be satisfied; but the terrible thought that he might be still alive, sick, dying of hunger and cold, alone, with no kind hand to soothe his last moments, or to listen to his little sad story of his being lost, and how he had wandered so far away from his home to die alone in the woods, was greater than she could endure. Brave men wept who never shed a tear before. It moved them to activity. It was proposed that one more effort should be made at once, although night was near at hand. They formed into companies, each taking separate directions. Signals were agreed upon, and quickly they disappeared into the woods. A few remained to console the mother. In breathless silence they stood around the door, hoping to hear a signal. At last the echo of a distant gun away down by the lake reverberated up through the woods. It was a relief. A trace, a shoe or hat, or his bones, perhaps, have been found. Anxiously they listen, hoping against hope, to hear another signal. It comes, he is found! "Is he alive or dead?" In breathless silence all were eager to hear. Hearts almost ceased to beat, so great was the intense. anxiety, fearing they might not hear the last signal. It came"Jacob is alive!" The great old woods rëechoed the gladsome refrain: "Jacob is alive!" "Is alive!" "Alive!" reverberated through the valleys and over the hill-tops. Companies far away caught the echoes as one company after another passed the gladsome tidings along: "Jacob is found." The old woods rang as never before, from five hundred voices in glad shouts of joy. Gun after gun answered other guns in carrying the news to the most distant. The victorious party soon came in sight, bearing triumphantly the little hero on their shoulders, seated on a hastily constructed "chair" made of poles and evergreen boughs, and presented him alive and well to the overjoyed mother. There was joy in that home that night.

MUST HAVE A GUIDE.

People unaccustomed to travel in our country when they are about to start on their first journey, procure the latest guide-book and consult it carefully before starting, and then take it along with them so as to be sure that they do not make any mistakes, or get on a wrong train, to be carried in a wrong direction. We have seen persons almost frantic for fear that they would make a mistake. Every time the train stopped they would hop up and ask the conductor, or brakeman, or the passengers, "Is this Albany?"

66

Now a journey of a few days is nothing in comparison to a journey for life. Yet how heedless and unconcerned many young men are about it. They don't care." When they start out on that track they are on a down grade, and every turn increases their momentum, faster and faster. Like the engineer who neglected to apply the brakes in time, he lost control of his train, and all went to destruction. We see young men with noble talents, going from homes where everything has been done that could be done for them, to fit them for honorable positions in society, unheeding the pleadings of a kind father, the tears of a devoted and anxious mother and a loving sister, all to no purpose. They are on the down grade, and all the signals and alarm bells are warning them of the fearful risks they are running, and the impending dangers just ahead. Blind and deaf to them all, they rush on in their mad career to swift destruction. Many a father would give all he is worth, thousands of dollars even; yea, a hundred thousand dollars if he had it, if his son would only come back to the home he has left. Many a father has bowed his head in shame over the downward course of a wayward son, and gone down to the grave before his time in the deepest grief. Some have had the sad experience of standing over the grave of a son as a gentleman did in France. Read what he said as he stood at the grave of his profligate son:

"Gentlemen," said the father, in a voice full of emotion, "the body before me was that of my son. He was a young man in the prime of life, with a sound constitution, which ought to have insured him a hundred years. But misconduct, drunkenness, and debauchery, of the most disgraceful kind, brought him in the flower of his age to the ditch which you see before you. Let this be an example to you and to your children. Let us go hence."

We have said what we have in our PRELUDE, with the hope of arresting the attention of every young man into whose hands this little book shall fall, and that it may be a True Guide to him every day as long as he shall live, a guide to the only pathway to prosperity and happiness-to heaven.

THE MISSING HOST.

66 MISSING, MY SON!"- -"TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD.'

There have been hundreds, thousands of boys lost since “Jacob's” time. Yes, and only a few have ever been found. Boys and young men are being lost every day in the year, and every year “Missing! my son!" could be posted on every street corner in every town and every city in the land. No five hundred men to look up each lost boy. Very few are ever found—many have wandered far away, become wrecks, and have no desire to be found, or when found to be carried back to their father's house. What an army it would make if all the lost and "missing" young men were placed in a line; no division of Gen. Grant's army would have equaled it in length.

Many young men leave their homes so confident in all their childish innocence. Ignorant of the great outside world, so different from the little country home where they know every man, woman and child; where they perhaps conceived the world swung around their homes, and that was the centre.

The story of our Prelude is a true one, and our object in giving it a place in this book is for an illustration, to make clear and strong, so that no young man shall mistake, our aim, or his way.

