I know a mother who lives down in the southern part of Indiana. Some years ago her boy came up to Chicago. He hadn't been in the city long before he was led astray. A neighbor happened to come up to Chicago, and found him one night in the streets drunk. When that neighbor went home, at first he thought he wouldn't say anything about it to the boy's father, but afterwards he thought it his duty to tell him. So in a crowd in the street of their little town he just took the father aside, and told him what he had seen in Chicago. It was a terrible blow. When the children had been put to bed that night he said to his wife, "Wife, I have bad news. I have heard from Chicago to-day." The mother dropped her work in an instant and said, "Tell me what it is." "Well, our son has been seen on the streets of Chicago drunk." Neither of them slept that night, but they took their burden to Christ, and about daylight the mother said, "I don't know how, when or where, but God has given me faith to believe that our son will be saved and will never come to a drunkard's grave. One week after, that boy left Chicago. He couldn't tell why; an unseen power seemed to lead him to his mother's home, and the first thing he said on coming over the threshold was, "Mother, I have come home to ask you to pray for me." And soon after he came back to Chicago a bright and shining light.