THE LITTLE MISSIONARY.
But I will tell you what they had in Syria—they had one of God’s children there, and she was a little girl, a simple captive maid. Naaman knew nothing about her, though she was one of his household. He knew nothing about this little Israelite. I can imagine her one day as she said to Mrs. Naaman, her mistress, that there was a prophet in her country that could cure her master of his leprosy. “Would to God,” the maid said, “my lord were with the prophet in Samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy.” There’s faith for you! “Why,” says the mistress, “what are you talking about? Did you ever hear of anybody being cured of leprosy?” “Ah,” said the little girl, “it is true, I can assure you; we have got physicians down there that can cure any one.”
So at last some one told the king about what the little maid of Israel had said. Now, Naaman stood high in the king’s favour, for he had recently won a great victory. He was called a lord, perhaps he was a prince, a sort of Syrian Prince Bismarck, who stood near the throne. So the king said, “You had better go down to Samaria, and see if there is anything in it, and I will give you letters of introduction to the king of Israel.”