“Well, I drove over along Bunker Street, among the sheeneys, and commenced calling ‘po-ta-toes.’ Nobody much seemed to buy. A few people came out and picked ‘em all over and tried to jew me down, and mebbe bought half a peck. I don’t know how they thought I could make any money that way. Still the people was all poor; most of ‘em worked in the sweat-shops and hadn’t any money to waste on luxuries. I worked down Maxwell Street and things didn’t get much better. It seemed as if everybody was out there sellin’ potatoes, and it was awful cold, and I hadn’t any coat on, and the horse was shiverin’ every time we stopped. Of coarse I always put the blanket on him if we stayed long, but the blanket was pretty old and patched. Then I drove down south, where the people lives that work in the stock yards. It went some better down there but not very much; anyhow I didn’t get any warmer. Along toward noon I hitched the horse under a shed and gave him a few oats and I went into the saloon and bought a glass of whiskey and took four or five of them long red-hots that they keep on the counter. They tasted pretty good and I never stopped to think what they was made of; whether they was beef, or pork, or horse, or what, though you know everybody always says they work in all the old horses that don’t go to the renderin’-plant and some that does, but they was good enough for me and was hot, and when I went away I felt better and I guess the old horse did, too. Well, I drove on down around the streets and did the best I could. I remember one place where an old lady came out and said she hadn’t had anything to eat since yesterday and there wa’n’t nothin’ in the house, and I up and gave her half a peck, though I couldn’t hardly afford to do it. You know that half a peck was more to me than it is to Rockefeller when he gives a million to the school, but my lawyer wouldn’t let me prove it when I tried; he said the judge would only laugh if he ever mentioned it. The newspapers never printed a word about it either, although I kind of thought it might lighten up the people’s feelin’ some and help me a bit; but they did prove all about the time I struck her and some other things I wa’n’t on trial for, although my lawyer objected all he could and said I wa’n’t on trial for ‘em, which I wa’n’t; but the judge said no, of course I wa’n’t, but they’d show malice, so they went in and was printed in the newspapers, and the jury looked awful at me, but I bet every one of ‘em had done most as bad. When I gave the old woman the half peck of potatoes she called on all the saints to bless me to the end of my days. I felt kind of better as I went away, and thought mebbe they’d do somethin’ for me, and this wa’n’t more than seven or eight hours before it happened.