he 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.

[Sidenote: _A Fox-skin._]

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.

"Oh, 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!"

[Sidenote: _A Temptation._]

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.

With the crystal transparency of his inner and outer life went a
simplicity that was akin to that of a little child. His sermons and
addresses were of the very simplest and plainest. Though Francis was
undoubtedly one of the orators 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. Learned ones pondered his
words and marvelled wherein lay his power, little dreaming that h