“Better get married again and see if we couldn’t get a stock of silver this time. Generous folk always load the rich down with plenty of silver. At poor people’s weddings one sees nothing but cake baskets.” “We got a brass lamp and some napkin rings.” “Did we? I don’t remember; we must have lost the rings.” “No; they turned brassy, and I didn’t dare to put them on the table any longer. “Oh, I tell you what _I_ should have, and I’m sure I need it badly enough to get it immediately.” “Humph!” “Yes; you know, you guessed it--a new dress--right away. And it should have silk linings, finer on the inside than the out, and real hair cloth, and--yes!” with a rising inflection, “four godets in it! There! I should buy no more Monday bargain coats.” “And I believe I would have my suits made to order, and I should like some of those English imported ties--the ‘purple moment’ ones.” “I should only wear the very finest silk stockings.” “You should--and red ones at that, to gratify my aesthetic love of a flash of color.” “Another thing; I have enough to do as guide, counsellor and friend; we’d get a girl to help in the housework.” “But we wouldn’t move into a larger house. There is too much stuff in the cellar to dream of moving, and we couldn’t abandon it--or _I_ couldn’t. Yes, by Jove! we’d move. I’d begin to collect Posters and first editions, and I guess we’d want more room.” “That’s just a man’s selfishness to want a whole house to himself. Well, I want a parasol which is a parasol, and not an umbrella in winter as well.” “That’s only a trifle. When we go for excursions in summer we’ll take the car down to the very wharf. You know how mad you get sometimes in summer when I try to persuade you it’s more healthful to walk than to ride.” “Yes? but we wouldn’t go for _excursions_. We’d go to Newport--to Europe. You see how prosperity saves bitterness of spirit by making walking altogether unnecessary.” “That’s so--and I’ll get shaved at the barber’s, and we’ll have our portraits done by Aubrey Beardsley or Whistler.” “Let me see--a box at the opera, the Symphony, flowers--really, there must be more ways of spending money than we’ve thought of.” “The only things I can think of are first editions, Posters--and English ties.” “Then I’ll tell you what. You must set to work and write a manual on ‘How to Spend Money’ at once, or we shall be perfectly miserable and distracted with the consciousness of a lack of yearnings when we get our million.” “That’s so; the best way to learn anything is to write a book about it--and perhaps this may be as true of spending a million as of anything else.” And so it has come about that I am to engage in the labor of compiling a companion volume to Benjamin Franklin’s admirable Poor Richard book of precepts on economy and the wise conduct of life. It appears to be almost as much needed for people who lack the spending faculty and imagination.