About this time I was introduced to a peculiar character in the shape of a few yards of calico. It was at Carey's place on Bleecker Street that I first saw this good-looking youth of nineteen, dressed in the latest fashion. His graft was to masquerade as a young girl, and for a long time Short-Haired Liz, as we called him, was very successful. He sought employment as maid in well-to-do families and then made away with the valuables. One day he was nailed, with twenty charges against him. He was convicted on the testimony of a chamber-maid, with whom, in his character of lady's maid, he had had a lark. Mr. R----, who was still influential, did his best for him, for his fall-money was big, and he only got a light sentence. I heard one day that an old pal of mine, Dannie, had just been hanged. It gave me a shock, for I had often grafted with him when we were kids. As there were no orchards on the streets of the east side, Dannie and I used to go to the improvised gardens that lined the side-walks outside of the green grocers' shops, and make away with strawberries, apples, and other fruits. By nature I suppose boys are no more bothered with consciences than are police officials. Dannie rose rapidly in the world of graft and became very dangerous to society. As a grafter he had one great fault. He had a very quick temper. He was sensitive, and lacking in self-control, but he was one of the cleverest guns that ever came from the Sixth Ward, a place noted for good grafters of both sexes. He married a respectable girl and had a nice home, for he had enough money to keep the police from bothering him. If it had not been for his bad temper, he might be grafting yet. He would shoot at a moment's notice, and the toughest of the hard element were afraid of him. One time he had it in for an old pal of his named Paddy. For a while Paddy kept away from the saloon on Pell Street where Dannie hung out, but Paddy, too, had nerve, and one day he turned up at his old resort, the Drum, as it was called. He saw Dannie and fired a cannister at him. Dannie hovered between life and death for months, and had four operations performed on him without anæsthetics. After he got well Dannie grafted on the Albany boats. One night he and his pals tried to get a Moll's leather, but some Western guns who were on the boat were looking for provender themselves and nicked the Moll. Dannie accused them of taking his property, and, as they would not give up, pulled his pistol. One of the Western guns jumped overboard, and the others gave up the stuff. Dannie was right, for that boat belonged to him and his mob.