I think kleptomania is not a very common kind of insanity, at least in my experience. Most grafters steal for professional reasons, but Big Sammy was surely a kleptomaniac. He had no reason to graft, for he was well up in the world. When I first met he was standard bearer at a ball given in his honor, and had a club named after him. He had been gin-mill keeper, hotel proprietor, and theatrical manager, and had saved money. He had, too, a real romance in his life, for he loved one of the best choir singers in the city. She was beautiful and loved him, and they were married. She did not know that Sammy was a gun; indeed, he was not a gun, really, for he only used to graft for excitement, or at least, what business there was in it was only a side issue. After their honeymoon Sammy started a hotel at a sea-side resort, where the better class of guns, gamblers and vaudeville artists spent their vacation. That fall he went on a tour with his wife who sang in many of the churches in the State. Sammy was a good box-man. He never used puff (nitro-glycerine), but with a few tools opened the safes artistically. His pal Mike went ahead of the touring couple, and when Sammy arrived at a town he was tipped off to where the goods lay. When he heard that the police were putting it on to the hoboes, he thought it was a good joke and kept it up. He wanted the police to gather in all the black sheep they could, for he was sorry they were so incompetent. The loving couple returned to New York, and were happy for a long time. But finally the wife fell ill, and under-went an operation, from the effects of which she never recovered. She became despondent and jealous of Sammy, though he was one of the best husbands I have known. One morning he had an engagement to meet an old pal who was coming home from stir. He was late, and starting off in a hurry, neglected to kiss his wife good-bye. She called after him that he had forgotten something. Sammy, feeling for his money and cannister, shouted back that everything was all right, and rushed off. His wife must have been in an unusually gloomy state of mind, for she took poison, and when Sammy returned, she was dead. It drove Sammy almost insane, for he loved her always. A few days afterwards he jumped out for excitement and forgetfulness and was so reckless when he tried to make a touch that he was shot almost to pieces. He recovered, however, and was sent to prison for a long term of years. He is out again, and is now regularly on the turf. During his bit in stir all his legitimate enterprizes went wrong, and when he was released, there was nothing for it but to become a professional grafter.