and he was willing to pay for anything I wanted, and for the life of me
I could not swallow any food. When a man is drinking he doesn't care to
eat at a table. Give him a square meal, and he doesn't enjoy it. I know
men to-day who spend every dollar they earn for drink, and eat nothing
but free lunches, handed out with their drinks. That was what was the
matter with me. All I wanted was drink. The young man had called my
bluff, and I had nothing to show but lies. I sat there wondering how I
was going to get out of this hole. I was looking at the man and he at
me, when the little good that was in me cropped out, and looking him
square in the eye I said, "Young fellow, I've lied to you. I could not
eat the first mouthful." I told him I'd gone up to him thinking he would
dig down in his pocket and give me a little change. I did not mention
the fact that I intended to "put him up in the air" and rob him. Then I
sat back in my chair and waited for the "come-back." Finally he said,
"Have some coffee and sinkers"--rolls. But I could not go even that!

We got to talking, and he asked me where I was living. I smiled at the
idea of my living! I wasn't even existing! I told him I lived any place
where I hung up my hat: that I didn't put up at the Astor House very
often; sometimes at the Delevan, or the Windsor, or in fact, any of the
hotels on the Bowery were good enough for me--that is, if I had the
price, fifteen cents. You can get a bed in a lodging-house for ten
cents, or if you have only seven cents you can get a "flop." You can
sit in some joint all night if you have a nickel, but if you haven't you
can do the next best thing in line, and that is "carry the banner."
Think of walking the streets all night and being obliged to keep moving!

The man took a fifty-cent piece out of his pocket, held it in his hand,
and asked me if I would meet him at the Broome Street Tabernacle the
next morning at ten-thirty. Now I wanted that half-dollar, I wanted it