will of God. He accepted everything—deformity, ugliness, pain—if it were God's plan for him. Then and only then had he rest. As soon as he had given up his warlike ambitions and returned to his easy, he had been in the habit of going off by himself into a cave or grotto, and there being alone with his thoughts. Many a conflict did that cave see, as Francis, with tears and cries, entreated the Lord to show him how best to employ his life. It was during one of these seasons that his spiritual eyes were opened. Due to he had followed blindly an almost unknown God, but he had followed and sought, and the end of his faith was sight. It came upon him all at once. Christ, his love for the sinner, his love for him. Christ bleeding, dying, suffering for very love. Christ the pure, long-suffering, merciful patient. Christ the Son of God made man for us. A wave of great joy swept over Francis, and he wept for very gladness of heart. Here was his master, his Lord. He had found him, and henceforth following was easy. Not one of the many translations of the life of Francis omits to mention his self-imposed mission to the lepers. Assisi, like most foreign towns of the age, was infested with lepers. They were not allowed to live in the towns but had houses, lazaretti, built for them quite outside. Francis had a deep-rooted repugnance to a leper, and, in passing a lazaretti, always carefully covered up his nose lest any bad odor might reach him, and he always rode far away in the opposite direction, if he chanced to see one in the plains. Nothing shows the change in Francis more than his alterations toward the lepers. One day when out riding he saw a leper approaching. His first instinct was his natural one to get away at once, his second that God required something more of him, who was he to loathe and avoid a fellow creature. Writing up to the leper he dismounted, gave him some money, and then without a shudder kissed the dreadful hand held out to him. He had done the impossible, and from this time he constantly visited the lazaretti, putting himself in personal contact with the lepers, giving them money and doing all he could to lessen their sufferings. Of this period of his experience he writes long years after. When I was in sin it was very bitter to me to behold lepers, but the Lord himself having led me amongst them I exercised mercy towards them, and when I left them I felt that what had seemed so bitter to me was changed into sweetness for my soul and body. In three a lonely struggle, this LibriVox recording is in the public domain, recording by Tom Hirsch. Thou must walk on, however man upgrade thee, with him who tried the wine-press all alone. Thou mates not find one human hand to aid thee, one human soul to comprehend thy own. A rough stony uphill path, or rather track, under gray-green olive trees leading to a perfect tangle of cypresses and pines. Here in the tangle of cypresses, almost hidden from sight, lay a dilapidated ancient church, which long ago had been dedicated to the martyr Damien. Up this stony track one day stumbled Francis. His was now a solitary life, he was a complete puzzle to parents and friends, and indeed to a great extent he was a puzzle to himself. His life in his father's house was far from pleasant. Pietro's vanity had received a serious blow from what he regarded as his son's ignominious return to Assisi. He had been more than willing to give him ample means for every pleasure, so that he might mingle on an equal footing with the young nobles of the land. But to see his money given lavishly to the beggars in the street and the lepers in the Lazar houses was more than he could stand. A serious, ever-widening breach had formed between father and son. Pica, poor woman, knew that sooner or later a rupture would come, and much as she loved her strange son she could do nothing to prevent it. There was literally no one who could comprehend Francis, much less render him any spiritual aid. One faithful companion there had been, who used to follow him round into the woods when he went to pray, and stand at the doors of caves and grottoes until his season of meditation was over. But after a time this friend had been obliged to leave him. Francis tried timidly to tell people a little of what God was dimly revealing to him, and his, to them, vague ideas only resulted in mocking smiles and assurances that he was rapidly becoming stark, staring mad. So had things come about that in spite of himself Francis was thrown entirely and solely upon his newfound lord.  This was a direction Francis seldom walked in, but today he had been so occupied with his thoughts that he scarcely knew where he was going. Seeing the church he passed in and knelt to pray. Great and glorious God was his prayer, and thou, Lord Jesus, I pray thee shed abroad thy light in the darkness of my mind, be found of me, Lord, so that in all things I may act only in accordance with thy holy will. As he prayed, little by little, a sense of peace and a new feeling of acceptance took possession of him. He had known before that God had pardoned him for the past and was keeping him in the midst of trials and hourly temptations, but this was something quite different. Jesus accepted him, individually, his body as well as his soul, his time, talents, all his being, and desired his labor and assistance. The poor, lonely, crushed heart was filled to overflowing. He was conscious of a distinct union with Christ. From this time forth he was to know what it meant to be crucified with Christ, to die daily. As he knelt there among the ruins and decay it seemed to him that a voice spoke to his soul thus. Francis, dost thou see how my house is falling into ruins? Go and set thyself to repair it. Most willingly, Lord, he answered, hardly knowing what he said. Now, respecting the incidents we are about to relate, there are many and various theories. Some say the revelation made to Francis referred to the spiritual work to which he had not as yet received his call. Others there are who blame him and call him rash and hot-headed and accuse him of running before he was sent. We are not prepared to give judgment one way or the other. God has not promised us that we shall never make mistakes, and if Francis made a mistake God certainly overruled it and made it work to his glory as he promised all things to work for those who love him. Again God has his own ways of working, mysterious and curious though they often seem to us, and what looks like the foolishness of men often redounds to his greatest praise. But to return to what really happened. Francis rose from his knees and sought the priest who had charge of Saint Damien's. He pressed all the money he had about him into his hands, begged him to buy oil and keep the lamp always burning, then rushed off home. Saddling his horse, he loaded it with the most costly stuffs he could find and rode off into a neighboring town where they found a ready market and realized a goodly sum. When his stuff was all sold he disposed of his horse too, and returning on foot to Saint Damien's he placed a well-filled purse in the priest's hands, told him with much satisfaction what he had done, and begged him to have the church restored at once. To his utter consternation the priest refused, saying he dare not take so large a sum unless Pietro Bernadon approved. Poor Francis was in despair. He flung the money on a window-seat in disgust and begged the priest at least to give him a shelter for a few days. That much bewildered man, hardly knowing what to say or do, consented, and Francis took up his abode with him. But not for long. Pietro, when he found his son did not return home as usual, made inquiries and found where he was located. He was very anxious and uneasy, as he was sure now that his son was afflicted by a religious mania he would have to renounce all the high hopes he had formed for him. However, he resolved to make a determined effort to recover him and set out with a large party of friends to storm St. Amiens. They hoped that Francis would listen to reason and consent to follow them back quietly to Assisi, but Francis never waited to receive them. An uncontrollable fear took possession of him and he fled and hid himself in a cavern he alone knew of. His father's party ransacked the priests' abode and all the country round, but they had to return home, baffled. For a month Francis remained shut up in the cavern. An old servant who loved him dearly was let into the secret and used to bring him food. During this month he suffered intensely. It was the first time in his life he had ever suffered contradiction.  