But he did not attempt to write a chapter of this exquisite reminiscing every day. It was sandwiched in between columns of paragraphs and verse such as had earned for him his great vogue with the readers of the Record. He could still surprise and pain the "first literary circles of Chicago" with such literary notes as:

It is officially announced by the official board of managers of the National Federation of Realists that Hamlin Garland put on his light-weight flannels last week.

In the north branch recently was found a turtle having upon its back the letters P.B.S.—the initials of the revered name of the immortal Percy Bysshe Shelley.

And he did not fail to keep Chicago informed of the latest Buena Park news in such rural journal notes as these:

Among the many improvements to be noticed in the Park this spring is the handsome new collar with which the ever-enterprising William Clow, Esq., has provided his St. Bernard dog.

A dessert of sliced bananas and oranges is all the rage in the Park this season. Tapioca pudding is a thing of the past. How true it is that humanity is ever variable and fickle!

But there was very much less of this sort of thing and of the daily badinage of the paragrapher than in the days of Field's primacy in that line. He was reserving all that was freshest, and sweetest, and most delicate in his fancy for the "Love Affairs."

I spent the summer of 1895 in Evanston, and one night in October, just as the family was thinking of retiring, I was called to the telephone by Field, who asked if we had any pie in the house, for he was coming up to get a slice from the pantry of my Vermont mother-in-law. He was gladly bidden to come along. In a few minutes in he walked, and was made welcome to whatever the pantry afforded—whether it was pie, pickles, or plain cheese and crackers, I do not now recall. It appeared that he had been in Evanston that night, giving a reading for the benefit of a social and literary club such as were always drawing drafts upon his good-nature and powers of entertaining. I never knew Field in better spirits than he was that night. He told of several humorous incidents that happened at the reading, and then recited one or two of the things he had read there. He sat at the piano and crooned songs and caressed the ivory keys as he told stories and we talked of the "Love Affairs" and of his prospects, which were never brighter. None who were present that memorable night will forget his reading of "The Night Wind." We turned the lights down low and listened, while with that wonderful voice he brought "the night that broods outside" into the darkened room, with that weird and ghostly:

Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo! Yoooooooo!

Not until there was barely time to catch the last electric-car for Buena Park did Field tear himself away from that appreciative company; and then he insisted that I should go with him to the cars. And so we "walked and talked," as of old, until the last south-bound car came. And as he boarded it, it seemed as if ten years had been wiped off the record, and I should see him at the office next morning. And that was the last time I ever saw Eugene Field alive.

For a few mornings after that I read his column in the Record. A few more chapters were added to the "Love Affairs," and then:

On Saturday morning, November 2d, Field spoke to the readers of the Record, through his accustomed column and in his accustomed spirit of human sympathy and genial humor. It led off with the little shot at his native city:

No matter what else it did, if the earthquake shock waked up St. Louis, there should be no complaint.

And it concluded with a loyal defence of his old friend and associate, "Bill" Nye, who, having aroused the ire of an audience at Paterson, N.J., had been roughly set upon and egged by a turbulent crowd of men while on his way to the railroad station. Field indignantly repelled the suggestion that Nye's indiscretion was due to inebriety, but traced it to his bad health. "Only the utmost caution," he wrote, "and the most scrupulous observance of the rules laid down by his physician have enabled Nye to go ahead with his work. This work in itself has been arduous. If there is anything more vexatious or more wearing than travelling about the country in all kinds of weather and at the mercy of railroads, and lecture-bureaus, and hotel-keepers, we do not know it."

And yet, at the very moment Field wrote this he, a more delicately organized invalid than "Bill" Nye, had his ticket bought, his state-room engaged, and his trunk packed to leave for Kansas City, where he was to give a reading on the evening of Monday, November 4th. He felt so indisposed on Saturday that he did not leave his bed. That, however, did not prevent his finishing Chapter XIX of the "Love Affairs." As it was no unusual thing for him to write, as well as read, in bed, this occasioned no alarm in the family circle. But that evening he decided to give up the Kansas City trip, and asked his brother Roswell to wire the management of the affair to that effect. On Sunday he was still indisposed, but received numerous visitors. To one of them, who remarked that it was a perfect November day, Field said: "Yes, it is a lovely day, but this is the season of the year when things die, and this fine weather may mean death to a thousand people. We may hear of many deaths to-morrow."

