sentatives of the three Orders are climbing the hill, with a gracious welcome. On the right, a novice is baptised by angel's hands, and the penitent is defended by warrior maidens; while Repentance, armed with a scourge, drives out carnal Desire, and Death hurls the naked form of Passion into hell-flames. In the third compartment we have the Marriage of St. Francis with Holy Poverty, the bride of his choice, that memorable scene which, originally described by Bonaventura and the Franciscan poet Jacopone, has been celebrated in a famous passage of Dante's Paradiso. Giotto himself was no religious enthusiast, and his shrewd worldly sense and genial humour led him to look with little sympathy upon the voluntary poverty which Francis held to be the crown of all virtues. But in this beautiful fresco he has entered fully into the spirit of glowing devotion which animated the Saint, and has left us a representation of the subject worthy to rank with Dante's immortal lines. The wedding takes place in the courts of Heaven, Love and Hope are the bridesmaids, Christ Himself the priest who speaks the nuptial blessing. The bride's robe is torn and ragged, the boys throw stones and the little dogs bark at her, but the thorns that tear her bare feet, blossom into roses about her brow, and the face of Francis beams with love and rapture, as he places the ring upon her finger. In the foreground we have practical illustrations of the parable. On the left, an angel smiles approval on a young man in the act of giving his cloak to a beggar; on the right, another richly-clad youth with a falcon on his wrist turns scornfully away, and a miser clutches his bags of gold more tightly between his hands. In the air
