Going up the street I met another unlucky, a young man twenty-five years of age, a cabinet finisher by trade. We exchanged stories of woe, and unconsciously entered into a partnership of ideas for a resting place that night. While we sat on the stringer of a coal chute, a poor unfortunate victim of alcohol came drifting near. Overhearing our plans, he stopped and told us of a barber who was down and out when he first came to Louisville, and that he never refused an honest, homeless man the privilege of sleeping in a room in the rear of his shop. We followed the dissipated fellow's advice. After asking the barber for a night's resting place, he showed us the room. There were only a few old quilts on the floor, to be sure, but the place was very clean and a good shelter. When we awoke the next morning, the first words with which my companion greeted me were, "When I dropped to sleep last night, I almost wished I would never wake up. To-day is as yesterday,--the same uncertain struggle." Then he whistled a little and hopefully said, "But I may get work to-day." We parted, and I never saw him again. I left for my place of work. At one o'clock sharp I was on hand at the kitchen on the _Lucille Knowland_. The big cook took me and I was soon busily preparing vegetables for my passage. My day and a half of work I donated to the establishment I had just left. I have thought of writing them that they might use it as an advancement to some homeless man for a place to sleep for a week until he could draw his five dollars for seven days' work twelve hours a day. Just before the boat left, a negro boy, the second cook, appeared on the scene and I discovered that John Ray (that was the head cook's name) was not taking me because he needed me, but simply because he wanted to help me. When night came he spoke to one of the officers who gave me as fine a state room as there was in the officers' cabin. I fell asleep, but at midnight I was suddenly awakened by a black face thrust in at the door and a voice excitedly crying, "Get up! The boat is on fire!" In another instant I was out. I saw the darkies, with trousers in one hand and shoes in the other, scared speechless, skidding to the fore part of the boat. There was a fire down in the hold, but it was quickly extinguished without disturbing a passenger, and we of the crew were simply called to fight fire if necessary. I returned to my berth. It was the first time for many a night that I had enjoyed the comforts of a bed. I slept unruffled and refreshingly until morning. The second morning we were in Evansville, and as I left John Ray I took him by the hand and said, "John Ray, if I ever get to Heaven I will surely find you there, for Heaven is made up of hearts like yours!"