In ancient days, there lived in Damascus, a city of Syria, a youth whose name was Myron. His father, who was very rich, died suddenly, leaving him a vast estate. He had a great deal of money, and a beautiful house, to which a fine garden was attached. One day he was walking in this garden, and the air being warm and pleasant, he sat down by a fountain, sheltered from the sun by the overhanging branches of the cedar trees. The scene was tranquil and soothing, and such was its effect upon Myron, that he fell into a dream or reverie, in which the following events seemed actually to come to pass. He fancied that he was walking in one of the paths of the garden, thinking upon the death of his father, and the situation in which he was now placed. His mother had been dead for some years: he was therefore an orphan, and must depend upon himself to mark out his course of conduct. His wealth, indeed, brought around him a host of friends, real or pretended--but could he confide in them? Some of them spoke smooth words to him, and flattered him, and made themselves very agreeable; while others were less pleasing, but apparently more sincere. But which, of all these persons, could he confide in? This question often occurred to him, and he felt anxious to decide and act according to the dictates of wisdom. While he was thinking on this subject, the scene changed, and he appeared to be on a journey alone, and travelling a road which was new and strange to him. The path before him seemed plain enough for a time, but soon it became less defined, and several other roads branched off to the right and left. He, however, proceeded--but at length the road entered a forest, which grew deeper as he advanced, while the track became more obscure. At last he came to a point where he was entirely in doubt as to the road he was to take; and this doubt was mingled with anxiety, for night was now at hand, and a thunder-storm was approaching. Already the ruddy lightning was flashing among the dark shadows of the pines, and the thunder was growling over the distant hills. While the youth was looking anxiously around for some one to be his guide in this dilemma, he was surprised as well as pleased to see a comely youth approaching him. Scarcely had he greeted the young stranger, when an aged and reverend man also joined the party. Myron looked at them both attentively, for their appearance was remarkable; beside, he was now in a situation to need counsel and direction, and he wished, if possible, to learn from the aspect of these persons, which he might most safely trust. He was, however, unable to decide between them, and at last he spoke to them as follows: “I am travelling, my friends, to a distant city, and having lost my way, I beg you to tell me which road I am to follow.”