Two other girls whom I knew when I was fifteen turned out to be famous shop-lifters--Big Lena and Blonde Mamie, who afterwards married Tommy, the famous cracksman. They began to graft when they were about fourteen, and Mamie and I used to work together. I was Mamie's first "fellow," and we had royal good times together. Lena, poor girl, is now doing five years in London, but she was one of the most cheerful Molls I ever knew. I met her and Mamie for the first time one day as they were coming out of an oyster house on Grand Street. I thought they were good-looking tid-bits, and took them to a picnic. We were so late that instead of going home Mamie and I spent the night at the house of Lena's sister, whose husband was a receiver of stolen goods, or "fence," as it is popularly called. In the morning Lena, Mamie and I made our first "touch" together. We got a few "books" uptown, and Mamie banged a satchel at Sterns. After that we often jumped out together, and took in the excursions. Sometimes Mamie or Lena would dip and I would stall, but more frequently I was the pick. We used to turn our swag over to Lena's sister's husband, Max, who would give us about one-sixth of its value. These three girls certainly were a crack-a-jack trio. You can't find their likes nowadays. Even in my time most of the girls I knew did not amount to anything. They generally married, or did worse. There were few legitimate grafters among them. Since I have been back this time I have seen a great many of the old picks and night-workers I used to know. They tell the same story. There are no Molls now who can compare with Big Lena, Blonde Mamie, and Sheenie Annie. Times are bad, anyway. After my experience in the Tombs I rose very rapidly in the world of graft, and distanced my old companions. Zack, the lad with whom I had touched my first Moll, soon seemed very tame to me. I fell away from him because he continued to eat bolivers (cookies), patronize the free baths, and stole horse-blankets and other trivial things when he could not get "leathers." He was not fast enough for me. Zack "got there," nevertheless, and for little or nothing, for several years later I met him in State's prison. He told me he was going to Colorado on his release. I again met him in prison on my second bit. He was then going to Chicago. On my third hit I ran up against the same old jail-bird, but this time his destination was Boston. To-day he is still in prison.