In the evening he complained of a pain in his head; and as he was feeling a little feverish, Dr. Hedges, who lived near by, was called in. He came about half-past ten o'clock; and after taking Field's temperature, which was only slightly above normal, said it was due to weakness, and probably resulted from the excitement of seeing so many visitors. Field joked with the doctor, told him several stories, and was assured that he was getting on all right. Before leaving, the doctor said that if it was fine on Monday it would do Field good to get out and take some exercise. Shortly before midnight a message came from Kansas City, asking when he would be able to appear there. He dictated an answer, saying that he would come November 16th. Then wishing everybody goodnight, he turned over and went to sleep as peacefully as any little child in one of his stories.

An hour before daylight the sleeper turned in his bed and groaned. His second son, "Daisy," who always slept with his father, spoke to him, but got no answer. Then he reached over and touched him; but there was not the usual response of a word or a caress. In terror-stricken recognition of the awful presence, Daisy alarmed the whole household with his cry, "Come quick! I believe papa is dead!"

And so it was. Death had stolen upon Eugene Field as he slept. And so they found him, lying in a natural position, his hands clasped over his heart, his head turned to one side, and his lips half parted, as if about to speak.

It was just such a death as he had often said would be his choice. Just a dropping to sleep here and an awakening yonder. The doctor said it was heart-failure, resulting from a sudden spasm of pain. But the face bore no trace of pain. The moan that wakened Daisy was probably that sigh with which mortal parts with mortality—the parting breath between life and death, which will scarcely stir a feather and yet will awaken the soundest sleeper. To my mind Eugene Field died as his father, "of physical exhaustion, a deterioration of the bodily organs, and an incapacity on their part to discharge the vital functions—a wearing out of the machine before the end of the term for which its duration was designed."

And thus there passed from the midst of us as gentle and genial a spirit as ever walked the earth. I know not why his death should recall that memorable scene of Mallory's, the death of Launcelot, unless it be that Field considered it the most beautiful passage in English literature:

So when sir Bors and his fellowes came to his bed, they found him starke dead, and hee lay as hee had smiled, and the sweetest savour about him that ever they smelled. Then was there weeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest dole they made that ever made men....

Then went sir Bors unto sir Ector, and told him how there lay his brother sir Launcelot dead. And then sir Ector threw his shield, his sword, and his helme from him; and when hee beheld sir Launcelot's visage hee fell down in a sowne, and when hee awaked it were hard for any tongue to tell the dolefull complaints that hee made for his brother. "Ah, sir Launcelot," said hee, "thou were head of all Christian knights! And now, I dare say," said sir Ector, "that, sir Launcelot there thou liest, thou were never matched of none earthly knights hands; and thou were the curtiest that ever beare shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrood horse, and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strooke with sword; and thou were the goodliest person that ever came among presse of knights; and thou were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever eate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the rest."

Then there was weeping and dolour out of measure.

If I have interpreted the story of "The Good Knight's" life aright, the reader will comprehend the relation there is in my mind between the scene at the death of the knightliest knight of romance and that of him who moved in our modern life, steeped and imbued with the thoughts, fancies, and speech of the age of chivalry. For the age of shield, and spear, and tourney, he would have been the unlikeliest man ever born of woman; but with his "sweet pen" he waged unceasing battle for all things beautiful, and true, and pure in this modern world. That is why his best songs sing of mother's love and childhood and of the eternal bond between them. He hated sham, and humbug, and false pretence, and that is why his daily paragraphs gleam and sparkle with the relentless satire and ridicule; he detested the solemn dulness of conventional life, and that is why he scourged society with the "knotted lash of sarcasm" and dissipated melancholy with the unchecked effrontery of his mirth. And so his songs were full of sweetness, and his words were words of strength; and his last message to the children of his pen was:

Go forth, little lyrics, and sing to the hearts of men. This beautiful world is full of song, and thy voices may not be heard of all—but sing on, children of ours; sing to the hearts of men, and thy song shall at least swell the universal harmony that bespeaketh God's love and the sweetness of humanity.

And so is it any wonder that when the tidings of his death was borne throughout the land "there was weeping and dolour out of measure," and that a wave of sympathy swept over the country for the bereft family of the silent singer?

I have often been asked what was Eugene Field's religious belief—a question I cannot answer better than in the language of the Rev. Frank M. Bristol in his funeral address:

I have said of my dear friend that he had a creed. His creed was love. He had a religion. His religion was kindness. He belonged to the church—the church of the common brotherhood of man. With all the changes that came to his definitions and formulas, he never lost from his heart of hearts the reverence for sacred things learned in childhood, and inherited from a sturdy Puritan ancestry. From that deep store of love and faith and reverence sprang the streams of his happy songs, and ever was he putting into his tender verses those ideas of the living God, the blessed Christ, the ministering angels of immortal love, the happiness of heaven, which were instilled into his-heart when but a boy.