To be sure people did not understand him, but they had never shown him any animosity. A sense of utter failure oppressed him. It was a hard trial to one of his temperament, and if his consecration had not been very real he would never have stood the test. He wept and prayed and confessed his utter nothingness, his weakness, his inability to accomplish anything of himself. Never in his life had he felt weak and incapable before. Then humbly he entreated that God would enable him to accomplish his will and not permit his incapacity to frustrate God's designs for him. A consciousness of divine strength was manifested to him as never before. It was as if a voice said, I will be with thee, fear not. Strengthened with the strength he never knew heretofore, he came out of the cavern and made straight for his father's house. That day as Pietro Bernadon sat at work indoors the voice of a mighty tomo was born into him. Such a clamour and yelling and shouting he had never heard in a sissy in all his time. Rushing upstairs he looked out of the window. It seemed as though the entire populace had turned loose and were buffeting someone in their midst. A madman, a madman, yelled the crowd, and sticks and stones and mud flew from all sides. A madman, a madman, echoed the children. Determined not to lose the fun Pietro hastened out into the street, joined the crowd and discovered that his son Francis was the madman in question. With a whole rage he rushed upon him, dragged him into the house with oaths and blows and locked him up in a sort of dungeon. During the succeeding days he and his wife did all they could to persuade Francis to return to his old mode of life. Pietro entreated and threatened. Pica wept and caressed, but all in vain. I have received a command from God was their answer, and I mean to carry it out. At last, after some time Pietro, being absent for several days on business, Pica unlocked the dungeon and let her son go free. When Pietro returned he cursed his wife and set off to St. Damien's to fetch Francis back, but Francis declined to go. He said that he feared neither blows nor chains, but God had given him a work to do, and nothing, nor nobody would prevent him carrying out that mission. Pietro was struck by his son's coolness, and seeing that force would be of no use he went to the magistrates and lodged a complaint against his son, desiring the magistrates to recover the money that his son had given to the church and to oblige him to renounce in legal form all rights of inheritance. The magistrates seemed to have been much shocked at Pietro's harshness, but they summoned Francis who would not appear. When asked to use violence, they said, No, your son has entered God's service. We have nothing to do with his actions, and utterly refuse to have anything further to do with the case. CHAPTER XIV For poverty and self-reunciation, the Father yieldeth back a thousandfold. In the calm stillness of regeneration, comeeth a joy we never knew of old. Pietro was not avaricious. He cared nothing for the money as money. His plan now was to cut off all supplies, and when his son, who had always been accustomed to the daintiest and softest of living, and was in no way inured to hardship, found that he was now literally a beggar, he would, after a little privation, come to his senses and sue his father for pardon. This was his idea when he sought the bishop and made his complaint to him. The bishop called Francis to appear before him. On the appointed day he appeared with his father. The venerable bishop, who was a man of great good sense and wisdom, heard all there was to hear, and then turning to the young man, he said, My son, thy father is greatly incensed against thee. If thou desirous to consecrate thyself to God, restore to him all that is his. He went on to say that the money was not really Francis, and therefore he had no right to give away what was not his. Since God would never accept money that was an occasion of sin between father and son. Then Francis rose and said, My Lord, I will give back everything to my father, even the clothes I have had from him. Returning into a neighboring room, he stripped off all his rich garments, and clad only in a hair undergarment laid them and the purse of money at his father's feet. Now he cried, I have but one father, henceforth I can say in all truth, our father who art in heaven. There was a moment of dead silence. Everybody present was too astonished to speak. Then Pietro gathered up the garments in money and withdrew. A murmur of pity swept through the crowd as they looked at the young man standing half naked before the tribunal, but no sentiments of pity stirred Pietro. Easy and good-natured when things went according to his liking, he was equally hard and unbending if his will was crossed. It was to him a rude awakening out of a glorious golden dream, and from his standpoint life looked hard. Then Pietro departed the old bishop through his own mantle round the young man's shoulders and sent out for some suitable garment. Nothing however was forthcoming except a peasant's cloak belonging to one of the gardeners. This Francis gladly put on and passed out of the bishop's hall, a homeless wanderer on the face of the earth. He was not inclined to return to St. Damien's at once. He desired solitude, so he plunged into the woods. As he traveled he sang with all his might praises to God in the French tongue. His singing attracted the notice of some robbers who were hidden in the fastness of the woods. They sprang out and seized him, demanding, �Who are you?� Francis always courteous replied, �I am the herald of the great king, but what does that concern you?� The robbers laughed at him for a madman, and after they had made game of him for a time they tore his garment from his back and tossing him into a deep ditch where a quantity of snow still lie, they made off, crying, �Lie there, you poor herald of the good God!� When they had disappeared Francis scrambled out stiff with cold and clad only in his one garment and went on his way singing as before. Happily his wandering speedily brought him to a monastery among the mountains. He knocked at the door and begged for help. The monks regarded this strange half-naked applicant with much suspicion, and one can hardly blame them. Nevertheless they received him and gave him employment in their kitchen as assistant to the cook, to do the rough and heavy work. His food was of the commonest and coarsest, and it never seemed to occur to any of them that he would be the better for a few more clothes. When his solitary garment appeared in imminent danger of dropping to pieces, he left the monastery and went on a little further to a neighboring town where a friend of his lived. He made his way to this friend and asked him, out of charity, to provide him with a worn garment to cover his nakedness. The case was manifestly an urgent one, and the friend bestowed upon him a suit of clothes consisting of a tunic, leather belt, shoes, and a stick. It was very much the kind of costume then worn by the hermits. From here he started back again to St. Amiens. He stopped on his way to visit a leather house and help in the care of the lepers. He had quite gotten over all his early antipathies, and it was a joy to him now to minister to those poor-diseased ones. Probably he would have spent much longer season here if it were not that again he seemed to hear the same voice calling him to repair the ruined church. So he left the laser-house and proceeded on his way. He told his friend the priest that he was in no way disappointed or cast down, and that he had good reason to believe that he would be able to accomplish his purpose. There was only one way in which he could attain this end. Money he had none.  Next day saw him at work. Up and down the streets of his native town he went begging for stones to rebuild St. Amiens. He who gives me one stone shall receive one blessing. He who gives me two will have two blessings. And he who gives me three, three blessings. The people were unable to do anything at first from pure astonishment.  They could hardly believe their eyes. Truly the fellow was mad, they said to each other. But he did not look mad. His smile was as sweet as ever, and the native polished courtly 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, in terminable loads he bore on his back like a laborer to St. Damien. Up the steep little path he toiled between the gray green olives, on and into the tankle of cypress and pine. And there, stone by stone with his own hands, he repaired the crumbling walls. It was a long, weary, some 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. Damien's was deeply touched at France's self-sacrificing work, and often grieved when he saw him doing what he was physically so unfitted for. He conceived of violent admiration for his young lodger, and in spite of his poverty he always contrived to have some dainty dish or tidbit for him when he returned to meals. Now France's 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? France's 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. He tried hard, but he turned against them with loathing.  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 course meal he thought that no dish had ever tasted better. Praising God for victory he went to the priest and told him that he would be no further expense to him. From henceforth he would beg his meals. When Pietro heard that his son had added to his eccentricities by begging for his food his anger knew no bounds. When he met him in the streets he blushed with shame and often cursed him. But if his family were ashamed of him there were many among the townsfolk with whom he found sympathy. Help came in on all sides, and at last the walls were repaired and the church was no longer in danger of tumbling into a mass of ruins. What was needed for the inside was got in the same way as the stones, and pretty soon a congregation was forthcoming. One of the hardest sacrifices God required from Francis connected with this work was one evening when he was out begging from house to house for oil to light the church. He came to a house where an entertainment was going on, a feast very similar to those he had so often presided over in his worldly days. He looked down at his poor common dress and thought with shame what a figure he would cut among the gay, well-dressed crowd within. For a moment he felt tempted to skip this house, but it was only for a moment. Reapproaching himself bitterly he pushed in and standing before in the festive gathering told them simply how much he had objected to coming in and for what reason, adding that he feared his timidity was counted to him as sin because he was working in God's name and in his service. His request was taken in good part, and his words so touched all present that they were eager to give him the aid he sought. After St. Damien's was quite restored Francis set to work and did the same for two other equally needy churches in the vicinity. One was St. Peter's, and the other St. Mary's or the Portian Culla. The second one became eventually the cradle of the Franciscan movement. Here he built for himself a cell where he used to come to pour out his soul in prayer. When