reminding one of a Mater Dolorosa as with bitter tears she assisted at her daughter's deep humiliation. Just as this sad little group neared the Portiuncula the girl stopped as though her strength were exhausted, when the mother, choked by sobs, lifted the heavy masses of her daughter's hair and tried to raise her from the ground. The pilgrims pressed round singing "Evviva Maria e Chi la creò" until the sound became deafening, while the men struck the ground almost angrily with their sticks, and at last the girl still licking the ground crawled forward once again. When she reached the altar of the Portiuncula she stretched out one hand and touched the iron gates, and then like a worm rearing itself in the air and turning from side to side, she dragged herself on to her knees. As consciousness returned and the Southern blood coursed again like fire through her veins, she started to her feet and with wild cries entreated San Francesco to hear her, beating the gates with her hands and swaying from side to side. The cry of a wounded animal might recall to one's memory the prayer of that young girl, storming heaven with notes of passionate entreaty wrung from a soul in great mental agony. Other penitents came up to take her place almost pushing her out of the chapel. We last saw her fast asleep on the steps of a side altar curled up like a tired dog, but on her face was an expression of great calm as though she had indeed found the peace sought in so repulsive and terrible a manner. Silently we left the church and turned towards Assisi, breathing with joy the pure air and looking long at the hills lying so calm and clear around us. Next day, the 31st of July, there was an excited feeling in the town, not among the Umbrians, for they take the annual feast of the "Perdono" quietly enough, but among the pilgrims, who having now arrived in hundreds and paid their first visit to the franciscan churches of the hill and of the plain, stood about in the lower piazza of San Francesco waiting with evident impatience for the opening of the feast of the afternoon. We caught their feeling of expectation and found it impossible to do aught else than watch the people from the balcony, and then we went down and wandered about among them. There were such tired groups of women under the _loggie_ of the piazza, leaning back in the shadow of the arches with their shawls drawn across their faces to shut out the glare of the August sun. A crowd of girls rested on the little patch of grass near the church, some eating their bread, others sleepily watching the constant passage of people in and out of the church; for long spaces they sat silent, listlessly waiting, then suddenly one among them would rise and sing a southern song, sounding so strange in Umbria. Her companions, casting off the desire to sleep, joined in the chorus until the song was ended and they once more became silent watchers. The shadows began to deepen