It is not time as yet to write his eulogy. We are too near the massive proportions of a great life to give a proper estimate of its greatness. It will be necessary to stand off from it at some distance in order to get the proper perspective. Still there are, however, some things that have impressed the world, and from these we cannot get away. During these days of his mortal sickness, when the struggle with the grim monster became the keenest, Leo never is anything but the Christian gentleman. Men of dominating minds and inflexible wills, especially if they have been accustomed to rule, are sometimes thoughtless of others who are about them. They have been so accustomed to brush away obstacles that the directness and force of their determination seem to know no fear or favor in dealing with things that surround them. Leo never forgets the chivalry of Christian gentleness. When the cardinals come in to see him, though he is as near prostrate in body as he may be, still he rises from his bed to meet them, and asks them to be seated. When Dr. Lapponi asks to be relieved for a short while to visit the sick bed of his daughter, Leo apologizes for the trouble he is giving to every one around him, and says that they have all become martyrs for his sake. When one of the Vatican pigeons lights on his window-sill and gently taps at the window, he awakes out of his weakness and asks that the window be raised and the bird admitted, and he feeds the pigeon as it lights on his bed, gently stroking its feathers. When every one is anticipating his speedy dissolution, he rises from his bed, goes over to his writing desk, and puts into poetry some beautiful thought that fills his mind. And in the midst of all his suffering he is full of devotion. He prays incessantly to the Mother of God. St. Leo's day comes, and ever since his childhood he has not failed to be present at Holy Mass on that day particularly; he directs that Mass be said in the adjoining room, and he devoutly follows it. He was a member of the Third Order of Franciscans, and in order to receive all the wonderful privileges that are granted to the faithful who are identified with that Third Order, he sends for the Capuchin cardinal to give him the last blessing. His faith is strong and tender. In the visions that pass before his mind the joys of paradise are vividly depicted. He would stay to give his last breath for the Church, but the alluring vision of heaven beckons him away. And in the midst of it all nothing can quench his unconquerable desire for work. There are some things that are unfinished; he calls Cardinal Rampolla and directs their execution. The Biblical Commission is very close to his heart, and he gives an admonition to his secretary that its work be prosecuted to a speedy end. These and many other little touches of character coming from the death chamber do not fail to paint the portrait of one of the greatest Popes the world has ever known.