I then took the part of a cringing, disgraced, dependent with nothing to lose and nothing to gain, except to try and keep God's gift, the spark of life, until in my own opinion, at least, I could place myself in a position to be honorable. I knew that I would be looked upon suspiciously by the police, possibly thrown into jail; that in all of the places where I would ask for aid, they would look upon me as mean, base, low,--mental defective perhaps, or a victim of some awful habit. My poverty would be, of course, all my fault, as "there is no need of any one's being poor." I first looked for the Associated Charities. I scanned the papers closely, not knowing but that they might advertise to give a destitute man or woman, boy or girl, a lift. Finding no notice, I found the place at last, after a good deal of difficulty. Reaching there at about five minutes after five, I saw a sign on the door which told me they kept the usual "banking" hours, 9 A. M. to 5 P. M. I wondered whether, possibly, some one might not need a little help between 5 P. M. and 9 A. M. The Y. M. C. A. here, also, had nothing to give an indigent man, any more than in the other cities where I had been. Strolling down Burnside Street I came to an establishment with a sign, "People's Institute," over the door. I entered and asked for help. They had nothing to give away but religion. Yes, they had a reading-room, where a number of men sat reading in profound silence. Here I saw several other signs: "No Smoking," "Do your reading here, your talking on the outside, but not at the door." I inquired where a man was supposed to talk, and was told that it was "in the park or a block down the street." I wandered down to the river. Glancing across to the other side I saw a huge sign, which read: "Salvation Army. Industrial Home." I crossed the river and on reaching this work-house of faith and worship I saw that the lower floors were locked and dark. Climbing a stairway leading to the second story, I found myself in a rambling barrack. Hearing a noise in one of the rooms I made my way there and found a man preparing supper. I told him of my hard luck, and that I was willing to work for it if I could get a lodging for the night and supper and breakfast. He went right on pealing his onions and potatoes, telling me decidedly that the meals were for the officers of the Army and he was not allowed to give anything away. The Industrial part of the "Salvation Army Industrial Home" seemed to have ceased to be at the finishing of that great sign. The Captain told me later, however, that if I had asked the right man I would have been helped, but that I had asked the cook.