of interest binding them together, and always beyond
was the great wide open world, with the white light
shining in the sky, the blue thread of the river, and
the single trees pointing upwards--dark, solemn
cypress, or feathery larch or poplar.

There was much for the young painter still to
learn, and perhaps he learned most from the silent
teaching of that little dark chapel of the Carmine,
where Masaccio taught more wonderful lessons by
his frescoes than any living artist could teach.

Then came the crowning honour when Perugino
received an invitation from the Pope to go to Rome
and paint the walls of the Sistine Chapel. Hence
forth it was a different kind of life for the young
painter. No need to wonder where he would get
his next meal, no hard rough wooden chest on which
to rest his weary limbs when the day's work was
done. Now he was royally entertained and softly
lodged, and men counted it an honour to be in his
company.

But though he loved Florence and was proud to
do his painting in Rome, his heart ever drew him
back to the city on the hill whose name he bore.

Again he travelled along the winding road, and
his heart beat fast as he drew nearer and saw the
familiar towers and roofs of Perugia. How well he