Julius obtained one job before going to breakfast. He waited for another, but as none seemed forthcoming, he shouldered his box and walked down Nassau street till he reached a basement over which was the sign, FREE LUNCH. He went downstairs and entered a dark basement room. On one side was a bar, with a variety of bottles exposed. At the lower end of the apartment was a table, containing a couple of plates of bread and butter and slices of cold meat. This was the free lunch, for which no charge was made, but it was understood to be free to those only who had previously ordered and paid for a drink. Many came in only for the drinks, so that on the whole the business was a paying one. Julius walked up to the bar and called for a glass of lager. "Here, Johnny," said the barkeeper. While he was drinking, a miserable-looking man, whose outward appearance seemed to indicate that Fortune had not smiled upon him lately, sidled in, and without coming to the bar, walked up to the table where the free lunch was spread out. "What'll you have to drink, my friend?" asked the barkeeper, pointedly. The man looked rather abashed, and fumbled in his pockets. "I'm out of money," he stammered. "Then keep away from the lunch, if you please," said the proprietor of the establishment. "No lunch without a drink. That's my rule." "I'm very hungry," faltered the man, in a weak voice. "I haven't tasted food for twenty-four hours." "Why don't you work?" "I can't get work." "That's your lookout. My lunch is for those who drink first." Julius had listened to this conversation with attention. He knew what it was to be hungry. More than once he had gone about with an empty stomach and no money to buy food. He saw that the man was weak and unnerved by hunger, and he spoke on the impulse of the moment, placing five cents in his hand. "Take that and buy a drink." "God bless you!" uttered the man, seizing the coin. "What'll you have?" asked the barkeeper. "Anything the money will buy." A glass of lager was placed in his hands and eagerly quaffed. Then he went up to the table and ate almost ravenously, Julius bearing him company. "God bless you, boy!" he said. "May you never know what it is to be hungry and without a penny in your pocket!" "I've knowed it more'n once," said Julius. "Have you--already? Poor boy! What do you do for a living?" "Sometimes one thing--sometimes another," said Julius. "I'm blackin' boots now." "So I am relieved by the charity of a bootblack," murmured the other, thoughtfully. "The boy has a heart." "Can't you get nothin' to do?" asked Julius, out of curiosity. "Yes, yes, enough to do, but no money," said the other. "Look here," said the barkeeper, "don't you eat all there is on the table. That won't pay on a five-cent drink--that won't." He had some cause for speaking, for the man, who was almost famished, had already eaten heartily. He desisted as he heard these words, and turned to go out.