sacred objects,
ill-concealed by tinsel, gave him a sort of pain, and it often happened
that when he was going to preach somewhere he secretly called together
the priests of the locality and implored them to look after the decency
of the service. But even in these cases he was not content to preach
only in words; binding together some stalks of heather he would make
them into brooms for sweeping out the churches.

One day in the suburbs of Assisi he was performing this task when a
peasant appeared, who had left his oxen and cart out in the fields while
he came to gaze at him.

"Brother," said he on entering, "give me the broom. I will help
you," and he swept out the rest of the church.

When he had finished, "Brother," he said to Francis, "for a long
time I have decided to serve God, especially when I heard men
speak of you. But I never knew how to find you. Now it has
pleased God that we should meet, and henceforth I shall do
whatever you may please to command me."

Francis seeing his fervor felt a great joy; it seemed to him
that with his simplicity and honesty he would become a good
friar.

It appears indeed that he had only too much simplicity, for after his
reception he felt himself bound to imitate every motion of the master,
and when the latter coughed, spat, or sighed, he did the same. At last
Francis noticed it and gently reproved him. Later he became so perfect
that the other friars admired him greatly, and after his death, which
took place not long after, St. Francis loved to relate his conversion,
calling him not Brother John, but Brother St. John.[23]

Ginepro is still more celebrated for his holy follies.

One day he went to see a sick Brother and offered him his services. The
patient confessed that he had a great longing to eat a pig's foot; the
visitor immediately rushed out, and armed with a knife ran to the
neighboring forest, where, espying a troop of pigs, he cut off a foot of
one of them, returning to the monastery full of pride over his trophy.

The owner of the pigs shortly followed, howling like mad, but Ginepro
went straight to him and pointed out with so much volubility that he had
done him a great service, that the man, after overwhelming him with
reproaches, suddenly begged pardon, killed the pig and invited all the
Brothers to feast upon it. Ginepro was probably less mad than the story
would lead us to suppose; Franciscan humility never had a