A GRATEFUL CLIENT.

MY DEAR ARCHITECT: How did you know my ship was coming in? Queer, isn't it,
that when a man does get a few stamps, his friends all find it out, and can tell him just
what he ought to do with them. But you're right. I've lived in an air-castle long enough.
It's altogether too airy for cold weather, and a house of my own I'm bound to have. Your
information and advice will be exactly in order; for it is a fact, that, until a man has built
at least one house for himself, he is as ignorant as the babe unborn, not only of how to do
it, but, what is ten times worse, ignorant of what he wants to do. So go ahead by all
means; make a missionary of yourself for my benefit. Don't get on your high heels too
soon, and undertake to tell me what won't be of the slightest use unless I have a fortune to
expend.



Give me something commonplace and practical, something that I can apply to a "villa"
of two rooms if my ship happens to be empty. I suppose it's all true that an ugly-looking
house is a sign of want of wit rather than want of money, but there are lots of people who
haven't either, precious few that have both. At all events, the man who has only one
thousand dollars to spend is just as anxious to spend it to the best advantage as he who
has five thousand or fifty.
Mrs. John is delighted. She is bent on the new house, but knows I shall get everything
wrong end first from cellar to attic. I always supposed a good kitchen was a desirable part
of a family establishment, but the chief end of her plans is bay-windows and folding
doors. However, if you tell us to put the front door at the back side of the house, or do any
other absurd thing, it will be all right.
As to your preachment on general principles, I'll do the best I can with it; but don't
give me too much at once.
Yours,
JOHN.