Those who gathered at his house on the day of the funeral and looked upon the form of the "Good Knight" in his last sleep saw a large white rose in one of his hands. There was a touching story connected with that rose: On the preceding afternoon a lady, who was a friend of Field's, went to a florist's to order some flowers for the grave. A poorly clad little girl was looking wistfully in at the window and followed the lady into the store.

"Are those flowers for Mr. Field?" she asked. "Oh, I wish I could send him just one. Won't you, please, give me one flower?"

The florist placed a beautiful white rose in her little hand. Then she turned and gave it to the lady, with the request: "Please put it near Mr. Field with your flowers." And the little girl's single rose—the gift of love without money and without price—was given the place of honor that day beyond the wealth of flowers that filled house and church with the incense of affection for the dead.

The funeral was a memorable demonstration of the common regard in which Field was held by all classes of citizens. The services took place in the Fourth Presbyterian Church, from which hundreds turned sorrowfully away, because they could not gain admission. The Rev. Thomas C. Hall, who had recently succeeded Dr. Stryker, one of Field's intimate friends, who had been called to the presidency of Hamilton College, conducted the formal ceremonies, in which he was assisted by the Rev. Frank M. Bristol, who delivered the address, and the Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus, who embodied his tribute to his friend in a poem remarkable for the felicity with which it passed in review many of the more noteworthy of Field's lyrics. Its opening stanzas read:

_'Midst rustling of leaves in the rich autumn air, At eve when man's life is an unuttered prayer, There came through the dusk, each with torch shining bright, From far and from near, in his sorrow bedight, The old earth's lone pilgrim o'er land and o'er wave. Who gathered around their dear poet's loved grave.

With trumpet and drum, but in silence, they came— Their paths were illumed by their torches' mild flame, Whose soft lambent streams by love's glory were lit; And where fairy knights and bright elves used to flit Across the wan world when the lights quivered dim, These watched at the grave, and were mourning for him._

That the spirit of those funeral services was neither local nor ephemeral is proved by the following poem, which, by a strange coincidence, came in a round-about way to my desk in the Record-Herald office from their author in Texarkana, Texas, the very day I transcribed the above lines from Dr. Gunsaulus's "Songs of Night and Morning" into the manuscript of this book:

_EUGENE FIELD

1.

Sleep well, dear poet of the heart! In dreamless rest by cares unbroken; Thy mission filled, in peace depart. Thy message to the world is spoken.

2.

Thy song the weary heart beguiles; Like generous wine it soothes and cheers, Yet oftentimes, amid our smiles, Thy pathos melts a soul to tears.

3.

In "Casey's Tabble-Dote" no more Thy kindly humor will be heard; In silence now we must deplore The horrors of that "small hot bird."

4.

The "Restauraw" is silent now, The "Conversazzhyony's" over; And "Red Hoss Mountain's" gloomy brow Looks down where lies "Three-fingered Hoover."

5.

Our friend "Perfesser Vere de Blaw" No longer on the "Steenway" prances With "Mizzer-Reery" "Opry-Boof," And old familiar songs and dances.

6.

Old "Red floss Mountain's" wrapped in gloom, And "Silas Pettibone's shef-doover" Has long since vanished from the room With "Casey" and "Three-fingered Hoover."

7.

Yet will they live! Though Field depart; Thousands his memory will cherish; The gentle poet of the heart Shall live till life and language perish.

C.S.T._

The initials are those of Mr. Charles S. Todd, of Texarkana, Texas; and the poem, besides testifying to the wide-spread sorrow over Field's death, bears witness to the fact that his western dialect verse had a hold on the popular heart only second to his lullabies and poems of childhood.

From the Fourth Presbyterian Church Field's body was borne to its last resting-place, in Graceland cemetery. It is a quiet spot where the poet is interred, in a lovely little glade, away from the sorrowful processions of the main driveways. Leafy branches wave above his grave, shielding it from the glare of the sun in summer and the rude sweep of the winds in winter. The birds flit across it from tree to tree, casting "strange, flutterin' shadders" over the grave of him who loved them so well. And there, one day in the early summer, another bird-lover, Edward B. Clark, heard a wood-thrush, the sweetest of American songsters, singing its vesper hymn, and was moved out of his wont himself to sing:

_THE TRIBUTE OF THE THRUSH

A bird voice comes from the maple Across the green of the sod, Breaking the silence of evening That rests on this "acre of God." 'Tis the note of the bird of the woodland, Of thickets and sunless retreats; Yet the plashing of sunlit waters Is the sound of the song it repeats.

