With the feeling that closing one's eyes in the public park in Cleveland might mean life imprisonment or at least, for the second offense, a rap on the head instead of the feet, which might disqualify me for my seat in the "senate" that night, I forced myself to keep awake, and in order to do that I had to keep moving. The agreement with myself was not to beg or steal. I was to be always "on the square." I decided to continue to look for work. The day before, in search of work, I had climbed many stairs, entered stores, hotels, factories, even tried the City, all without success. I began to feel that perhaps I was too old, yet several of them had said, "Come again. There are always chances. We may be able to use you in a few days." I realized I was weak from lack of sleep and nourishment. I must eat first. Just then I overheard one starving man say to another (the park was full of "wide-awake," starving men), "Jack, I have ten cents, let's have a couple of beers." "Honest, Bill, I'd rather have a loaf of bread for my share." "But you see," returned Bill, "you can get a scoop of beer as big as a toy balloon and a free lunch like a Christmas dinner for the price of a loaf of bread." "All right, I'm with you," said Jack who then continued, "Another week like the one gone by, and want will have me in a home for incurables." 'Tis true I had forty-four cents due me for one day's "session" in the "senate." But what of that? It was not due until Saturday night at twelve o'clock. By that time hunger might drive a man to wreck, rob, murder or suicide, and there is no telling what a politician will do, even on a full stomach. I then remembered hearing one "senator" telling another of a Catholic institution where he had received a hand-out for some work. I remembered the name of the place. I also remembered hearing another say he had earned fifty cents that day beating carpets,--a job he secured from the Associated Charities. I first made my way to the Romanist institution. A Sister with a sweet face framed in folds of black and white met me at the door. She looked kind enough to give me the institution, but she didn't. If she had, Cleveland would have had, from the way I was feeling just then, a Municipal Emergency Home about as quickly as one could change the sign. What she did give me was a job cleaning windows, for which I received a bowl of cold coffee and a piece of bread. As I waited I caught glimpses of delicious dishes of chicken, steaks, and other wholesome and dainty edibles. To the cook, a bright young Irish woman who had received orders to give me only what was before me, I said, as I looked at the bowl and bread, "Do these people believe in multiplying anything around here?" "Yes." "What?" "Working hours." "What do you do for something to eat when you get really hungry?"