The first Philadelphia police officer I met I asked several questions about the city. His manner toward me was a surprise. He seemed very willing to talk with an apparently homeless man. We spoke of a number of things, among them the Philadelphia Coat of Arms which ornamented his hat, representing the shield of honor and the scales of Justice. I said, "It is beautiful and stands for a high ideal." He replied doubtfully, "Yes, if it is carried out." I then strolled down to the corner of Eleventh and Race Streets, and seeing another policeman I approached him with the question: "Where can a fellow get a free bed?" He looked at me in surprise. "I don't know. You might go down to the station house on the next corner. They may give you a bunk." I walked slowly down to the station house. Was it possible that in that great city of "Brotherly Love," its police could not direct a destitute man or woman, boy or girl, to a place of rest, to a home of shelter,--to be fed and given comfort and good cheer,--except to a jail and behind iron bars? I entered the station where there were a number of men around the desk. I asked the Captain where a penniless man could get a free bed. He asked, "Haven't you the price of a bed?" "No, I have not a penny in my pocket." "Well, I'll give you a cell," he said, and opened a register to write my name. I asked, "Is there not a place in the city where a man can work for his supper, bed, and breakfast?" "None that I know of," was the answer. Then an officer said, "You can go down to the Galilee Mission." I asked where it was, and they directed me. Just as I turned to go the policeman nearest to me handed me a dime. [Illustration: _Municipal Lodging House, New York City Men's Shower Baths_] [Illustration: _Municipal Lodging House, New York City Female Showers and Wash Rooms_] I started as directed, down to Winter and Darian Streets, to the Galilee Mission. I had proceeded but a short distance when I saw standing on a corner one of the great army of workers. His appearance told me plainly what he was,--his hands were calloused, and his half-worn shoes were covered with a white viscous substance, and a dim mist of lime dust clouded his entire person. I stepped up to him and asked where I could get a free bed. "Don't know of such a place in the city, but you can get a bed at the Lombard Street woodyard by working three or four hours for it. But don't go there unless you have to--they won't treat you right." I thanked him and went on down to the Mission. As I approached it, one of the followers of the Mission, with a Bible or hymn-book under his arm, was at the door in an altercation with one of the great army of unfortunates. The man had an honest face, but the glazed eyes told he had been drinking. I heard the attendant say, "Now, you get out of here or I'll fix you! I'll have an officer here in a minute, and he'll land you in jail in pretty quick time."