Angeli, situated on a plain at the foot of the hill on which sits
Assisi. This immense church contains the Portiuncula,--that little
chapel so dear to St. Francis, in which he founded the Franciscan order
of monks, and in which he died,--and is a veritable Mecca, to which
pilgrimages are made from all parts of the Roman Catholic world.

They spent some time here in visiting the different spots of interest
within the church; in going out to see the tiny garden, where grow the
thornless rose-bushes with blood-stained leaves, according to the old
tradition, at which they were permitted to look through glass; and in
listening to the rambling talk of a transparent-faced old monk in brown,
Franciscan garb, who waxed more and more daring as he watched the
interested faces of the party, until his tales of the patron saint grew
so impossible that even poor Bettina's faith was sorely tried, and
Malcom stole furtive glances at her to see how she bore it all.

At length they were free, and went on up the hill to the city. They
stopped at a little hotel whose balcony commanded a magnificent view of
the country, lingered a while, lunched, and then went out to visit the
great double church of San Francesco, beneath which the saint is buried,
and where are notable frescoes by Cimabue and Giotto.

When all was over, and they were taking their carriages for Perugia, Mr.
Sumner said to his sister: "If you do not mind, I will drive in the
other carriage," and so took his seat with Barbara, Bettina, and Malcom.
All felt a little tired and were silent for a time, each busy with his
own thoughts. Finally Barbara asked, in a thoughtful tone:--

"Did you notice the names on the leaves of the travellers' book at the
hotel? I glanced over the opposite page as I wrote mine, and among the