ken away, and so it went on back and
forth, year after year. When our story begins, Naaman, a great general,
had delivered his country from Israel, and brought home with him a
little Hebrew girl, who was so beautiful and sweet in her ways that he
gave her to his wife on his return from the war. A strange present, you
say, but it proved a very valuable one. It seems to us very cruel. One
would think that if Naaman and his wife loved this little girl--and I am
sure they did--they would have sent her back to her home, for she must
have had a heartbreaking time of it at first; but people were not kind
in that way in those days. Yes, I am sure they loved her and were kind
to her, for the simple reason that she evidently loved them; and I am
also sure that the reason they loved her was that they could not help
it, as we shall see further on.

Not long after the war, Naaman was attacked with a disease so dreadful
and repulsive that I cannot describe it to you. Let us be thankful that
leprosy is unknown here. It is not only incurable, but as it goes on it
becomes so terrible that one cannot stay at home with his family, but
must go out and live alone, or with other lepers, and wait for death,
which often does not happen for years. It was a sad time for the great
Naaman when he discovered that it had seized him. He felt well and
strong, but the fearful signs made it sure. It was a sadder time when he
told his wife; for both knew that the day would soon come when they
could no longer stay together at home, and that he must leave beautiful
Damascus, and give up his place in the army, and go off into the
mountains and live alone, or with others like himself. The saddest
feature of all was that there was no hope: all this was sure to take
place. If you have ever been in a house where some one is very ill and
likely to die, or some terrible accident has occurred, you have felt
what a gloom overhangs it, and have been glad to escape from it and get
out under the open sky. But our little Hebrew girl could not escape. She
must stay through it all, and wait on Naaman's wife, and see her weep
and Naaman's strong face grow sadder every day. Now I think we shall
begin to see what a rare, noble, sweet child this was that we are
talking about. What a pity that we do not know her name--for she is a
nameless child! I would like to call her Anna if I had any right to
leave off the _H_ that the Hebrews put before and after this beautiful
name. An