Jason has just stepped over the threshold into the glory of a rich young
manhood. And he is careful to select for his expedition some of the
choicest heroes of Greece--young, brave, and strong. It has ever been
thus. Youth has always been synonymous with adventure. It is a condition
which seems inherent; nature instilling into the blood of her sons the
very spirit of discontent--of longing to push out from the commonplace
scenes of childhood into broader domains of experience.

The very books which most fascinate the boy are those which deal in
thrilling tales of adventure. The wily and unscrupulous traffickers in
cheap literature have ever been awake to this fact, and their
highly-colored productions have been flung from the vicious presses like
lava from Pelee to pollute the minds of the young. Why is it that
"Robinson Crusoe" and stories of this character hold such a charm for
young people, lingering in their minds long after books of a profounder
type have been forgotten? It is the love of adventure. To what boy at
school does not the doleful history lesson assume a more brilliant aspect
when the adventures of Columbus are taken up? His interest is awakened,
his imagination inspired, and he is delighted, all because again that
chord in his nature has been struck--the love of adventure.

Perhaps no other single painting in the art galleries at the World's Fair
of 1893 attracted the attention of a greater number of people, nor
awakened in so many human breasts a feeling of such intense pathos as
Thomas Hovenden's painting on "Breaking Home Ties." Here we have it once
more, adventure--Jason setting off on his journey in search for the golden
fleece of fame and fortune. The narrow path that so long has led him out
into the silent acres--the fields that so many years have responded to
his toil--he has forsaken. The dull routine has ceased to inspire, the