ed; 'neither
gold nor silver in your purses;' not even the scrip to collect
fragments in--as if God could not provide for every returning
necessity. There had been monasteries in Italy for centuries, and
the Benedictines were already a great and flourishing community;
but this absolute renunciation of all things struck a certain chill
to the hearts of all who heard of it, except the devoted band who
had no will but that of Francis. His friend, the Bishop of Assisi,
was one of those who stumbled at this novel and wonderful
self-devotion. 'Your life, without a possession in the world, seems
to me most hard and terrible,' said the compassionate prelate. 'My
lord,' said Francis, 'if we had possessions, arms and protection
would be necessary to us.' There was a force in this response which
perhaps we can scarcely realize, but the Assisan bishop, who knew
something of the temper of the lords of Umbria, and knew how lonely
were the brethren dwelling on the church lands--the little plot
(Portiuncula) a whole half league from the city gates--understood
and perceived the justice of the reply.

"Another grand distinction of the Rule drawn up by Francis was the
occupation it prescribed to its members. They were not to shut
themselves up, or to care first for their own salvation. They were
to preach--this was their special work; they were to proclaim
repentance and the remission of sins; they were to be heralds of
God to the world, and proclaim the coming of His kingdom. It is not
possible to suppose that when he thus began to organize the mind of
Francis did not make a survey of the establishments already in
existence--the convents bound by the same three great vows, where
life at this moment was going on so placidly, with flocks and herds
and vineyards to supply the communities, and studious monks in
their retirement, safe from all secular anxieties, fostering all
the arts in their beginning, and carrying on the traditions of
learning; while all around them the great unquiet, violent world
heaved and struggled, yet within the convent walls there was
leisure and peace. Blessed peace and leisure it was often, let us
allow, preserving for us the germs of many good things we now
enjoy, and raising little centres of safety and charity and
brotherly kindness t