One is born a Capuchin there as elsewhere one is born a soldier, and the traveller needs to have his wits about him not to address every man he meets as Reverend Father.
Francis had often gone over this district in every direction.

Like its neighbor, the hilly March of Ancona, it was peculiarly prepared to receive the new gospel.

In these hermitages, with their almost impossible simplicity, perched near the villages on every side, without the least care for material comfort, but always where there is the widest possible view, was perpetuated a race of Brothers Minor, impassioned, proud, stubborn, almost wild, who did not wholly understand their master, who did not catch his exquisite simplicity, his impossibility of hating, his dreams of social and political renovation, his poetry and delicacy, but who did understand the lover of nature and of poverty.[1] They did more than understand him; they lived his life, and from that Christmas festival observed in the woods of Greccio down to to-day they have remained the simple and popular representatives of the Strict Observance.

From them comes to us the Legend of the Three Companions, the most life-like and true of all the portraits of the Poverello, and it was there, in a cell three paces long, that Giovanni di Parma had his apocalyptic visions.
The news of Francis's arrival quickly spread, and long before he reached Rieti the population had come out to meet him.
To avoid this noisy welcome he craved the hospitality of the priest of St.Fabian.This little church, now known under the name of Our Lady of the Forest, is somewhat aside from the road upon a grassy mound about a league from the city.

He was heartily welcomed, and desiring to remain there for a little, prelates and devotees began to flock thither in the next few days.
It was the time of the early grapes.