Chipley is a fine little town of about 1,200 inhabitants, and a more sociable lot of people I've never met. It was soon mouthed about the streets how I reached the town, and for a time I was the cynosure of all eyes, though no one offered to arrest me. There are some five or six saw-mills around Chipley. About two miles from the town is a large saw-mill and brick kiln owned by J. D. Hall. A young merchant of the town informed me that Mr. Hall was badly in need of labor and was paying good prices. Even to hobo the roads, a man needs money, and I decided to stake up a bit before continuing my way. Sometime before noon I arrived at the mill. Mr. Hall looked me over quite critically. "Did you ever do any hard labor?" he asked. "Yes, sir," I untruthfully replied, for, to be candid, I had never done a day's hard work in my life. "Well, you don't look it," was the compliment. "However, I'll give you a trial at $1.50 per day. You can board with Mr. ...... for thirty cents a day." "That's unusually cheap for board," I said. "A man doing hard labor needs plenty to eat and I'm perfectly willing to pay at least $3.50 per week." Evidently he misconstrued my meaning. "My men furnish plenty to eat for any man," said he, "but you won't get any pie or cake," he retorted, eyeing me with undisguised disapproval. "O, that's all right! I can eat anything," I hastened to say. "Very well, Mr. Peele, you may come to work this afternoon. It's not far to your boarding place. Just keep the straight path through the woods there, and its the first house you get to." I'll not expose my landlord's name, but for the sake of convenience we'll call him Mr. Black. In due time I reached the Black household. The scene which met my gaze was altogether uninviting and unappetizing. I can't describe the house. There was one living room, a kitchen, and a shed room. The day was warm and several Black children were in the yard playing as I reached the gate. Upon seeing a stranger approach there was a general stampede for the back yard, some of the smaller children taking refuge behind Mrs. Black, who at that moment appeared in the open doorway. If appearances count for anything, Mrs. Black had certainly not combed her hair within several weeks, and the grime on her face and clothes was a sickening sight to contemplate. "Good morning, madam; my name is Peele; I'm to work at the saw-mill, and Mr. Hall says you'll furnish me board." "All right, just make yourself at home," she invited bashfully, and the next moment she disappeared into the dark recess of the only living room. Strictly on time, Mr. Black arrived for the noonday meal, and forthwith we proceeded to the dining-room. Both Mr. and Mrs. Black began making apologies, but, with a few jokes, I set them at ease, assuring them that I wouldn't be hard to please. To see the hard side of life would make a better man of me anyway, I reflected.