Why sing you here in the open, O gold-tongued bird of the shade; What spirit moves you to echo This hymn from the angels strayed? And then as the shadows lengthened, The thrush made its answer clear: "There was void in the world of music, A singer lies voiceless here."_

Thus endeth this inadequate study of my gentle and joyous friend, "the good knight, sans peur et sans monnaie."



APPENDIX

The two articles by Eugene Field which follow here are not to be taken as particularly illuminating examples of his literary art or style. For those the reader is referred to his collected works; especially those tales and poems published during his lifetime and to "The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac." These are given to illustrate the liberties Field took with his living friends and with the verities of literary history. There was no such book as the "Ten Years of a Song Bird: Memoirs of a Busy Life," by Emma Abbott; and "The Discoverer of Shakespeare," by Franklin H. Head, was equally a creation of Field's lively fancy. I reproduce the latter review from the copy which Field cut from the Record and sent in pamphlet form to Mr. Head with the following note:

DEAR MR. HEAD: The printers jumbled my review of your essay so fearfully to-day that I make bold to send you the review straightened out in seemly wise. Now, I shall expect you to send me a copy of the book when it is printed, and then I shall feel amply compensated for the worry which the hotch-potch in the Daily News of this morning has given me.

Ever sincerely yours,

EUGENE FIELD. May 21st, 1891.

WHO DISCOVERED SHAKESPEARE?

Mr. Franklin H. Head is about to publish his scholarly and ingenious essay upon "The Discoverer of Shakespeare." Mr. Head is as enthusiastic a Shakespeare student as we have in the West, and his enthusiasm is tempered by a certain reverence which has led him to view with dismay, if not with horror, the exploits of latter-day iconoclasts, who would fain convince the credulous that what has been was not and that he who once wrought never existed. It was Mr. Head who gave to the world several years ago the charming brochure wherein Shakespeare's relations and experience with insomnia were so pleasantly set forth, and now the public is to be favored with a second essay, one of greater value to the Shakespearian student, in that it deals directly and intimately and explicitly with the earlier years of the poet's life. This essay was read before the Chicago Literary Club several weeks ago, and would doubtless not have been published but for the earnest solicitations of General McClurg, the Rev. Dr. Herrick Johnson, Colonel J.S. Norton, and other local literary patrons, who recognized Mr. Head's work as a distinctly valuable contribution to Shakespeariana. Answering the importunities of these sagacious critics, the author will publish the essay, supplementing it with notes and appendices.

Of the interesting narrative given by Mr. Head, it is our present purpose to make as complete a review as the limits afforded us this morning will allow, and we enter into the task with genuine timidity, for it is no easy thing to give in so small a compass a fair sketch of the tale and the argument which Mr. Head has presented so entertainingly, so elegantly, and so persuasively.

Before his courtship of, and marriage with, Anne Hathaway, Shakespeare was comparatively unknown. By a few boon companions he was recognized as a gay and talented young fellow, not wholly averse to hazardous adventure, as his famous connection with a certain poaching affair demonstrated. Shakespeare's father was a pious man, who was properly revered by his neighbors. The son was not held in such high estimation by these simple folk. "Willie, thee beest a merry fellow," quoth the parson to the young player when he first came back from London, "but thee shall never be soche a man as thy father."

Down in London his friends were of the rollicking, happy-go-lucky kind; they divided their time between the play-houses and the pot-houses; they lived by their wits, and they were not the first to demonstrate that he who would enjoy immortality must first have learned to live by his wits among mortals. It was while he led this irresponsible bachelor life in London that Shakespeare met one Elizabeth Frum, or Thrum, and with this young woman he appears to have fallen in love. The affair did not last very long, but it was fierce while it was on. Anne Hathaway was temporarily forgotten, and Mistress Frum (whose father kept the Bell and Canister) engaged—aye, absorbed—the attentions of the frisky young poet. At that time Shakespeare was spare of figure, melancholy of visage, but lively of demeanor; an inclination to baldness had already begun to exhibit itself, a predisposition hastened and encouraged doubtless by that disordered digestion to which the poet at an early age became a prey by reason of his excesses. Elizabeth Frum was deeply enamoured of Willie, but the young man soon wearied of the girl and returned to his first love. Curiously enough, Elizabeth subsequently was married to Andrew Wilwhite of Stratford-on-Avon, and lived up to the day of her death (1636) in the house next to the cottage occupied by Anne Hathaway Shakespeare and her children! Wilwhite was two years younger than Shakespeare; he was the son of a farmer, was fairly well-to-do, and had been properly educated. Perhaps more for the amusement than for the glory or for the financial remuneration there was in it, he printed a modest weekly paper which he named "The Tidings"—"an Instrument for the Spreading of Proper New Arts and Philosophies, and for the Indication and Diffusion of What Haps and Hearsays Soever Are Meet for Chronicling Withal." This journal was of unpretentious appearance, and its editorial tone was modest to a degree. The size of the paper was eight by twelve inches, four pages, with two columns to the page. The type used in the printing was large and coarse, but the paper and ink seem to have been of the best quality. A complete file of The Tidings does not survive. The British Museum has all but the third, eleventh, twelfth, and seventeenth volumes; the Newberry Library of Chicago has secured the first, seventh, sixteenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth volumes, and the Duke of Devonshire has half-a-dozen volumes. Aside from these copies none other is known to be in existence.