his work of repairing came to an end he gave himself up to meditation, his whole idea being that he would henceforth lead the life of a recluse. But God disposed. RECORDING by TOM HERSH O my Lord the crucified, who for love of me has died, mold me by thy living breath to the likeness of thy death, while the thorns thy brows entwine, let no flower wreath rest on mine. But Francis kept a listening ear. God's word was his law, and though he to a certain extent planned what he would do next, yet he left himself entirely free in his Lord's hands and at his disposal. Had he not remained in this attitude of soul, or had he become wise in his own conceits, or failed to keep his heart and soul fresh with the first vital freshness of regeneration, what would have become of the great Franciscan movement that was destined ultimately to stir the world? God alone knows. He keeps count of lost opportunities, calls neglected. All stirrings lulled to barren fruitless slumber. The natural tendency of a soul which has been awakened to great action and accomplished daring feats is the first strain passed to relax or settle down. It is only the minority that struggle and fight and get the victory over this subtle temptation. The same principle applies in a larger scale, and that is why it is so many glorious religious movements have run a course and then dwindled into mediocrity, the later disciples carving for themselves a medium way. Francis' life-work might easily have dwindled into nothing just here. He had not the least intimation that the Lord demanded anything more of him but that he should love and serve him all the days of his life in an ordinary, unobtrusive manner. Two years had been spent in repairing the churches, and Francis was now between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years of age. It was on the twenty-fourth of February in the year 1209 that he received his call to direct spiritual work. That morning he went to church as usual, and the words of the Gospel for the day came to him direct from Jesus Christ himself. Whereever ye go, preach, saying, The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand, heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils, freely ye have received, freely give. Cried neither silver nor gold nor brass in your purses, neither script nor two coats nor shoes nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his hire. These words were a revelation. This is what I want, cried Francis, as he left the church, conscious for the first time that he had wanted something. This is what I have long been seeking. From this day forth I shall set myself with all my strength to put it in practice. Immediately he took up his new commission. He threw away his shoes, his stick, his purse, and put on the coarse dress of the peasant of the Epinines, and girded it with a rough piece of rope, the first thing he could find. As equipped, he set out a true night of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for the first time in his life began to talk to the people he met about their souls. That eloquent fiery tongue that was destined to make him one of the orders of the age had not yet become unloosed, and Francis was simplicity itself. Indeed he did not at first attempt to make anything like a speech or sermon. His efforts were directed toward people whom he was acquainted with. In these he urged to repent in the name of the Lord. He told his own experience, and spoke of the shortness of life, of punishment after death, of the need of heart and life-holiness. His halting words struck home.  For over two years now Francis had lived a solitary, and humanly speaking, a lonely life. He had, however, during that time, proved the sufficiency of God. He do not read that he ever longed for a human friend, one that could understand and sympathize with him, so richly had God supplied his every need. But the time had come when his solitude was to end. God was about to raise him up friends. Again he was to take up his old position as a leader of men, only a sanctified one. Bernardero di Quentavella was a man of birth and position. He was a few years older than Francis, and as he lived in Assisi he had full opportunity of watching all Francis vagaries, for so his actions looked to him at first. However, as time passed, and Francis' supposed mania failed to develop into anything very dangerous, Bernardero puzzled and wondered, what was it, he asked himself, that had so completely changed the gay, frivolous, ease-loving Francis Bernadon into a poor, hardworking beggar. Was he really as good and holy as the common people began to whisper to themselves? We must bear in mind that vital religion in Assisi was at its lowest ebb, and the kind that worked itself out in daily life in action, almost unknown. Pretty soon Bernadero determined to study Francis close to, again and again he invited him to his house, and the more he saw of the gracious, humble, God-fearing Francis, the more he liked him.  They retired. In a short time Bernadero was, to all appearances, extremely sound asleep. Then Francis rose from his bed, and kneeling down began to pray. A deep sense of divine presence overflowed him, and he could do nothing but weep and cry. Oh my God, oh my God! He continued all night praying and weeping before the Lord. Now Bernadero, who was only pretending to be asleep in order to see what Francis would do, was greatly touched. Bernadero visited him too that night, and spoke to his soul so loudly and clearly that he dare not do ought but follow the light that that night began to glimmer on his future path. Little he thought into what a large place it would ultimately lead him. Next morning, true to his newborn inspiration, he said to Francis, I am disposed in my heart to leave the world and obey thee in all that thou shalt command me. To say that Francis was surprised is to say too little. He was astonished. So astonished that it was difficult to find words in which to answer. That the people he influenced would rise up in desire to share his life with its privations and eccentricities had never as yet occurred to him. His soul and only aim had been that his every individual act and thought should be in conformity to that of our Lord Jesus Christ. But I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto me, and Francis, by his humble life and work, had brought that blessed life wherever he went. This is the divine design for every faithful soul that seeks to truly follow its master. The man who could live and spread holiness as an ordinary day laborer and stone mason was now to receive a greater charge. As soon as he recovered from the first surprise of Bernardo's statement he said, Bernardo a resolution such as the one thou speakest of is so difficult and so great an action that we must take counsel of the Lord Jesus and pray him that he may point out his will and teach us to follow it. So they set off together for the church. While on their way there that morning they were joined by another brother called Pietro who said that he too had been told of God to join Francis. So the three went together to read the Gospels and pray for light. Francis was soon convinced that Bernardo and Pietro were led of God and joyfully welcomed them as his fellow laborers. They took up their abode in a deserted mud hut close by a river known as the Riva Torto, and that mean little hut was the cradle which contained the beginning of a work that spread itself into every quarter of the globe. Francis, said Bernardo a little later, what wouldst thou do supposing a great king had given thee possessions for which thou afterwards had snow use? Why give them back to be sure? answered Francis. Then said Bernardo, I will that I sell all my possessions and give the money to the poor. So he did. Land, houses, all that he possessed he sold and distributed the proceeds to the poor in the marketplace. One can easily imagine the sensation this caused in Assisi and how almost the entire population thronged to the spot. The news of this day's doing spread into all the countryside. In a town not far from Assisi, a certain young man called Igilio listened intently while his father and mother discussed Bernardo and Francis and went into their history past and present and speculated on their future. Until they thought as they talked that their cultured, refined son was drinking in every word and that his soul was being strangely stirred. Before the week was out Igilio had received the divine touch that fitted him to respond to the call. Follow me. In the marvelously colored dawn of an Italian morning, Igilio rose and followed. Coming in Assisi at a crossway he was at a standstill. Where should he look for Francis? Which of those roads should he take? While he thus alternately debated with himself and prayed for guidance, who should he see coming along out of the forest where he had been to pray but Francis himself? There was no mistaking that curious, barefooted figure with its coarse robe of the color known to the peasants as beast color, girded with a knotted rope. Igilio threw himself at Francis' feet and besought him to receive him for the love of God. Dear brother, said Francis, who during the past week had learned not to be surprised when he received candidates for his work. Dear brother, God hath conferred a great grace upon thee. If the emperor were to come to Assisi and propose to make one of its citizens his night, or secret chamberlain, would not such an offer be joyfully accepted as a great mark of honor and distinction, how much more shouldst thou rejoice that God hath called thee to be his night and chosen servant, to observe the perfection of his holy gospel? Or do thou stand firm in the vocation to which God hath called thee? So bringing him into the hut, Francis called the others, and said, God hath sent us a good brother, let us therefore rejoice in the Lord and eat together in charity. After they had