I spent my first day in New York looking up my old pals and girls, especially the latter. How I longed to exchange friendly words with a woman! But the girls I knew were all gone, and I was forced to make new acquaintances on the spot. I spent all the afternoon and most of the evening with a girl I picked up on the Bowery; I thought she was the most beautiful creature in the world; but when I saw her again weeks afterwards, when women were not so novel to me, I found her almost hideous. I must have longed for a young woman's society, for I did not go to see my poor old mother until I had left my Bowery acquaintance. And yet my mother had often proved herself my only friend! But I had a long talk with her before I slept, and when I left her for a stroll in the wonderful city before going to bed my resolution to be good was keener than ever. As I sauntered along the Bowery that night the desire to talk to an old pal was strong. But where was I to find a friend? Only in places where thieves hung out. "Well," I said to myself, "there is no harm in talking to my old pals. I will tell them there is nothing in the graft, and that I have squared it." I dropped into a music hall, a resort for pickpockets, kept by an old gun, and there I met Teddy, whom I had not seen for years. "Hello, Jim," he said, giving me the glad hand, "I thought you were dead." "Not quite so bad as that, Teddy," I replied, "I am still in evidence." We had a couple of beers. I could not quite make up my mind to tell him I had squared it; and he put me next to things in town. "Take my advice," he said, "and keep away from ---- ---- (naming certain clubs and saloons where thieves congregated). The proprietors of these places and the guns that hang out there, many of them anyway, are not on the level. Some of the grafters who go there have the reputation of being clever dips, but they have protection from the Front Office men because they are rats and so can tear things open without danger. By giving up a certain amount of stuff and dropping a stall or two occasionally to keep up the flyman's reputation, they are able to have a bank account and never go to stir. The flymen hang out in these joints, waiting for a tip, and they are bad places for a grafter who is on the level." I listened with attention, and said, by force of habit: "Put me next to the stool-pigeons, Teddy. You know I am just back from stir." "Well," he answered, "outside of so and so (and he mentioned half-a-dozen men by name) none of them who hang out in those joints can be trusted. Come to my house, Jim, and we'll have a long talk about old times, and I will introduce you to some good people (meaning thieves)."