might share in its destruction; and yet her purpose was unshaken. Her mother was in declining health, and could she leave her? The light of heaven was breaking upon her mother's soul through her means, and could she abandon her? No; she resolved that she would not even mention the proposal of Marcellus to her parents, lest anxiety for her removal from the city should induce them to urge her acceptance of it. She therefore concealed the letter, and opened the other which accompanied it, and which she found to be from her poor friend Claudia, who had sent it to her brother, in the hope that he would find some means of conveying it to Naomi. She did not anticipate that he would run so great a risk as to approach the walls of Jerusalem himself in order to convey the letter, of she would never have given him such a commission. But Marcellus had been too eager to make known to Naomi his plans for her preservation, and to obtain her immediate concurrence, for any thoughts of peril to deter him from the enterprise; and unknown to his commanding officer, he had ventured to the gate, and escaped unharmed. The letter of Claudia was nearly to the following effect:-- "My beloved Naomi will believe with what satisfaction I avail myself of an occasion to write to her: and she will I know be equally pleased to receive tidings of those who love her dearly. A friend of Amaziah's is about to return to Judea, and will take charge of my letters, and convey them to the Roman camp, from whence doubtless Marcellus will be able to forward this scroll to you. Oh that I could myself be the bearer of the intelligence which it will contain! Dear Naomi, my heart is buried at Jerusalem, and I feel myself a sad exile while I dwell so far from all those scenes that are consecrated to my memory. There have I passed all the happy days of my eventful life. There was I blessed with the affection of my martyred Theophilus; and there did I hear from him of all the things pertaining to salvation. There too I enjoyed your society and friendship, and could strive to imitate, however humbly, the piety and virtue and courage that made me love the religion that you professed. Can I avoid looking back with sorrow and regret to the days that are gone, and wishing that I had been permitted to tarry with you, and share your dangers? My life is now of little value, for all that made life precious is taken away from me; and it would have been a joy to me, if the Lord had suffered me to end my days within the gates of Zion, where he who would have been the happiness of my life was so cruelly torn from me and murdered: but it is wrong, and very ungrateful in me, to speak thus. Bear with my sorrow, dearest Naomi, while for the first time I am enabled to give utterance to all I feel; and do not think that I repine against the dispensations of my God and Father, though I am bowed down beneath the weight of his chastening hand. No; I am enabled to bless that