eaten breakfast, Francis took Igilio into Assisi to get plough to make him a beast-colored uniform robe like the others. In the way Francis thought he would like to try the young man and see what kind of a spirit he had. So upon meeting a poor woman who asked them for money, Francis said to Igilio, I pray you as we have no money give this poor woman your cloak. Immediately and joyfully Igilio pulled off his rich mantle and handed it to the beggar. There at Francis rejoiced, much in secret. It was a united household that assembled under the rude roof of the mud hut by the riva-torto. Four young men bound together in love and resolved to serve God absolutely in whatever way he should show them. We shall see, ere long, how God used these human instruments which were so unreservedly placed at his disposal. They were very happy for a few days and gave themselves up almost entirely to prayer. Then Francis led them into the seclusion of the woods and explained to them how the divine will had manifested itself to his soul. We must, he said, clearly understand our vocation. It is not for our personal salvation only, but for the salvation of a great many others that God has mercifully called us. He wishes us to go through the world, and by example, even more than by words, exhort men to repentance and the keeping of the commandments. Bernardo, Pietro, and Igilio declared that they were willing for anything, and so the four separated, two by two, for a preaching tour. Of Bernardo and Pietro history is silent, but nothing could have been more simple than the apostolic wanderings of Francis and Igilio in the marshes of Ancona. Along the roads they went wherever the spirit of God led them, singing songs of God in heaven. Their songs, together with their happy countenances and strange costume, naturally attracted the people, and when a number would collect to stare at them, Francis would address them in Igilio with charming simplicity, accentuated all he said, with, �You must believe what my brother Francis tells you. The advice he gives you is very good.� But don't for a moment imagine that Francis was capable of giving an address, far from it. He was, truth to say, very little in advance of Igilio. The burden of his cry being, �Love God, fear him, repent, and you shall be forgiven.� Then when Igilio had poroused, �Do as my brother Francis tells you. The advice he gives you is very good.� The two missionaries passed, singing on their way. But the impression produced was far beyond their simple words. The religious history of the times tells us that the love of God was almost dead in men's hearts, that the world had forgotten the meaning of the word repentance, and was entirely given up to lust and vice and pleasure. People asked each other what could be the object these men had in view. Why did they go about roughly clad barefoot in eating so little? They are madmen, some said. Others, madmen, could not talk so wisely. Others again, more thoughtful, said, �They seem to care so little for life. They are desperate, and must be either mad, or else they are aspiring to very great perfection.� When the four had been through almost all the province, they returned to Riva Torto, where they found three new candidates clamoring for admission. Others followed, and when the numbers had increased to about eight, Francis led them to a spot where four roads met, and sent them out, two and two, to the four points of the compass to preach the gospel. Everywhere they went they were to urge men to repentance, and point them to a saviour who could forgive sins. They were to accept no food they had not either worked for, or received as alms for the love of Christ. CHAPTER XVI Then forth they went, content for ever more to follow him, in weariness, in painfulness, in perils by the way, through awful vigils in the wilderness, through storms of trouble, hatred and reproach. Bernardo de Quintovella is perhaps the most important of these first followers, in as much as he ultimately took his place as leader of the Orders of Friars Minor, which was the name the Franciscans first gave themselves. We have already told how Bernardo came to join Francis, and take upon himself the same vows. From that day his faith and trust in God and his call to him never wavered. That was the secret of his tremendous strength of soul. The strength of a man who is sure of his call and its divinity is as the strength of ten. It was Bernardo, whom Francis deputed in the early days of the work to go to Bologna, and labor there. Bologna was the center of the universe, as far as learning and culture went, to the Italians of that day. As soon as Bernardo and his followers showed themselves in the town, the children, seeing them dress so plainly and poorly, laughed and scoffed, and threw dirt and stones at them. They accepted these trials manfully, and made their way to the marketplace. The children, who followed them here, continued to pelt them with stones and dust, and pulled them round by the hoods of their garments. Day after day, and day after day, Bernardo and his little handful returned, though they could never get anybody to give them a civil hearing. Poor fellows, during those first few days they all but starved. There was a doctor of the law, who used to pass round by the marketplace every day, and seeing Bernardo patiently put up with such insult and contempt, wondered much to himself. At last he arrived at a conclusion. This man must be a great saint. Going up to him he said, Who art thou, and whence dost thou come? Bernardo put his hand into his bosom, and gave him what was then the rules of the order. This was, in other words, the divine commission that Francis had received through the Gospel for that February day, go ye forth, and preach the Gospel, etc. The doctor read it all through, and then, turning to some of his friends who were standing by, said, Truly, here is the most perfect state of religion I have ever heard of. This man and his companions are the holiest men I have ever met with in this world. Guilty indeed are those who insult him. We ought, on the contrary, to honor him as a true friend of God. Then, dressing Bernardo, he said, If it is thy wish to found a convent in this town, in which thou mayest serve God, I will most willingly help thee. Bernardo thanked him, and said, I believe it is our Savior Jesus Christ, who hest I inspired thee with this good intention. I most willingly accept the offer to the honor of Christ. Then the doctor took them home with him, and entertained them, and presented them with a convenient building which he furnished at his own expense. In a short time Bernardo was much sought after, on account of the holiness, together with the brilliancy of his sermons. The whole town was at his feet. People came from far and near to hear him, and thousands were converted. When things were at a height, Bernardo turned up unexpectedly one day in Assisi, and presented himself before the astonished gaze of Francis. The convent is founded at Bologna, he said, Send other brothers there to keep it up. I can no longer be of any use. Indeed, I fear me that the two great honors I receive might make me lose more than I could gain. Francis, who had heard a great deal of the honor and praise that had been lavished upon Bernardo, thanked God that he had revealed to him the danger his soul was in, and sent someone else to Bologna. In striking contrast to Bernardo was Elias. Elias was quite as clever and brilliant a man as Bernardo, but he never seems to have become really sanctified. His pride was a constant stumbling block, and was forever appearing in some new shape or other. Sometimes it would be in an over-winning desire to rule, and then his rule would go far and beyond that of Francis, in fastings and similar austerities. Again we have a picture of him arraying himself in a garment of soft cloth which could only be said to be modelled after that worn by his brethren. Finally he lapsed all together, declared that his health was too delicate to stand coarse food in plain living, and left the order. For some time he was an open backslider, but it is currently supposed he was converted before he died. The story of his life is a sad one. Looking back over these laps of years, one can easily see what he might have been, and how painfully he fell short. The grace of humility never adorned his character for long. He could not see that in God's sight he was less than least. For him it was impossible to lay his intellectual treasure at the low footstool of the crucified. Egidio always remained faithful to his first trust. He also never wavered, never looked back. In the different glimpses we get of his life we see very clearly the mode of living prescribed by Francis. His intention was never that his disciples were to live on charity, but that they should work for their bread, money being totally forbidden. Work brought them down to the level of the common people, and on the same plain they could more easily reach their hearts and consciences. Egidio refined and educated though he undoubtedly was, seems to have been able to put his hand to anything. When on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land he was detained at Brindisi. He borrowed a water jug and, filling it, went round the town selling water and crying, Fresh water, fresh water, like any of the ordinary water carriers. On his way back he procured willows and made baskets which he sold to supply himself with food. He was always very particular not to take more than he considered was fair for his work. Obedience was another of Egidio's strong points. He believed in his call. He believed in Francis. He never questioned an order, even when it was manifestly not altogether a wise instruction he received. He still considered that obedience was better than sacrifice. Maceo appears to have had very little idea what kind of a life he was entering upon when he first joined the