Walking out one day, dressed in a handsome new suit, he met a poor and ill-clad soldier; moved to pity, he exchanged his fine clothes for the rags of the stranger.  That night Francis dreamed of a splendid castle, with gorgeous banners flying from its ramparts, and suits of armor adorned with the cross.  “These,” said a voice, “are for you and for your soldiers.”  We are told that this was intended to be taken spiritually and was prophetic of the Begging Friars, but Francis misunderstood the dream, taking it as a token of military achievements.  The next day he set off mounted on a fine horse, saying as he left, “I shall be a great prince.”  But his weak frame could not endure such rough usage and he was taken sick at Spoleto.  Again he dreamed.  This time the vision revealed his misinterpretation of the former message, and so, on his recovery, he returned somewhat crestfallen to Assisi, where he gave his friends a farewell feast.  Thus at the threshold of his career we note two important facts,—­disease and dreams.  All through his life he had these fits of sickness, attended by dreams; and throughout his life he was guided by these visions.  Neander remarks:  “It would be a matter of some importance if we could be more exactly informed with regard to the nature of his disease and the way in which it affected his physical and mental constitution.  Perhaps it might assist us to a more satisfactory explanation of the eccentric vein in his life, that singular mixture of religious enthusiasm bordering insanity; but we are left wholly in the dark.”

Francis now devoted himself to his father’s business, but dreams and visions continued to distress him.  His spiritual fervor increased daily.  He grieved for the poor and gave himself to the care of the sick, especially the lepers.  During a visit to Rome he became so sad at the sight of desperate poverty that he impetuously flung his bag of gold upon the altar with such force as to startle the worshipers.  He went out from the church, exchanged his clothes for a beggar’s rags, and stood for hours asking alms among a crowd of filthy beggars.

But though Francis longed to associate himself in some way with the lowest classes, he could obtain no certain light upon his duty.  While prostrated before the crucifix, in the dilapidated church of St. Damian, in Assisi, he heard a voice saying, “Francis, seest thou not that my house is in ruins?  Go and restore it for me.”  Again it is said that this pointed to his great life-work of restoring spiritual power to the church, but he again accepted the message in a literal sense.  Delighted to receive a command so specific, the kneeling Francis fervently responded, “With good will, Lord,” and gladly entered upon the task of repairing the church of St. Damian.  “Having fortified himself by the sign of the cross,” he took a horse and a valuable bundle of goods belonging to his father and sold both at Falingo.  Instead of turning the proceeds over to his father, Francis offered