Just then I glanced through the door and read an inscription, "He that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out." In making a closer study of this institution, I found it in appearance a veritable Cleopatra's Needle literally covered with quotations inside and out. I then asked where the lodging house was, and if he thought a man would stand any show of getting a bed without a ticket. He replied, "You might try," and directed me to the "free flop" a block down the street on the corner. There I encountered about twenty more men standing idly about. Seeing a light through a door, I entered, believing I was entering the "free flop," but found myself in a negro saloon frequented entirely by colored men. I went out again into the crowd, and stepped up to a thin, emaciated boy, a boy evidently dying with some lingering malady. I asked him where the "flop" was, and he pointed down to the sidewalk and said, "It is under here, the entrance is there at the corner." I slipped over to it, and found a very narrow and almost precipitous stairway leading down under the sidewalk and into a basement under the saloon. This stairway was absolutely gorged with human beings seeking shelter. After seeing that the sick boy had entered last and that I might force him back into the night, I entered, and when it was discovered, before I had scarcely gotten into the place, that I had no ticket, a big bully violently thrust me toward the door and in a loud voice shouted, "Get out of here," and almost threw me up the "golden stairs" and back into the street. Here I found a number of boys and men who, like myself, lingered about ticketless and shelterless. I said to one of them, "What are we going to do for a bed?" He replied, "I'll tell you; you can get in if you will drop down that manhole, and once in you'll be mixed up with the crowd and won't be noticed. I let three fellows in that way the other night. It's mighty heavy but I'll hold it up till you drop down if you want to try it. But, say, I want to tell you if you ain't got nothing on you, and you don't want nothing on you, you'd better try the lumber yard. It isn't so warm as down there, but it's a great deal cleaner. That's where I'm going." I was determined, however, to see this one free lodging house of San Francisco, but I hesitated for just a moment. I wasn't quite sure where I might land, and if I was discovered neither was I quite sure that I might not be murdered. But my fear quickly passed and I said, "All right, lift her up," and down I went. I did not have far to drop, and found myself in that portion of the "heavenly flop" under the negro saloon where hell overhead was already making the night hideous. Between the cracks in the old board floor I could see the light of the saloon shining through. I made no attempt at trying to get a bed. All I wanted was to make a few notes and get out.