band. He was not a spiritual man by nature, but by degrees he learned to look at the inside of things instead of the outside and to know a little of the mind of God. Maceo was big and handsome with a decided gift of speech. We are told that because of his physical attractions the people always gave to him the nicest and daintiest portions of food. It was a matter of no little wonderment to him when he discovered that for all a certain kind of people were attracted by his appearance, yet he had little or no power to convict them of sin and make them long to be good. Francis, by this time, had lost all his good looks and become pale and worn and thin with work. Maceo compared himself with Francis greatly to his superior's disadvantage. At last one day he said to him, Why is it? Why is it? What do you mean, asked Francis? I mean to ask thee, said Maceo, Why all the world goes after thee? Why all men wish to see thee, to hear thee, and to obey thy word? Thou art not handsome, nor learned, nor of noble birth. How is it, then, that men go after thee? The answer which Maceo received made him see what kind of a character he had come in contact with, and from that day there was no more faithful and adoring disciple than handsome Maceo. Would you know the reason why all men come after me, asked Francis? It is because the Lord has not found among men a more wicked, a more imperfect, or a greater sinner than I am, and to accomplish the wonderful work he intends doing he has not found a creature more vile than I upon the earth. For this reason he has chosen me to confound beauty, greatness, birth, and all the science of the world, that men may learn that every good gift comes from him, and not from the creature that all may glory in the Lord. Sylvester was the first priest who joined Francis. Although a priest he was possessed of very little true religion, and was inclined to be somewhat avaricious. When Francis was rebuilding Saint Damien, Sylvester had sold him some stones, for which he had been well paid. Now he happened to be among the crowd in the marketplace when Bernardo was distributing his fortune, and it occurred to him that he would get some of it for himself. So going up to Francis, he said, Brother, you did not pay me very well for the stones which you bought of me. Francis, who had not a spark of avarice in his nature, handed him a handful of coins without stopping to count them, saying, Here, are you sufficiently paid now? It is enough, my brother, said Sylvester, taking the money and moving off. But from that hour he never knew a moment's peace. His action haunted him. He could neither sleep by night nor rest by day. The difference between Francis and Bernardo and himself came vividly before him. He repented of his sin, and as soon as ever his affairs would permit, about a year later, he joined Francis. There are some historians who declare that Ginny Perot was mad. The majority, however, dispute this, and say that what looked like madness was simply zeal. Zeal perhaps untempered with discretion. Ginny Perot was devoted, self-sacrificing and faithful. He mourned over his mistakes and was always ready to acknowledge himself in the wrong. It was with the greatest difficulty that he was taught that he mustn't give away anything and everything he could lay his hands on. When he saw any one poor or ill-clothed, he would immediately take off his clothes and hand them over. He was at last strictly forbidden to do this. A few days later he met a poor man who begged from him. I have nothing, said Ginny Perot, in great compassion, which I could give thee but my tonic, and I am under orders not to give that away. But if thou wilt take it off my back I will not resist thee. No sooner said than done, and Ginny Perot returned home tonic-less. When questioned, he said, a good man took it off my back and went away with it. It was necessary to clear everything portable out of Ginny Perot's way, because whatever he could lay his hands on he gave to the poor. His great humility on one occasion nearly led him to the gallows. There was a cruel tyrant named Niklas, a nobleman living near Viterbo, whom all the town hated. This man had been warned that some would come in the guise of a poor beggar and take his life. Niklas gave orders that the castle was to be strictly guarded. A few days later, luckless Ginny Perot appeared in the vicinity of the castle. On the way thither some young men had seized him, torn his cloak, and covered him with dust so that he was a sight to behold for rags and dirt. As soon as he came near the castle he was taken as a suspicious character and cruelly beaten. He was asked who he was. I am a great sinner, was the answer. He certainly looked like a ruffian. When further asked his designs he explained, I am a great traitor and unworthy of any mercy. Then they asked if he meant to burn the castle and kill Niklas. Worse things than these would I do, only for God, he replied. Such a hardened, bold-faced criminal never stood before a bar. He was taken, tied to a horse's tail and dragged through the town to the gallows. If it had not been for the intervention of a good man in the crowd, who knew the friars, he would have been hung. Brother Guinepero, said one of the friars one day, we are all going out, and by the time we come back with you have got us a little refreshment. Most willingly, said Guinepero, leave it to me. Out he went with a sack, and asked food from door to door for his brethren. When he was well laden and returned home. What a pity it is, Guinepero, to himself, as he put on two great pots, that a brother should be lost in the kitchen. I shall cook enough dinner to serve us for two weeks to come, and then we'll give ourselves to prayer. So saying he piled in everything, salt meat, fresh meat, eggs in their shells, chickens with the feathers on, and vegetables. One of the friars who returned before the others was amazed to see the two enormous pots on a roaring fire, with Guinepero poking at them alternately, protected from the heat by a board he had fastened around his neck. At last dinner was ready, and pouring it out before the hungry friars he said complacently, eat a good dinner now, and then we'll go to prayer. There'll be no more cooking for a long time to come, for I have cooked enough for a fortnight. Alas! one historian informs us, there was never a hog in the Campania of Rome so hungry that he could have eaten it. But in spite of all the curious tales we read about the blunderings of this simple soul, his name has been handed down through the ages as that of a saint, for the highway of holiness is such that a wafering man, though a fool, shall not air therein. Leo, whom they called the little sheep of God, who became Francis' secretary, was one of the best loved of the disciples. In Leo Francis' soul found rest and help and comfort. His nature was simple, affectionate and refined, and in every respect he was a true Franciscan. There are others whose names we find among the early Franciscans, but the foregoing are those who stand out most prominently. Thive's interpreter art thou, to the waiting ones below, twixed them and its light midway heralding the better day. We have seen Francis as a young man, gay, careless, pleasure-loving, kind-hearted, a leader at every feast and revel, known to his companions as a thorough good fellow. We have watched the first strivings of the Holy Spirit in his soul, and marked his earnest attempts to follow the light that then began to penetrate his hitherto dark soul. We have followed that glimmering light with him, step by step. Seen him persecuted, mocked, stoned, beaten, watched his lonely wilderness wrestlings when there was no human eye to pity, no human arm to suffer. We have seen, too, how little by little this thorny pathway led to a closer and more intimate acquaintance with God. For which acquaintance Francis counted his sufferings as nothing and the world well lost? Francis was not an extraordinary character in any sense of the word. He was what he was simply and solely by the grace of God, which is ever free for all men. He was not a man created for the hour. He was a vessel, cleansed and emptied, and thus fit for the master's use, and God used him as he always uses such vessels. The whole secret of his sainthood lay in his simple, loving, implicit obedience. Not the lifeless obedience that one renders to inexorable law, but the heartfelt, passionate desire to serve, and to anticipate the lightest want of the one object of the affections. That baptism of personal love for God and union with Christ was poured out upon Francis in the black hour of what looked to him complete failure. When hunted and pursued he sought refuge from his angry friends in the caves of the earth. The gift that he then received he never ceased to guard and cherish, and other blessings were added to it, for God has promised to him that hath it shall be given, and God gave liberally good measure, pressed down and running over. But the gifts which were Francis are ours too, by right of divine grace, to be had for the faithful seeking, and kept by pure, faithful and obedient living, called to be saints. The few, one here and there in every century, oh no, called to be saints are the myriads and souls who have received the divine touch of regeneration. This is the calling and election of the redeemed, but oh, how few there are that make them sure. Five years had now elapsed since that spring morning, when weak and ill from fever, Francis dragged himself out of doors to look again on the glorious landscape that he thought would bring him health and healing. The story of his disappointment we have already told. During those five years Francis made gigantic strides in heavenly wisdom and knowledge, and we feel that we cannot do better than to pause in our narrative and try to give you some idea of the spiritual personality of the man, whose name even now the people