What a night of midsummer beauty it was! No singer ever sung, or artist ever portrayed, a fairer scene! I was very tired and hungry, and dropped down on a seat to rest. "And the cares that infest the day seem to fold up their tents like the Arabs and as silently steal away." I could have dropped to sleep and slept with the peace of a little child; with no covering but the boughs of the green trees, with no watcher but the stars in the sea of blue above me, with no company but the song of the night bird that could sing all night. Many people were seated on the benches. Near me were two men. I drew a little nearer to them and engaged them in conversation. "Are you out of a job, too?" one of them asked. "You can't remain here all night, if you are thinking of sleeping in the park, for the police will drive you out. This would be a fine place to rest, wouldn't it? We would like to remain here until daylight. We have work promised us at Homestead. We might as well walk out there to-night, and go before we are told to go." The last words were to his partner. They turned to me again saying, "Good-night, old man, hope you'll have luck," and were gone. I then walked a long way up the park, noticing that already it had been cleared of its weary ones, that they had been driven from these haunts of nature back into the black holes of the city. I saw but one old white-haired man sitting with his head in his hands, sound asleep. I stepped up to him, and touching him, said, "Why don't you lie down on the bench and sleep; you would rest so much more comfortably?" He awoke with a startled look, and said, "I am afraid." "Afraid of what?" In a frightened manner he replied, "I don't know." I knew he was afraid of the police. "I don't think anyone will trouble you." He laid his old, exhausted, worn-out frame down upon the seat, and was almost immediately lost in the slumber he so needed. I had left him but a moment when I saw a policeman in the distance who stopped and viewed me closely, then turned and went in the direction of the old man. I was inclined to follow him, but I did not dare, nor could I wait to see the pathetic finish. I strolled back down the park and saw by a light in a distant tower that it was midnight. The park seemed utterly deserted but for a dog sleeping under a bush. I went back to the gate by which I had entered, and sat down near it. Between there and the bridge was the part of the city given over to dens of vice, which are open all night, among them being scattered places of legitimate business which are open only in the light of day, and in the night afford a deeper shelter for crime and the criminal. I took a seat near the entrance thinking that I would wait until an officer came along, and get an actual example of his treatment to a man in my position. [Illustration: _MUNICIPAL Lodging House, New York City Men's Dining Room_]