ch 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.

"I feel better," he said. "I was very weak when I came in. Thank you,
my boy," and he offered his hand to Julius, which the latter took
readily.

"It ain't nothin'," he said, modestly.

"To me it is a great deal. I hope we shall meet again."

Street boy as he was, Julius had found some one more destitute than
himself, and out of his own poverty he had relieved the pressing need
of another. It made him feel lighter-hearted than usual. It was the
consciousness of having don