BETSY:—I am here. I will finish my letter. God only knows what it is to be out of work, out of money and out of home. I am not well. Ive had to sleep outdoors, in cars and barns and around lumber piles so much that I have a bad cold. I have not had anything to eat since yisterday mornin. This cold weather has nearly used me up. I got one day’s work cuttin ice, and got a dollar for it. That nite I got me a warm supper and slept in a bed. I run out of money at Elyria, and come from there to Berea. The first beggin I done was from the farmers on the way. I got one warm meal and a cold lunch. I was in Berea a whole day and nite without anything to eat, so I jist had to go to beggin agin. I went to the Methodist preacher’s house one of them real cold mornins. I knocked, and the preacher come to the door. I asked him for somethin to eat. He called to the hired girl and told her to hand me a lunch, and went in, shut the door, and sot down by the fire. I could see him a settin there a readin the Cleveland _Leader_, with his feet restin on a plush foot-stool, and while that girl was a gittin that lunch and I was a standin out there in the wind a lookin at that good big fire I thought I would freeze. My teeth shook. When the girl brought that lunch I was so cold that I could hardly take it. It was two pieces of cold bread, with some cold beef shaved off and laid between. I was hungry and tried to eat it; the bites seemed to stick in my throat, it was so dry and cold. What I did swallow seemed like chunks of ice in my stomach, and made me colder. I shook from head to foot. I couldent eat it, I was so cold. So I put what I couldent eat in my pocket, thinkin I would eat it when I got warmer. I thought Ide die with cold. No matter how fast I walked, I dident get warm. I went on and on till I got down where the bizness houses were. I could smell coffee and warm meat a fryin. It jist seemed as though I had to go in and take some, but I knew I darent. It seemed to make me colder. Finally I saw a sign sayin: +————————+ | FREE HOT SOUP. | +————————+ When I got up to it a man opened the door, a sweepin. I stopped, told him I had no money and was cold, and asked him if I could go into his place and warm. “Certainly,” says he, “go right in. Ile be in in a minit.” I went in—yes, Betsy, went into a saloon, the fust time in my life. Dont blame me. I had to—I was so cold. The stove was red-hot. When the feller come in and saw how I was shakin, says he: “Old man, this is pretty cold weather to be out.” “Yes,” says I, shiverin. He brought me a chair and told me to set down. Then he felt my hands and ears and says: “Why, you are nearly froze.” I told him about havin to stay out all nite, and about not havin anything warm for breakfast, the best I could, I shook so.