kened chimneys, shadowy demons working over
fiery furnaces, boiling, white hot lava flowed in streams, the air was
filled with smoke and sparks.

Alfred imagined he had died in his sins and was now nearing the place of
eternal torment. He could liken the scene before him to nothing on
earth. It must be Hell, and he felt that the lid had been lifted for his
especial benefit.

There was a rap on his stateroom door and a voice called: "All out for
Pittsburg." Alfred hustled into his clothes and walked out in the cabin,
not desiring to leave the boat until after daylight. He inquired of the
clerk as to how long the boat would remain there. "We leave at eight
o'clock," replied the clerk.

"Eight o'clock what? Morning or night?" asked Alfred.

"Eight o'clock morning," replied the man.

"Why, when does it get daylight in Pittsburg?" inquired the bewildered
boy.

The clerk laughed as he answered, "Tomorrow, if the sun shines."

Alfred hastened ashore. The old National Hotel, Water and Smithfield
Streets, had sheltered him before. Therein he entered. Changing his
clothing he wandered forth aimlessly. He entered the Red Lion Hotel,
looked over the circus grounds and then to Ben Trimble's Theatre; from
there to the old Drury Theater, Wood and Fifth Avenue. He took in all
the sights of the big city.

Then he began to make plans as to the future. The hotel rate was one
dollar and a half a day. When Alfred settled, which he did at the end of
the first day, he had but thirty-five cents left. He left his baggage
with the hotel people and began a search for work.

Were you ever in a strange city, broke and without a friend, without the
price of a bed, without the price of a full meal? Did you ever feel the
loneliness, the forsakedness of this condition? You may say, "Well, I'd
get a job; I'd do anything; I'd dig ditches; I'd--" Well, they do not
dig ditches in winter, and when they do dig them you must have a vote
before you can get a job even at that labor and you cannot get a job at
any kind of laboring work unless your physique and clothes look the
part.

You say there's no excuse for any man being broke or out of a job these
times? Well, there may be no excuse that will satisfy you but there are
men in this condition all over this land--and good honest, willing men,
willing to do any kind of work to earn a living. When they apply to you
encourage them even though you do not hire them.

Alfred applied to a large concern