were beginning to couple with that of saint. In appearance Francis was a thorough Italian. He was rather below than over the ordinary height. His eyes and hair were dark, and his bearing free and gracious. He was chiefly remarkable for his happy joyous expression, this he never lost, even when illness had robbed him of his good looks, the light in his eyes and the smile on his lips were always the same. The most striking points of Francis' character are perhaps his humility, his sincerity, and his childlike simplicity. Humble Francis was not by nature, there was nothing in his training to make him so, and everything that would tend to the growth of pride and arrogance. But with his conversion humility became one of his strongest convictions. He truly considered himself less than the least, and he held it to be an offense against God if he ever let himself or his little feelings and prejudices stand in the way of accomplishing what he believed to be for the extension of the kingdom. It seemed as though he had no feelings to be hurt. But most people would call justifiable sensitiveness, Francis would call sin. He went straight to the mark, and if he did not accomplish all he wanted to at first, he simply tried again, and generally succeeded sooner or later. In places where the fires were not known, Francis often founded a little difficult to get permission to preach in the churches. At a place called Imola, for instance, where he went to ask the bishop for the use of the church, the bishop replied, coldly and distantly, My brother, I preach in my own parish, I am not in need of anyone to aid me in my task. Francis bowed and went out. An hour later he presented himself again. What have you come for again? asked the bishop angrily. What do you want? My lord answered Francis in his simple way. When a father turns his son out of one door, the son has but one thing to do. To return by another. This holy boldness won the bishop's heart. You are right, he said. You and your brothers may preach in my diocese. I give you a general permission to do so.  Francis never considered himself at liberty to shake the dust of a city off his feet unless he had tried and tried again and again to get a hearing there. Indeed, nothing convinced him of the uselessness of his quest unless he were thrown out neck and crop. Then it was more than likely he would gather himself up and try another entrance. He entirely forgot himself in his love for his master. His love of truth was, with him, almost a passion. In his thoughts and his words and his actions there was a perfect agreement. Neither one contradicted the other. He sought to it that it was so, knowing that nothing hurt the Gospel of Christ like insincerity or double-dealing. Distractions in prayer he looked upon as secret lies and saying with the lips what the heart did not go with. How shameful, he used to say, to allow oneself to fall into vain distractions when one is addressing the great king. We should not speak in that manner even to a respectable man. On one occasion he had carved a little olive wood vase, probably meaning to sell it for food. But while at prayer one day some thought connected with this work came into his mind, distracting his soul for the moment. Instantly he was full of contrition, and as soon as he left his prayer hastened to put his vase into the fire, where never again it could come between his soul and God. One day on meeting a friend on the road they stopped to converse. On parting the friend said, You will pray for me? To which Francis replied willingly. Hardly was the other out of sight when Francis said to his companion, Wait a little for me. I am going to kneel down and discharge the obligation I have just contracted. This was always his habit. Instead of promising and forgetting, as so many do, he never rested till he had fulfilled the promise he had made. During the last two years of his life he was often very weak and ailing. One cold winter his companion, seeing that the clothes he was wearing were very thin and patched, was filled with compassion on his account. He secretly got a piece of fox skin. My father, he said, showing him the skin, You suffer very much from your liver and stomach. I beg of you, let me sew this fur under your tunic. If you will not have it all, let it at least cover your stomach. I will do what you wish, said Francis, but you must sew as large a piece outside as in. His companion couldn't see any sense in this arrangement and objected very strongly. The reason is quite plain, said Francis. The outside piece will show everybody that I allow myself this comfort. They had to give in at last, and Francis had his way. O admirable man, writes a friend after his death, Thou hast always been the same within and without, in words and in deeds, below and above. On another occasion he tore off his tunic, because for a brief moment of weakness he harbored the thought that he might have led an easier life and still serve God. Like other men he might have had a settled home and lived a tranquil existence. It was a passing temptation, but Francis tearing off his coarse garment, emblem of the cross that he strove to follow, cried, It is a religious habit. A man given up to such thoughts would be a robber if he wore it. Nor did he put it on again till he felt he could do so with a pure heart and clean conscience.  His sermons and addresses were of the very simplest and plainest. Though Francis was undoubtedly one of the orders of the age, his fiery words and burning language were such that even the most unlearned could easily follow. His theme was simply Christ, and Christ crucified for our sins, and an exhortation to repentance and holy living. Every once pondered his words and marveled wherein lay his power, little dreaming that his very plainness of speech was his strength. His delight in the beauties of nature never left him. Sunset and sunrise, mountain and plain, river and sea alike filled him with joy, and all spoke to him of the glory of God. Francis always gave him special pleasure. He insisted that his disciples should always reserve some portion of their gardens for the growth of flowers as well as vegetables to give them a foretaste of the eternal sweetness of heaven. When the brethren went to the fields to chop wood, Francis always warned them to take care of the roots, so that the trunk might sprout again and live. To take life of any kind was intolerable to him. For this reason he always lifted the worms out of his path and laid them at the side of the road lest an unconscious traveler might crush them. His love and power over animals are almost too well known to need mention. He always spoke of them as his brothers and sisters. He disdained nothing, all were to him alike, beautiful because the work of his God. For a long time he had a tame sheep that followed him about wherever it could get a chance. This sheep always seemed to know exactly how to behave under all circumstances. When the brethren knelt at prayers, it knelt too. When they sang, it joined in with a not-too-loud little bleat. Near his room at the Portian Cula there lived a grasshopper in a fig vine. This little insect would hop on his finger at his bidding, and when told to sing and praise the Lord, used to chirp with all its might. Birds, insects, and even fishes and wild animals, we are told, all recognized in Francis a friend and readily did his bidding. Francis' love for God was supreme, and his belief that God loved him never wavered. To make people love and know God was his one burning desire. It was not so much God's service, he delighted in, as God himself. He never lost sight of the master in the work, and to a large extent this was the key to all his success. His work was the outcome of his love. After we have received, the first natural impulse is to give. Francis possessed two small mites and ancient historian-rights. They were his body and his soul. He gave them both, bravely and freely, according to his custom. Whatever came, joy, sorrow, success, failure, pain, weariness, sickness, insult, or favor, Francis took as direct from the hand of God and blessed him for all. Why shouldn't he? His heart was right. He had the assurance that his ways pleased God, and his faith was not dependent upon knowledge. He was content, nay, glad to trust where he could not see, confident in the belief that nothing could hurt a sanctified soul. His disciples could not always follow him so far. Some of them, when they saw their master suffering, as he did suffer severely in his last days, thought that God might have led his beloved home by a less painful road. One of them once gave expression to his feelings thus, Ah, my brother, pray to the Lord that he may treat you more gently.  