ve
been equally interesting, but all that history has handed down to us
is a list of names. The tiny seed that Francis had sown in weakness
was rapidly becoming a great tree. Though this progress was gratifying
to him, it also caused him some suffering. By nature he was intensely
affectionate, and when one by one he had to send out from him his old
companions to take charge of distant branches, his heart was sad
indeed.

One day while he was thinking, as he often did, about his absent
friends, the thought occurred to him that something might be done to
alleviate this separation. Something, too, that would benefit the
entire Order. Twice a year it was arranged that all the brethren, new
and old, should meet at the Portiuncula. This idea proved to be so
good that it became one of the fundamental rules of the Order.

[Sidenote: _A Curious Scene._]

The first of these "Chapters," as they were called, was held after
Francis had completed his tour in Central Italy. The brethren came
from far and near. They came pouring in from all quarters, up from the
valleys, and down from the mountains, and from the shining sea-coast,
streams of brown-robed, bare-footed men of all classes and conditions
of life. And what were they coming to? A little church and convent as
poor as themselves, where there were not even provisions enough on
hand to supply one-hundredth part of the hundreds that were flocking
there with one meal! But in perfect faith and trust they came,
plodding along under the blazing sun, some rapt in meditation, others
saluting all they met with their gentle salutation, "the peace of
God."

Such a sight was never seen in Italy before, and from castle and city
poured glittering vividly-colored groups to see the wonderful sight.
The richly-colored garments of the crowd, and the gaily-decked
cavalcade from the country and castle formed a brilliant foil to the
brown-robed stream of friars. The Portiuncula is situated on one of
the lowest slopes of the Apennine hills, below it stretches the wide
plain. This was the guest-chamber. There were no other beds than the
bare ground, with here and there a little straw. But we need not pity
them as far as sleeping out of doors goes, because the Umbrian nights
are of all things most beautiful. The air was soft and warm, and the
brilliant blue-starred heavens above did away with any need of
artificial light.

Francis met this crowd with great pleasure and cheerfulness, though he
h