NAOMI.

"I HAVE never seen a Jew," said Florence Clifford; "I mean, I do not know that I have ever seen one."

There were some very clever men talking to Mrs. Vere, the aunt of Florence, about the Jews; and Florence left the book she had been reading still open, to listen to their conversation: it had lasted nearly an hour, but her finger was still upon the unfinished page. No one replied to her remark, if it were heard, and Florence continued nearly in the same position, thinking, after the gentlemen were gone. "Where are your thoughts wandering, my love?" said Mrs. Vere." I was thinking about the Jews, aunt." Florence dreamt about the Jews that night.

Some days after, it was told Florence that a

poor old woman, whose daughter sometimes assisted the servants of Mrs. Vere, was very ill. Florence went to see her. "Can I take this jelly to your mother?" said she to the daughter as she entered the house. "Oh yes, miss; there is only a young Jewish lady, who is very kind to mother, with her; I will shew you up to her room."-" You had better remain here to attend to any one who may come in; I will go up by myself." Florence was very shy, and she did not like to meet a perfect stranger; but she had never seen a Jew, and she determined to go up. "The first door you come to, ma'am," said the girl," is mother's room." Florence crept softly up the stairs, and was quite near the door of the chamber, when she heard a very sweet voice, speaking very soothingly. The door was open, and she stopped to gaze at the persons before her, and that she might not interrupt the sweet voice. She could not see the old woman's countenance, and only one of her thin white hands, which lay upon the rug that served as a coverlid. The curtains of the bed were of a dull dark green, which could be hardly distinguished; almost all the rest of the room was indistinct, for a rushlight alone illumined it, and that stood on a table close to the bed: the light seemed to have

gathered round the figure, who was kneeling beside the bed, and bending over towards the dying woman. Florence only perceived at first a very tall slight form in the whitest drapery, faintly shadowed out from the gloom; the candle flickered into a bright blaze, and the face, which had been turned away before, met her view; a complexion of soft clear brown, richly blended with the brightest rose colour; delicately formed lips, trembling and glowing with eloquence, even when silent; large dark melancholy eyes; and a high white forehead, parting from the highest centre of which a profusion of long dark hair fell in large shining rings. Naomi had ceased speaking, when she turned round, and opened a Bible which lay upon the table. Resting her head on her small snowy hand, she began to read in the Old Testament. Florence sat down on the stairs, and listened to her: she had chosen the thirty-fifth chapter of Isaiah. Florence gazed in motionless admiration on the countenance, whose eloquent expression varied with the eloquent tones of Naomi's voice, as she concluded the last verse:

"Wherefore the redeemed of the Lord shall return and come to Zion with songs, and everlasting joy shall be upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness; and sorrow and mourn

ing shall flee away."-The old woman rose up in the bed, and, clasping her hands, exclaimed, apparently forgetful of every thing but the subject which inspired her "Oh blessed God of Abraham, she is surely one of thy redeemed! Bring her back to Zion with praise, and let everlasting joy be with her." She ceased speaking, and, turning wistfully to the young Jewess, "O," she said, "if you would but," she stopped, and sunk down again. "But what?" inquired Naomi, "tell me what you wish; I am sure I would do it." "No, no, I should not have said it; I forgot you were here; I was praying for you, as I often do." "Tell me what I can do to please you?" "I was wishing that you would read to me the New Testament: I thought just then, if you would read in it, you would feel it true as I do, and believe that Christ has redeemed you." Naomi blushed deeply, and appeared very thoughtful. Florence felt for her, and she entered the room.

"Do not go away," she said, (for the young Jewess had tied on a large straw hat which lay on a chair near the bed). She seemed even more confused than Florence, who felt, after a few minutes, as if she had long known her. Naomi did not go away, but she sat down while Florence spoke to the poor woman.

"Where is Miss Montero?" said the latter: "I hope she is not gone." "I am here,” she replied, drawing aside the curtain which concealed her, and turning with a soft smile to the sick woman; "Oh ma'am, dear ma'am," she said, "I have thought more about what I said to you: I was ashamed. then, and I ought not to have been; for I am a dying woman, and must serve God as long as I can. Perhaps I should not speak about this before Miss Clifford; (Naomi looked at the open modest countenance of Florence, and she did not feel at all uncomfortable at her presence ;) "but who knows if I may ever see you again? I can't last many more hours. Oh, Miss, I'm sure you will not be angry at my speaking, when you know it will make me die happy; I should think God would never forgive me if I died without speaking. Your name puts me in mind of Naomi and Ruth. I think to myself that you are like Ruth; and, though there is no one here like Naomi, yet I fancy that you are coming to trust, not only to the Lord God of Israel, but to his blessed Son. I can't say much to convince you, but I only wish you to read the New Testament, with the rest of the Bible; I know that they have made me believe, and I was once very wicked, and knew nothing of religion, not so much as a