I could nearly always be sure of a dollar or two at these lake towns--Chicago, Cleveland, Buffalo, Toronto, and others--owing to my acquaintance with so many men. For almost all the cattlemen that sailed from Baltimore in the winter, worked on the lakes in the summer. They left Baltimore a week or two before navigation began on the lakes, and as soon as it stopped they returned to work as cattlemen between America and Europe. As there were scores of these cattlemen, and I not only knew them all, but was liked, it was to my advantage to make lake towns my haunts. Not one of them ever insulted me with a hint that I should do as he did--work for my money. The reason of this is that they all considered it their duty to assist me, for I had often assisted them in other ways. For instance, when they came back one by one and in twos and threes from the lakes, they were always loth to start begging again in Baltimore, which they must either do or starve. To make things worse, they would probably have to wait a week or two before they could get a chance to sail with cattle, for at this time the office would be full of men. Now, as I was always back before them, they could rely on me for a little assistance, for I would beg extra on their account. But for all that, the money I got from them was more of a curse than a blessing, for the reason that it often kept me several days in idleness; and, after living in lazy respectability for three or four days, I always found it hard to start again to earn my living as a beggar. It seems a mystery that these inland lakes should be sometimes visited by such terrific storms. One winter, when I was in Chicago, I went down to the waterside to see a ship in its last extremity. When I got there I saw thousands of helpless people, watching a vessel sinking before their eyes, no one being able to go to its assistance in small boats. We could expect to see this happen on the wild sea-coast, but this was an inland lake, and here was a city of more than a million inhabitants. It is more to be wondered at by men who have seen that beautiful lake almost without a ripple in summer-time. X The Happy Life It is certainly a mystery how man got into this tangle, having to conform to the rules of civilization--up in the morning at a certain hour, and to bed at a certain time at night, with certain limited intervals for meals; in fact a very slave to these conditions, and so often without power of being otherwise. If he breaks his fetters by indulging in more sleep, or prolonging his meals, he will starve, for nuts are not now free for the picking, and fruits are not now the free gift of Nature; for she herself is made the servant of landlords who are tyrannical over their rights. It is only the small boys who occasionally defy such laws by robbing an orchard and putting to shame their big, cowardly fathers.