Wilwhite was an ardent and life-long admirer of Shakespeare. It is not improbable that after her marriage Elizabeth Frum, proud of her former relations with the poet, encouraged her husband in those cordial offices which helped to promote Shakespeare's contemporaneous fame. At any rate, The Tidings was the first public print to recognize Shakespeare's genius, and Andrew Wilwhite was the first of Shakespeare's contemporaries to give public expression to his admiration and abiding faith in the talents of the poet.

"We print in our supplement to-day a sonnet from the pen of Willie Shakespeare, son of our esteemed townsman, Squire John Shakespeare. Willie is now located in London, and is recognized as one of the brightest constellations in the literary galaxy of the metropolis."—The Tidings, May 18th, 1587.

"Mistress Shakespeare laid an egg on our table yesterday measuring eleven inches in circumference. The amiable and accomplished wench informs us that her husband, whose poetic genius frequently illuminates these columns, will visit our midst next month. William, here is our [hand pointing to the right]."—The Tidings, June 13th, 1587.

"The gifted W. Shaxpur honored this office with a call last Thursday. He was smiling all over. It is a boy, and weighs ten pounds. Thanks, Willie, for the cigar; it was a daisy."—The Tidings, July 9th, 1587.

"The fireworks on Squire Shakespere's lawn last Fourth of July night were the finest ever witnessed in the county. They were brought up from London by the Squire's son William, the famous poet."—Ibid.

"If you want to make Bill Shaxpeare hopping mad, just ask him how much venison is a pound. All joking aside, Willie is the leading poet of the age."—The Tidings, July 16th, 1587.

Two years later the following references were made by Wilwhite to the dramatic prodigy:

"We would acknowledge the receipt (from Isaac Jaggard and Edward Blount, the well-known publishers) of a volume entitled, 'The First Part of King Henry the Sixt,' the same being a dramatic poem by Willie Shaxper, formerly of this town. Critique of the work is deferred."—April 23d, 1589.

"Our London exchanges agree that Willie Shaksper's new play is the greatest thing of the season. We knew that Willie would get there sooner or later. There are no flies on him."—April 23d, 1589.

"The Thespian Amateur association of the Congregational church will give a performance of 'King Henry Sixt' in the town hall next Thursday evening. Reuben Bobbin, our talented tinsmith, enacting the role of his majesty. This play, being written by one of our townsmen and the greatest poet of the age; should be patronized by all. Ice-cream will be served inter actes."—November 6th, 1589.

"We print elsewhere to-day an excerpt from the Sadler's Wells Daily Blowpipe, critically examining into the literary work of W. Shakspeyr, late of this village. The conclusion reached by our discriminating and able exchange is that Mr. Shackspeere is without question a mighty genius. We have said so all along, and we have known him ten years. Now that the Metropolitan press indorses us, we wonder what will the doddering dotard of the Avon Palladium have to say for his festering and flyblown self."—December 14th, 1589.

In 1592 the Palladium reprinted an opinion given by Robert Greene: "Here is an upstart crow," said Greene of Shakespeare, "beautified with our feathers, that supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the rest of you, and, being an absolute Johannes factotum, is, in his own conceit, the only shake-scene in the country." Another contemporaneous critic said of the scene between Brutus and Cassius in "Julius Caesar": "They are put there to play the bully and the buffoon, to show their activity of face and muscles. They are to play a prize, a trial of skill and hugging and swaggering, like two drunken Hectors, for a two-penny reckoning." Shakespeare's contemporaries—or, at least, many of them—sought to belittle his work in this wise. Why, even in later years so acute a critic as John Dennis declared that "his lines are utterly void of celestial fire," and Shaftesbury spoke of his "rude, unpolished style and antiquated phrase and wit."

In the year 1600, having written his chef d'oeuvre, the poet retired to Stratford for a brief period of rest.