Boys who run away from home, we do not expect to reach; but we hope to gain the ear of many who go away, because they must go if they are to accomplish any good in the world for themselves or anybody else; and also those who are compelled by necessity to "strike out." It is a momentous period in any young man's life, when the time comes to bid adieu to his home, to go out to seek his fortune, to be his own pilot; to hew out his own fortune. It is a trackless pathway to him, and every step is new. Only one step of the way can be seen-only one at a time. The curtain reveals no faster and no more. No two steps are alike; each day the scenes are shifted. If you make a mistake you cannot correct it, or rub it out and commence anew. The chariot wheels of your car are running at the velocity of seventy miles (heart beats) to the minute, day and night; and there is only one stopping place-that comes when the little engine within you stops pumping life's crimson blood

through your veins. So that every mistake you make is so much time lost that cannot be made up-no calling back lost time. The web of life runs right on, and if you fail to weave in the woof as it passes, it will not be filled. "O, weave it well." We have seen so many unfortunate young men ; so many who have made sad failures, that we have wished that we had a trumpet through which we could sound the notes of alarm in the ears of every young man in the country, before they start out from home. Little do they know of the dangers that will assail them on the first day they shall commence to act for themselves. They little know of the hungry wolves in sheep's clothing ready to pounce on them at the first opportunity.

THE NEW HAMPSHIRE BOY.

A young man left his home in New Hampshire for Boston. It was his first ride on a railroad. You would have known him from all the other passengers, by the way he sat on his seat, by the way he looked at everybody, and at everything in the car or outside. We can tell a new passenger on his first ride on the cars every time, without his speaking a word. At the depot at Boston there were a score just waiting for him. They knew he was on that train. Only one was in time to welcome him, one was enough. How glad he was to see him. He grasped his hand with all the cordiality of "my long lost brother." He took his satchel to carry. Would go with him any where he wanted to go; and find him a boarding house. Or if he preferred, would show him right up to a tip-top house where "I stop." Of course he was glad to go right there. Such a warm hearty reception was what he had not expected. He was just waiting for a chance to declare his gratitude for all this attention. He had to exclaim several times, "How lucky I am to have met you right at the depot." "I felt a little timid about coming down alone where all were strangers." "First time in my life I was ever so far from home." "Father told me to be careful who

I went with." "I suppose there are some men that would steal a fellow's pocket book if they could get a chance." "I am so glad I met you right there."

The trap was not set for naught. The "bait" took.

tim. Would he like to see the sights of a great city?

He is a vic

"I don't care

if I do." After supper they saunter out; the nice young man takes

the arm of the country youth. They stop in front of one of the gilded palaces. It is brilliantly lighted; the doors, with rich stained glass panels, hang on compound hinges, that swing both ways, in or out. Strains of music float out on the evening air. “Would he like to step in ?" "Do they let a feller in there who does not have no ticket?" "O, yes; those who are acquainted are allowed to take ́in a friend if he looks pretty well." (Flattery.) "I don't care if I do go in."

The door swings in for them. The splendor of the costly chandeliers, with thousands of glass pendants flashing a million rainbows. The great mirrors-all the walls are mirrors-multiplying the guests many fold to his eyes. 'I wonder!" is the extent of his expletives. He is simply bewildered. He is invited to take a seat. He sits down on a richly stuffed chair, which yields so readily to his weight that he is frightened. He is assured no harm is done, “they are made that way." Would he not take a glass of lemonade? "I pay for it; you are my guest. It is a custom with me to always treat a stranger on his first visit to our city."

Soon a young man approaches and announces that "the drawing of the grand prize of $50,000 is to come off in a few minutes; if you wish to see it, gentlemen, please walk up stairs; it is free." “Would you like to see the drawing? $50,000 is a big pile." "I don't care if I do."

Up stairs a large hall magnificently fitted up, astonishes the country lad beyond language to express. The ticket office is open for the next grand drawing. Here are tables at which are seated men playing cards for money, and various other devices. They watch the game and see how fast money changes hands. A rough looking fellow tries his hand. He just sweeps the board every time. The pilot begins to warm up, and proposes to try his hand at the game. He puts his hand in his pocket to draw his money. "I declare if I have not left my pocket book at the hotel, in my trunk. I just want to try my hand with these fellows once. If I can't scoop them I am greatly mistaken. By the way, if you have a little money, fifty or one hundred dollars, I would like to borrow it until we get back to the hotel. If you have no objection, I will give you half the profits.” "Of course I will. Let you have all I have got." He hands over seventy-five dollars, with the remark, "That is the first money I ever earned. I would let you have more if I had it. It took twenty-five