It is nearly midnight and I must close, for at twelve the art class meets at Soldiers Field to go and paint the John Harvard statue. Your affectionate son, Pierrepont Graham. Pierrepont Graham P.S. I wired you to-day for $50. I couldn't explain by telegraph, but the fact is it cost me that sum to keep your name out of the police court records. [Pg 31] [Pg 31] LETTER NO. III. [Pg 33] [Pg 33] LETTER No. III. Pierrepont, about to forsake Harvard, supplies his father with some reasons for agreeing with him that a post-graduatecourse is not advisable. Cambridge, June 4, 189— Cambridge My Dear Father: No, you certainly need not get out a meat ax to elaborate your arguments against my taking a post-graduate course. What you have already said makes me feel as if a ham had fallen on me from the top of Pillsbury's grain elevator. There I go again with my similes derived from trade! It's exasperating how home associations will cling to a fellow even after four years of college life! But it's worse when these stock-yard phrases bulge out in polite conversation. It's a case of head-on collision with your pride, when you are doing your very neatest to impress some sugar-cured beauty that you are the flower of the flock, to make a break like a Texas steer. The[Pg 34] social circle was pretending to tell ages the other night. When it came my next, a pert little run-about, in a cherry waist and a pair of French shoes that must have come down to her from the original Cinderella, spoke up. [Pg 34] "And you, Mr.
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