We sympathize, Naomi, in thy sufferings. But remember, the Almighty gave, and he may take away, and ’tis our duty to submit in silence, to adore his justice, and to praise his name, in deep affliction, as in days of bliss. But, come my friends; thou art weary of thy journey; come, rest thyself beneath our welcome roof, and thou shalt find a friend who yet can love thee. NAOMI. How sweet is kindness to a bleeding heart, torn by sharp sorrow; and unfeeling insult. Already have I met, even here, in Bethlem, with taunts from those I once esteemed most highly; but thou I find art still the same dear friend, and shrinkst not back at fortune’s withering touch. FIRST LADY. Accursed be those who fail in time of need; and they are accursed by their own stubborn hearts; too hard to feel the force of generous friendship; of wiping tears from eyes o’ercharged with grief and lighting smiles upon the grief worn cheek. Come; I will lead thee to my dearest parents, whose joys, like mine will brighten at thy presence. NAOMI. With gratitude I follow thy request, and see my daughter—the generous wife of my lamented Mahlon—has left her friends, her country and her Gods, to cheer her mother, and to share her fate. Let her, I pray thee, with me partake thy bounty. FIRST LADY. Most willingly. I honor virtue, and am proud to meet her in a kindred form. Come, come with me, and once more taste repose. NAOMI: RUTH: NAOMI. This is the place! O well known scenes! dear monitors of bliss forever fled! That field, rich with luxuriant harvest;—that beautious dwelling, now like myself in ruins; where curling vines in purple clusters twine, around its fallen columns, was once my own; my father’s once—A stranger now inherits it. [Illustration: PL. XVII.—ELIZABETH HUNTINGTON WOLCOTT, PUPIL, 1820 ]