Hurt to the quick, as well as indignant. Francis cried, What is that you are saying? If I did not know your simplicity, I should henceforth hold you in horror. What! You have the audacity to blame God's dealings with me? Then throwing himself on his knees he prayed, Oh, my Lord God, I give thee thanks for all these pains I endure. I pray thee to send me a hundredfold more, if such be thy good pleasure. I willingly accept all afflictions. Thy holy name is my superabundant joy. Nothing could ever make Francis say that anything in his lot was very hard. His love was too loyal, his trust too complete. Joy was one of his cardinal articles of faith. Every joyce always was a divine command and one not to be overlooked. As a young man he had been of a bright joyous nature, but easily plunged into depths of sadness and melancholy. God taught him upon what to base his joy, and when he had torn down all earthly external devices led him to derive his all from the true source. He held joy to be the normal state of those whom God loves, the fruit of Christian life without which everything languishes and dies. The devil, Francis always said, carries dust with him, and whenever he can he throws it into the openings of the soul in order to cloud the clearness of its thoughts and the purity of its actions. If joy knows how to defend itself and subsist then he has had his spite for nothing, but if the servant of Christ becomes sad, bitter or unhappy he is sure to triumph. Sooner or later that soul will be overwhelmed by its sadness or will seek for false joys or consolations. The servant of God who is troubled for any reason, Francis always allowed that causes for trouble in this world are innumerable, must immediately have recourse to prayer and remain in the presence of his heavenly Father till the joy of salvation has been restored to him, otherwise his sadness will increase and engender a rust in the soul. This duty of cheerfulness Francis impressed upon all with whom he had to do. My brother, he said to a friar of dullful countenance one day, if thou hast some fault to mourn do it in secret, groan and weep before God, but hear with thy brethren be as they are in tone and countenance. His conviction of this duty was so strong that during one large gathering of fires he had this advice written in large letters and posted up. Let the brethren avoid ever-appearing somber, sad and clouded, like the hypocrites, but let them always be found joyful in the Lord, gay, amiable, gracious as his fitting. Amiability and graciousness he also considered amongst the virtues, courtesy he called it, and courtesy he always said was akin to charity, her younger sister, who was to go with the elder one and help to open all hearts to her. An historian writes thus of Francis. He was very courteous and gracious in all things, and possessed a peace and serenity that nothing could disturb. This sympathy and benevolence was expressed on his countenance. His face had in it something angelic. His songs and hymns were the outcome of his perpetual joy in the Lord. In those days there were no popular religious hymns or songs. People praised God in Latin with psalms and chants. Francis never found that these gave vent to his feelings, and so with the help of one of the brothers, Pacificus, a trained musician, he began to write his own. And soon, wherever the fires passed, they left a train of simple melody in their wake. It was Francis and his brethren who first turned the Italian language into poetry and gave it that impetus which has since rendered it the typical language for song. End of Section 7, Recording by Tom Hirsch


Hello and welcome to the session. In this session we will discuss a question which says that if x be real, show that value of 2x square minus 2x plus 4 whole upon x square minus 4x plus 3 cannot lie between minus 7 and 1. Now before starting the solution of this question, we should know about a method and that is the method of intervals. Now for this method, the first step is to factorize the quadratic expression whose coefficient of x square is positive and express left hand side of the inequality in the form x minus alpha the whole into x minus beta the whole where alpha is less than beta. Secondly, plot the points alpha and beta to the number line and thus dividing the number line into three parts. After dividing the number line into three parts and plotting the points alpha beta starting from the very right region put the sign plus minus and plus so that the expression x minus alpha the whole into x minus beta the whole is non-negative in the region on the right of beta. Now when x minus alpha the whole into x minus beta the whole is greater than equal to 0 then the required range will be minus infinity is less than x is less than equal to alpha or beta is less than equal to x is less than infinity. It means that x minus alpha the whole into x minus beta the whole is positive in this region. Now this method will work out as a key idea for solving out this question and now we will start with the solution. Now here we have to show that this expression cannot lie between minus 7 and 1.  Now cross multiplying this will be y into x square minus 4x plus 3 the whole is equal to 2x square minus 2x plus 4. Further this implies yx square minus 4xy plus 3y y is equal to 2x square minus 2x plus 4. Now taking all these terms on this side, this implies y minus 2 the whole into x square minus 2 into 2y minus 1 the whole into x plus 3y square minus 4 is equal to 0. Now this is a quadratic equation in x and since x is real, therefore, b square minus 4ac is greater than equal to 0. Now comparing this equation with the standard form of quadratic equation here, a is equal to y minus 2, b is equal to minus 2 into 2y minus 1 the whole and c is equal to 3y minus 4. Now b square minus 4ac is greater than equal to 0, so substituting the values of a, b and c here, we get minus 2 into 2y minus 1 the whole whole square minus 4 into y minus 2 the whole into 3y minus 4 the whole is greater than equal to 0. Further this implies our opening the square it will be 4 within brackets 4y square plus 1 minus 4y minus 4 and multiplying these two expressions it will give 3y square minus 10y plus 8 is greater than equal to 0. Now dividing both sides by 4 this implies 4y square plus 1 minus 4y minus within brackets 3y square minus 10y plus 8 is greater than equal to 0. This implies 4y square plus 1 minus 4y minus 3y square plus 10y minus 8 is greater than equal to 0. On solving this this implies y square plus 6y minus 7 is greater than equal to 0. Now factorizing this by splitting the middle term this will be y square plus 7y minus y minus 7 is greater than equal to 0 which will be further y within brackets y plus 7 and from these two terms minus 1 is common and within brackets y plus 7 is greater than equal to 0. This implies y plus 7 the whole into y minus 1 the whole is greater than equal to 0. Now putting each factor equal to 0 we get y is equal to minus 7 and 1. Now by the method of intervals we will plot these points on the number line. Now we have plotted these points on the number line. Now starting from the right put the signs as plus minus and plus as y plus 7 the whole into y minus 1 the whole is greater than equal to 0. So according to the formula which is given in the key idea if x minus alpha the whole into x minus beta the whole is greater than equal to 0 then the range is minus infinity is less than x is less than equal to alpha or beta is less than equal to x less than infinity. So here the range will be minus infinity is less than y is less than equal to minus 7 or 1 is less than equal to y is less than infinity as y plus 7 the whole into y minus 1 the whole is positive so the value of y will lie in this range as it is a positive region also as this region is negative so y cannot lie in between this region and this region varies from minus 7 to 1. So we can write that y cannot lie between minus 7 and 1 as y plus 7 the whole into y minus 1 the whole is positive or in other words you can say that the expression 2x square minus 2x plus 4 whole upon x square minus 4x plus 3 cannot lie between minus 7 and 1. So this is the solution of the given question and that's all for the session hope you all have enjoyed the session.


And I'll start with Muslim ban Muslim ban number one and Muslim ban number two very different second one is a halal pig Dear and his team Donald Trump. This is from Isis about your Muslim ban. Wow What more can we say than thank you? Thank you. Thank you love and death to America This is Trump kind of miffed pistol bit at All those so-called forefathers, and there's so-called constitution Isis lovers No comment you're fired She says you know in her things. She says you're tired. You're poor and all that's why there's decided to fire Russian dolls we have put in inside Flynn inside the manor for side sessions Etc. Etc. And the tiniest one in the middle is a Trump himself Conflict of interest oh contraire More like a confluence of interest Pants on fire you have three Three firemen brand man brand of CIA Hayden and the NSA and the Comey of the FBI And my little bird there says the president's all wet Donald's Palestine all you can eat buffet I know if you've seen him on stage with Netanyahu saying hey anything that BB is for I'm for too We can have as much of Palestine as they want At the confirmation hearing for Attorney General my point ladies and gentlemen of Senate Don't judge a book by its cover Attila the Trump wherever he goes democracy never grows again Credibility of the elections on fire checks and balances civil rights and women's rights the press Conflict of interest safeguards transparency all of that is gone Islamophobes and Islamic extremists of the world unite The more you kill the more likely I'll beat Hillary. This was before the election The more you hate the eater the easier I recruit Where would we be without each other? More in Islamophobia high terrorist alerts today. This is a Muslim American family watching the news Muslim weather news high terrorist alerts today gathering clouds of suspicion strong winds of backlash increased hate crimes 80% chance of FBI harassment and a slight chance of Guantanamo Oops, and the last one here. I promise that be brief This is three three agents and and well, let me just read the The balloons here another highly suspicious document found in the neighborhood mosque and of course It's all gibberish. It says we the people the right of the people to be secure in their houses, etc Time to call in the Arabic translator


