ourse
they were. All children are alike. They know no barriers of kindred,
of class or of religion. A child is the true democrat. Sad to say, we
soon train him out of this. But he is a thorough democrat by nature.
He plays as gladly with the son of a scrub woman as with the son of a
queen. He lavishes his love as freely upon a pickaninny as upon a
prince. So these Jewish boys were playing with the heathen children.

Then a few years went by and the pious father and mother came to
realize with horror that their two boys were actually in love with two
Moabitish girls. Not only did they love them, but they even wanted to
marry them. This was a calamity indeed. I can hear the protests of
the father and mother. They warn them of the danger of such marriages.
They plead the law of Moses. But all in vain. And we are not
surprised. You might as well get in front of Niagara Falls and say
"Boo!" and expect it to flow back the other way, as to try to reason
with the average young fellow who is in love. Both boys married
Moabitish women.

And then what did this wise and godly father and mother do? They did
not do what is so usual in cases of an unwelcome marriage. Our boy or
our girl makes what seems to us a foolish and ruinous marriage. Then
what do we do? We declare that we will never speak to them again, that
they shall never darken our doors. And we thereby help on a disaster
that might never have come. Naomi and her husband had better sense.
They took the wives of their two sons, heathens though they were, into
their home and into their hearts. They felt sure that that was the one
way that promised a remedy.

Then one day disaster came to the little home of the strangers. The
husband and father died, and Naomi was left with the whole
responsibility of the family upon her lone shoulders. Her
daughters-in-law had seen her in her joy. They marked her also in her
sorrow. They were impressed, no doubt, by her calmness and her
strength. She walked with the sure and quiet step of one who felt
underneath her and round about her the Everlasting Arm.

Then the final disaster came. Both the boys died. Naomi was not only
a widow, but she was childless. There were now no bonds that held her
longer from the land of her fathers. She decides, therefore, to
return. Her two daughters-in-law are to accompany her as far as the
border of Moab. There they are to bid her farewell and then go each
her own way. T