"Our distinguished poet-townsman, Shakespyr, accompanied us on an angling last Thursday, and ye editor returned well-laden with spoils. Two-score trouts and a multitude of dace and chubs were taken. Spending the night at the Rose and Crown, we were hospitably entertained by Jerry Sellars and his estimable lady, who have recently added a buttery to their hostelry, and otherwise adorned the premises. Over our brew in the evening the poet regaled us with reminiscences of life in London, and recited certain passages from his melancholy history of Hamlet, prince of Denmark, the same being a new and full mournful tragedic of mightie excellence."—The Tidings, May 13th, 1600.

In the London News-Letter, September 6th, 1600, there occurred this personal notice: "At the Sweet Briar coffee-house Mr. A. Wilwhite, from Stratford-on-Avon, sojourneth as the guest of William Shack-speyr, player." About the same time Ben Jonson wrote to Dick Craven at Canterbury: "Andrew Wilwhite hath been with us amid great cheer and merriment, the same being that he saith he was the one that discovered our master, Will Shackpur, and that I do for a verity believe, for that Shakspur is vastly beholden unto him, and speaketh of him as he were a twin-brother or one by some great office bounden unto him."

Wilwhite went on Shakespeare's bond in 1604, in certain property transfers involving what was then regarded as a considerable sum of money. The same year an infant Shakespeare was named after Wilwhite, the second daughter in the family having already been christened Elizabeth Wilwhite. From 1605 up to the time of the poet's death, eleven years later, nearly every issue of The Tidings bristled with friendly notices of "our eminent townsman," "our world-famed Shakespeare," and "our immortal poet." Shakespeare lived in Stratford those last years; he was well-to-do; he had prospered, and his last days were passed serenely. The musty files of that rurally candid little paper bear pleasing testimony to the Arcadian simplicity of the noble bard's declining years. They tell us with severe brevity of the trifling duties and recreations that engaged the poet. We learn that "a new and handsome front gate has been put up on the premises of our famous Shakspear"; that "our honored townsman-poet hath graciously contributed three-and-sixpence toward the mending of the town pump"; that "a gloom hath been cast over the entire community by the bone-felon upon Mr. Shaikspur's left thumb"; that "our immortal Shakespeere hath well discharged the onerous offices of road-overseer for the year past"; that "our sweete friend, Will Shakespear, will go fishing for trouts to-morrow with his good gossip, Ben Jonson, that hath come to be his guest a little season"; that "Master W. Shackspur hath a barrow that upon the slaughtering did weigh 400 weight"; that "the laylocks in the Shaxpur yard being now in bloom filleth the air with delectable smells, whereby the poet is mightily joyed in that he did plant and nurture the same," etc., etc.

"Sweet were those declining years," writes the essayist; "sweet in their homely moderate delights, sweet in their wholesome employments, sweet in their peacefulness and repose. But sweeter and holier yet were they in the loyalty of a friendship that, covering a long period of endeavor, of struggle and adversity, survived to illumine and to glorify, as it has been a quenchless flame, the evening of the poet's life. An o'erturned stone, upon which the ivy seeks to hide the ravages which time has made, marks the spot where Wilwhite sleeps the last gracious sleep of humanity. Now and again wayfarers, straying thence, wonder whose dust it is that mingles with the warmth of Mother Earth beneath that broken tablet. And while they wonder there amid the hush, which only the music of the birds profanes, and with the fragrance of wild flowers all around, love is fulfilled and loyalty perfected; for beyond the compass of years they that wrought together and were true abide in sweet companionship eternally."

EUGENE FIELD. May 20th, 1891.

The review of Miss Abbott's fictitious autobiography needs no further introduction, save the statement that the only parts of it that are based on fact are those which refer to the high esteem in which its subject—or shall I say its victim?—was held by Field and the names and relations of the parties mentioned. If the reader cares to compare some of the phrases used in this autobiography with others quoted from the proceedings in the Vermont litigation in the early chapters of this book, he will find striking evidence of the persistence of literary expression in the Field family:

REVIEW OF THE MEMOIRS OF MISS EMMA ABBOTT.

The advance sheets of Miss Abbott's biography have been sent to us by the publishers. This volume, consisting of 868 pages, is entitled, "Ten Years a Song Bird: Memoirs of a Busy Life, by Emma Abbott." It will be put upon the market in time to catch what is called the holiday trade, and we hope it will have that enormous sale to which its merits entitle it. It is altogether a charming book—it reads like a woman's letters, so full is it of confidence couched in the artless, easy, unpretentious language of femininity. The style is so unconscious that at times it really seems as if, attired in wrapper and slippers, the fair narrator were lolling back in an easy-chair talking these interesting things into your friendly ear.

