"Will you tell me," she timidly began, for she almost feared to intrude on the feelings of the venerable stranger,--"will you tell me wherefore you are in grief, good mother? It pains me to see you weep, and I should be so happy if it was in my power to wipe away those tears." "Bless thee, my child," replied the old woman, with emotion, "these are the kindest words that I have heard addressed to me for many years. I am a solitary being now. All those who loved me best are long ago laid in the grave, and the friends whom I have found in later years have almost all retired to distant and more secure countries. But it was not for this that I wept; my tears were not those of sorrow for my own condition, which I would not change with the happiest and wealthiest in that city; but I wept for those who now dwell there in fancied security, and heed not the ruin that is coming upon them." "What ruin?" said Naomi; "are you one of those who dread the Roman power, and think that we shall be given into their hands? My mother sometimes gives way to such fears, but it vexes my soul to hear her; for till I see the Gentiles trampling on our holy places I will never believe that they will again be permitted to enter the sacred walls of Jerusalem as conquerors. I should rejoice to hear of the near approach of the Gentile army; for, when all nations are gathered against Jerusalem to battle, then shall the Lord go forth against those nations, as when he fought in the day of battle.[1] His feet shall stand in that day upon the Mount of Olives, as our prophet Zechariah has testified; and oh! that I may live to see that glorious day, when Messiah shall at length come upon the earth!" [1] Zechariah xiv. 2-4. "Messiah is already come," said the stranger, gently and solemnly. Naomi started, and turned to gaze on the countenance of the speaker. "What!" she exclaimed, in accents of horror, "are you a Nazarene? Are you a believer in that Galilean impostor, who suffered the just recompense of his seditions and deceptions?" "I am a humble follower of the Holy Jesus, the Son of the Most High God, _who suffered for our transgressions, and rose again for our justification_," replied the stranger. Naomi shrunk back, and dropped the arm of the aged Christian, as if she felt the touch of one who professed that detested creed to be pollution, and words of scorn and contempt rose to her lips. But her better feelings repressed these expressions; and a sentiment which she could not comprehend drew her again to the gentle and venerable woman, whom in her prejudiced judgment she despised. Again she offered her support to the stranger, and again it was accepted with grateful courtesy, while a benevolent smile lighted up her naturally serious countenance, as she observed the struggle in her young companion's feelings.