"
Mike felt strongly tempted to "put a head on" Jerry, whatever that may
mean; but, as Jerry was a head taller already, the attempt did not seem
quite prudent. He indulged in some forcible remarks, which, however, did
not disturb Jerry's equanimity.
"I'll give you my old shirt, Mike," he said, "if you can find it. I left
it in an alley near the Old Bowery."
"I don't want the dirty rag," said Mike, contemptuously.
Finally a compromise was effected, Jerry offering to help Mike on the
next occasion, and leave the spoils in his hands.
I have to chronicle another adventure of Jerry's, in which he was
less fortunate than he had been in the present case. He was a genuine
vagabond, and lived by his wits, being too lazy to devote himself to
any regular street employment, as boot blacking or selling newspapers.
Occasionally he did a little work at each of these, but regular,
persistent industry was out of his line. He was a drone by inclination,
and a decided enemy to work. On the subject of honesty his principles
were far from strict. If he could appropriate what did not belong to him
he was ready to do so without scruple. This propensity had several times
brought him into trouble, and he had more than once been sent to reside
temporarily on Blackwell's Island, from which he had returned by no
means improved.
Mike was not quite so much of a vagabond as his companion.
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