The most striking points of Francis' character are, perhaps, his humility, his sincerity, and his childlike simplicity. Humble Francis was not by nature. There was nothing in his training to make him so, and everything that would tend to the growth of pride and arrogance. But, with his conversion, humility became one of his strongest convictions. He truly considered himself less than the least, and he held it to be an offence against God if he ever let himself, or his little feelings and prejudices, stand in the way of accomplishing what he believed to be for the extension of the Kingdom. It seemed as though he had no feelings to be hurt. What most people would call justifiable sensitiveness, Francis would call sin. He went straight to the mark, and if he did not accomplish all he wanted to at first, he simply tried again, and generally succeeded sooner or later. In places where the Friars were not known, Francis often found it a little difficult to get permission to preach in the churches. At a place called Imola, for instance, where he went to ask the bishop for the use of the church, the bishop replied, coldly and distantly:-- "My brother, I preach in my own parish; I am not in need of anyone to aid me in my task." Francis bowed, and went out. An hour later, he presented himself again. "What have you come for again?" asked the bishop, angrily. "What do you want?" "My lord," answered Francis, in his simple way, "when a father turns his son out of one door, the son has but one thing to do--to return by another." This holy boldness won the bishop's heart. "You are right," he said. "You and your brothers may preach in my diocese. I give you a general permission to do so. Your humility deserves nothing less!" Francis never considered himself at liberty to "shake the dust" of a city off his feet unless he had tried and tried again and again, to get a hearing there; indeed, nothing convinced him of the uselessness of his quest unless he were thrown out neck and crop, then it was more than likely he would gather himself up, and try another entrance! He entirely forgot himself in his love for his Master. His love of truth was with him almost a passion. Between his thoughts, and his words, and his actions there was a perfect agreement, neither one contradicted the other; he saw to it that it was so, knowing that nothing hurt the Gospel of Christ like insincerity or double dealing. Distractions in prayer he looked upon as secret lies, and saying with the lips what the heart did not go with. "How shameful," he used to say, "to allow oneself to fall into vain distractions when one is addressing the great King! We should not speak in that manner even to a respectable man!"