ary 30, 189-

_Dear Pierrepont:_ I knew right off that I had made a mistake when I
opened the inclosed and saw that it was a bill for fifty-two dollars,
"for roses sent, as per orders, to Miss Mabel Dashkam." I don't just
place Miss Dashkam, but if she's the daughter of old Job Dashkam, on the
open Board, I should say, on general principles, that she was a fine
girl to let some other fellow marry. The last time I saw her, she
inventoried about $10,000 as she stood--allowing that her diamonds would
scratch glass--and that's more capital than any woman has a right to tie
up on her back, I don't care how rich her father is. And Job's fortune
is one of that brand which foots up to a million in the newspapers and
leaves the heirs in debt to the lawyers who settle the estate.

Of course I've never had any real experience in this sparking business,
except with your Ma; but I've watched from the other side of the fence
while a heap of fellows were getting it, and I should say that marrying
a woman like Mabel Dashkam would be the first step toward becoming a
grass widower. I'll bet if you'll tell her you're making twelve a week
and ain't going to get any more till you earn it, you'll find that you
can't push within a mile of her even on a Soo ice-breaker. She's one of
those women with a heart like a stock-ticker--it doesn't beat over
anything except money.

Of course you're in no position yet to think of being engaged even, and
that's why I'm a little afraid that you may be planning to get married.
But a twelve-dollar clerk, who owes fifty-two dollars for roses, needs a
keeper more than a wife. I want to say right here that there always
comes a time to the fellow who blows fifty-two dollars at a lick on
roses when he thinks how many staple groceries he could have bought
with the money. After all, there's no fool like a young fool, because
in the nature of things he's got a long time to live.

I suppose I'm fanning the air when I ask you to be guided by my judgment
in this matter, because, while a young fellow will consult his father
about buying a horse, he's cock-sure of himself when it comes to picking
a wife. Marriages may be made in Heaven, but most engagements are made
in the back parlor with the gas so low that a fellow doesn't really get
a square look at what he's taking. While a man doesn't see much of a
girl's family when he's courting, he's apt to see a good deal of it when
he's housekeeping; and while he doesn't ma