Miss Abbott is a lady for whom we have had for a number of years—ever since her debut as a public singer—the highest esteem. She is one of the most conscientious of women in her private walk, conscientious in every relationship and duty and practice that go to make the sum of her daily life. This conscientiousness, involving patience, humility, perseverance, and integrity, has been, we think, the real secret of her success. And no one who has watched her steady rise from poverty to affluence, and from obscurity to fame, will deny the proposition that the woman is genuinely successful; and successful, too, in the best sense, and by hard American methods. However, it shall be our attempt not to suffer our warm personal regard for this admirable lady to color too highly our professional estimate of the literary work now before us.

Although the "Memoirs of a Busy Life" purports to be a review merely of the period of Miss Abbott's career as a prima donna, there are three prefatory chapters wherein are detailed quite elaborately the incidents of her girl-life and of her early struggles. This we view with particular approval, the more in especial because, since Miss Abbott's achievement of fame, a number of hitherto obscure localities have claimed distinction as being the place of her birth. Miss Abbott records this historical fact: "It was on the first day of June, 1858, the month of flowers, of song and of bridals, in the then quiet hamlet of Peoria, whose shores are laved by the waters of the peaceful Illinois river and whose sun-kissed hills melt away into the clouds—it was then and there that I was ushered into life." The old family nurse, one Barbara Deacon (for whom the grateful cantatrice has abundantly provided), recalls that at the very moment of the infant's birth a strangely beautiful bird fluttered down from a pear-tree, alighting upon the window-sill, and caroled forth a wondrous song, hearing which the infant (mirabile dictu!) turned over in its crib and accompanied the winged songster's melody with an accurate second alto. This incident Miss Abbott repeats as one of the many legends bearing upon her infancy; but, with that admirable practical sense so truly characteristic of her, she adds: "Of course I repose no confidence in this story—I have always taken this bird's tale cum grano salis."

In early childhood Emma exhibited a passion for music; at three years of age she discoursed upon the piano-forte in such a manner as to excite the marvel of all auditors. The teacher of the village school at that time was one Eugene F. Baldwin, who, being somewhat of a musician and an accomplished tenor singer of the old school, discovered the genius of this child, and did all he could to develop and encourage it. When she began to go to school Emma indicated that she had an apt, acquisitive, and retentive mind; she progressed rapidly in her studies, but her health was totally inadequate, so at the age of twelve years she was compelled to abandon her studies. Shortly thereafter she removed with her family to Chicago. In this city Emma lived for four years, during most of which time she received instruction in vocalism from the venerable Professor Perkins. On several occasions she sang in public, and the papers complimented her as the "Child Patti." When she was sixteen years old Emma went East with the determination to make her own living. All she had she carried in a homely carpet-bag—"nay, not all," she adds, "for I had a strong heart and a willing hand." Her mother had taught her to do well whatsoever she did." I could cook well, and scrub well, and sew well," she says, "and now I was resolved to learn to sing well. At any rate, I was going to make a living, for if I failed at all else I could cook or sew or scrub." That's pluck of the noblest kind!

Emma was a devoutly religious girl; she joined the Rev. Dr. Bellow's church soon after her arrival in Brooklyn, and presently secured a position in the choir of the church. The members of the congregation soon began to take more than a passing interest in her, being attracted more and more by the sweetness of her singing and the saintliness of her beauty and by the circumspection and modesty of her demeanor. One member of the congregation (and we now come to an interesting period in our heroine's life) was a young druggist named Wetherell—Eugene Wetherell—who became deeply enamoured of the spirituelle choir-singer. He was handsome, talented, and pious, and to these charms Emma very properly was not wholly insensible. With commendable candor she told young Wetherell that she had certain high ambitions or duties which she was determined to follow at the sacrifice of every selfish consideration; if he were willing to wait for her until she saw her way clear to the accomplishment of those duties, she would then link her destiny indissolubly with his. To this the young druggist acceded.

In 1877 Emma was enabled to go to Paris to perfect her music studies. Certain wealthy members of Dr. Bellow's church provided her with the financial means, which she accepted as a loan, to be paid in due season. In chapter four of the memoirs we are regaled with an instructive record of Emma's voyage across the Atlantic, her admiration of the magnitude of the ocean, her consciousness of man's utter helplessness should storms arise and drive the ship upon hidden rocks, etc., etc. In the next chapter she laments the exceeding depravity of Paris, and expresses wonderment that in so fair a city humanity should abandon itself to such godless and damnable practices. These things we refer to because they show the serious, not to say pious, trend of the young woman's mind. In one place she says: "I thank God that my Eugene is tending a drug-store in Brooklyn instead of being surrounded by the divers temptations of this modern Babylon; for, circumspect and pure though he may be by nature, hardly could he be environed by all this wretchedness without receiving some taint therein."

