ttention, but they were like germs a long time buried, which suddenly,
under a warm ray of sunlight, bring forth unlooked-for fruit.

The boy's education was not carried very far;[9] the school was in
those days overshadowed by the church. The priests of San Giorgio were
his teachers,[10] and taught him a little Latin. This language was
spoken in Umbria until toward the middle of the thirteenth century;
every one understood it and spoke it a little; it was still the language
of sermons and of political deliberations.[11]

He learned also to write, but with less success; all through his life we
see him take up the pen only on rare occasions, and for but a few
words.[12] The autograph of Sacro-Convento, which appears to be
entirely authentic, shows extreme awkwardness; in general he dictated,
signing his letters by a simple [Greek: tau], the symbol of the cross of
Jesus.[13]

That part of his education which was destined to have most influence
upon his life was the French language,[14] which he perhaps spoke in his
own family. It has been rightly said that to know two languages is to
have two souls; in learning that of France the boy felt his heart thrill
to the melody of its youthful poetry, and his imagination was
mysteriously stirred with dreams of imitating the exploits of the French
cavaliers.

But let us not anticipate. His early life was that of other children of
his age. In the quarter of the town where his house is still shown no
vehicles are ever seen; from morning till night the narrow streets are
given over to the children. They play there in many groups, frolicking
with an exquisite charm, very different from the little Romans, who,
from the time they are six or seven years old, spend hours at a time
squatting behind a pillar, or in a corner of a wall or a ruin, to play
dice or "morra," putting a passionate ferocity even into their play.

In Umbria, as in Tuscany, children love above all things games in which
they can make a parade; to play at soldiers or procession is the supreme
delight of Assisan children. Through the day they keep to the narrow
streets, but toward evening they go, singing and dancing, to one of the
open squares of the city. These squares are one of the charms of Assisi.
Every few paces an interval occurs between the houses looking toward the
plain, and you find a delightful terrace, shaded by a few trees, the
very place for enjoying the sunset without losing one of its splendors.
Hit