Hey guys, Thundie E here and welcome to my brand new iPhone SE 2020 speaker test. This is the phone we've been waiting for, $399 from Apple and yes, everyone's been dying to get this. Yes, I will be giving the giveaway for three of the iPhone SEs so stay tuned to the end of this video. Also, I want to give a big shout out to our sponsor for this video, Visible Mobile, where you can actually pick up this device, not for $399 but for $184 as low as $184 for the iPhone SE. That is truly insane. This of course is the aid of a $200 Mastercard gift card from Visible Mobile. Visible Mobile also has some really cost effective plans at $40, everything included text, data, phone calls, all that fun stuff covered within the Verizon network and there are no annual contracts. So this is a really cool deal and also a great place to pick up the iPhone SE if you want to pick it up right now. Use the links down below. Okay, so this device packs in a lot. We know it's got an A13 processor, we know it's got a 4.7 inch display, it's a red night HD display, it's got the Touch ID, it's got things people like, it's got the size that some people are looking for but how does it sound in terms of audio? Well, it's got stereo speakers, Apple says that so let's take a quick listen to see how well it actually sounds. It was actually surprisingly good and clear, especially listening to just the game audio from Call of Duty Mobile and also my vocals from Faraway. The camera was actually placed roughly around four to five feet away so there's enough distance for it to pick it up and it sounded really, really good. I like the sound. I must admit. How loud is it? Because we always do a decibel test, right? So I'm going to compare it to some of the phones I compared last week. I'm talking about devices like the OnePlus 8, OnePlus 8 Pro, the Galaxy S20 Ultra, the iPhone 11 Pro Max, it's a big brother, the Huawei of course, you know, P40 Pro. To see where the decibel allows, is it as loud as the other ones or is it lower? But it sounded loud to me but let's take some readings and check it out. It was impressive, 106 decibels. Now some of you say, hey, Thunder E, you put the microphone behind. I put it at the loudest position for the microphone. That's just my test. But either way, 106 decibels is really good for this device. I have to tell you that I was quite impressed with the audio that this device brings. It's clear, it's crisp, it sounds well and it places well in terms of loudness that a lot of people will like. If you're picking up the iPhone SE, whether it's from Visible Mobile or if you win the contest, then you know, yeah, you can actually get some really good audio. So I do like it and I will recommend it in terms of audio, especially with speakers for people who are looking for that. So if you have any more questions about the brand new iPhone SE 2020, let me know. And stay tuned for more videos. I have my gaming video coming next and you guys are waiting for that. And you guys are waiting, okay, saying, hey Thunder E, what about that giveaway? Yes. All you have to do is enter into the giveaway using the Gleam IO link down below and go through all the entries and you're entered to win. The winners will be announced in two weeks. I'll announce the winners. I'll place the winners names in this video here, as well as also announce them on Twitter. Plus, this is open to everyone worldwide. So you don't have to, it's not limited to US or Canada, it's open to everyone. All right, guys. Thank you very much. If you're looking to pick up this device right now, as I mentioned, definitely use the link down below from Visible Mobile. It can be as low as $184. So that's a pretty good deal. Stay tuned for more videos and always enjoy your entertainment.


Did you know that 8 million tons of plastic are dumped into the ocean every year? It's so bad that by 2050 there's projected to be more metric tons of plastic in the sea than fish. So how do we stop it? In the next five years new recycling processes developed by IBM will help steer plastic away from the environment and into new plastic. Unlike traditional recycling this new technology breaks down both colored and clear plastics, dirty and clean containers, and even polyester fabric. Essentially it turns plastic into a renewable resource. That means no more rinsing and no more separating and a lot less junk in the ocean.


Welcome to Spotlight Advanced. I'm Bruce Gulland. And I'm Liz Wade. Spotlight uses a special English method of broadcasting. It is easier for people to understand, no matter where in the world they live. On August 12, 2018, Hawke Newsom was visiting Washington, D.C. in the United States. He was walking with a crowd of people. They were all a part of an eight-day march. This peaceful protest was called the agape march. Agape is a Greek word that means love. But agape is not just any kind of love. This love means that we give of ourselves for others. When we practice agape love, we are seeking the best for another person, even through our own sacrifice. The goal of the agape march was to spread love. This kind of love is the opposite of hate. Today's Spotlight program is the first in a series of ten programs. In this series of programs, we will look at ten ways to fight hate. Hate is a very damaging feeling. It damages the person hating, and it damages the person who is being hated.  A person commits a hate crime because he hates that the other person is different. Hate crimes can take many different forms. Hate crimes may be violent, or they may be non-violent. But they are very damaging to people and communities. They always are meant to scare or hurt other people. The Southern Poverty Law Center has made this list of ten ways to fight hate in your community. In today's program, we will look at the first way to fight hate in your community. Act Hawke Newsom wanted to act because of what he had seen a year before. One year before, in Charlottesville, Virginia, a hate group formed rallies and shouted hateful words. Violence broke out between the hate group and protesters. During the violence, a man drove his car into the protesters. He killed a woman and injured 19 more people. This incident affected Newsom. This is why he began the Agape March. He told Newsweek, I was in Charlottesville last year. I saw the tear gas, the rocks, and the guns. I saw the power of hate. What I want to see now is the power of love. Hate crime happens in many places around the world. Maybe you have seen or experienced a hate crime for yourself. People who observe or experience hate crimes often feel helpless or alone. But it is important to remember that you do have the power to stop hate. You are not alone. Many people in your community also want to stop hate. Imagine if you read about the violence in Charlottesville. What would you have done? The Southern Poverty Law Center, or SPLC, says that when you observe a hate crime, you could react in two different ways. First, you could do nothing. You could continue living your life as you are. Or you could react in a completely different way. You could do something. They suggest that you rise up, speak up, and stand up against hate. People must act out against hate crimes. Hate will continue if people do not act.  The hate crime in Charlottesville influenced the whole community. Hate tears communities apart. When communities are in conflict, all members of the community suffer. Experts say that hate crimes encourage community conflict and riots more than any other crimes. So the SPLC suggests that people should react to hate crimes by doing good things. In one city in West Virginia, Vandals wrote words of hate on the outside wall of a building. A teacher at a school nearby discussed this act of vandalism with his students. The children wanted to fight this form of hate crime. They decided to paint over the hateful words. The Vandals sent a message of hate. But the students sent another message. They sent a message saying that they did not want hate in their community.  The students reacted. The criminals could see that the community did not agree with their words of hate. What can you do to fight hate in your community? That is not an easy question. But there are many things to try. You can lead a prayer, paint over vandalism, or speak in your place of worship or school. You can work with others to lead a meeting in your community and think of ideas to stop hate crimes. You can organize a rally. Gather many people together to protest hate. If you are an artist, offer to make materials to inform other people about the anti-hate rallies. If you play an instrument, offer to perform at a concert to raise money to fight hate. Hawke Newsom saw the power of hate. He was sad and angry because of the injustice he had seen. He believed that a change was necessary. Otherwise more violence like the kind people saw in Charlottesville would happen again. He wanted to make a difference. So he worked with other people to make the Agape March. He told Newsweek, This march is an exercise of love. A revolutionary love. With it, we seek to truly change America.  As the SPLC says, in the face of hate, silence is deadly. We cannot stay still and silent when hate is around us. We must act. This is the first program in a series of 10 programs on 10 ways to fight hate. This list is from the Southern Poverty Law Center. The Southern Poverty Law Center is a group that works toward racial justice, especially in the Southern United States. They monitor hate crimes, teach tolerance and seek justice. Here are their 10 ways to fight hate. Act. Join forces. Support the victims. Speak up. Educate yourself. Create an alternative. Pressure leaders. Stay engaged. Teach acceptance. And dig deeper. Keep listening to Spotlight to hear the complete series. You can leave a comment on our website, or email us at contact at spotlightenglish.com. Visit us on YouTube at youtube.com slash spotlightenglish1. The writers of this program were Liz Wade and Amelia Berglund. The producer was Mityo Zaki. The voices you heard were from the United Kingdom and the United States. All quotes were adapted for this program and voiced by Spotlight. You can listen to this program again and read it on the internet at www.spotlightenglish.com. This program is called 10 ways to fight hate. Act. Visit our website to download our free official app for Android and Apple devices. We hope you can join us again for the next Spotlight program. Goodbye.