While she was in Paris she became acquainted with the great Gounod and with the brilliant but erratic Offenbach. Gounod introduced her to many of the greatest composers and singers. Among her friendliest acquaintances she numbered Wagner and Liszt. The latter wrote her a sonata to sing, and Wagner tried to get her permission for him to introduce her into the trilogy he was then at work upon. Meissonier made an exquisite study of her, and the younger Dumas made her the heroine of one of his brightest comedies, "La Petite Americaine." There was one man, however, whom our heroine would not suffer to be introduced to her; that man was Zola. She would never recognize in her list of acquaintances, so she told Gounod with an angry stamp of her tiny foot, any man who debased his God-given talents to smut and lubricity.

In 1879 Miss Abbott returned to her native land, fully prepared to engage in the profession of a public singer. Her first tour of the country was a continuous round of ovations. The public hailed her as the queen of American song; the press was generous in its appreciation. The next year she embarked in opera. This cost her a season of severe self-struggle. She dreaded to expose herself to the temptations of the stage. In her memoirs she assures us with all gravity that she prayed long and earnestly for courage to put on and wear the short dress required in the performance of the "Bohemian Girl." We may smile at this feminine squeamishness; yet, after all, we cannot help admiring the possessor of it wherever we find her.

Miss Abbott says that she was particularly fortunate in having secured Mr. James W. Morrissey for her manager. This young man was full of energy and of device; moreover, he was personally acquainted with many of the journalists throughout the country. He was with Miss Abbott three years, and she acknowledges herself under great obligations to him. "It is pleasant," she writes, "to feel that our friendship still exists, as hearty and as generous as ever; and that it will abide to the end I doubt not, for, by naming his little son Abbott in honor of me, my dear, good, kind Jimmy Morrissey has simply welded more closely the bonds of friendship uniting us." These words are characteristic of honest Emma Abbott's candor.

In these memoirs there is a chapter devoted to the newspaper critics, and it is interesting to note the good-nature with which the sprightly cantatrice handles these touchy gentlemen. Not an unkind word is said; occasionally a foible or a trait is hit off, but all is done cleverly and in the most genial temper. Considerable space is devoted to the Chicago critics—Messrs. Upton, Mathews, McConnell, and Gleason—who, Miss Abbott says, have helped her with what they have written about her. Messrs. Moore, Johns, and Jennings, of St. Louis; R.M. Field, of Kansas City; William Stapleton, of Denver; Alf Sorenson, of Cincinnati, are prominent among the western critics whom she specifies as her "dear, good friends." She calls upon heaven to bless them.

There is a chapter (the thirteenth) which tells how a public singer should dress; we wish we had the space for liberal quotations from this interesting essay, because this is a subject which all the ladies are anxious to know all about. Miss Abbott ridicules the idea that the small-waisted dress is harmful to the wearer. Women breathe with their lungs, and do not enlist the co-operation of the diaphragm, as men do. So, therefore, it matters not how tight a woman laces her waist so long as she insists that her gown be made ample about the bust; nay, the fair author maintains that the singer has a better command of her powers, and is more capable of sustained exertion, when her waist is girt and cinched to the very limit. Of course, knowing nothing whatsoever of this thing, we are wholly incompetent to discuss the subject. It interests us to know that Miss Abbott's theory is indorsed by Worth, Madame Demorest, Dr. Hamilton, and other recognized authorities.

Of her married life the famous prima donna speaks tenderly and at length; she is evidently of a domestic nature; she says she pines for the day when she can retire to a quiet little home, and devote herself to children and to household duties. An affectionate tribute is paid to her husband, Mr. Wetherell, to whom she was wedded just before her debut in opera; he has been a constant solace and help, she says, and no disagreement or harshness has ruffled the felicity of their holy relation. In the appendix to the memoirs are to be found letters addressed at different times to Miss Abbott by Patti, Gounod, Kellogg, Longfellow, Jenny Lind, Nilsson, Wagner, Dumas, Brignoli, Liszt, and other notables. Numerous fine steel portraits add value to the volume.

In a word, this book serves as a delightful history of the time of which it treats. It gives us pictures of places, manners, and morals, and chats with distinguished men and women. Better than this, it is the reflex of an earnest life and of a stanch, pure heart, challenging our admiration, and worthy of our emulation.



INDEX

Abbott, Miss Emma, a friend of Field, i., 228, 346; Field's review of her imaginary autobiography, ii., 332-340 "Ailsie, My Bairn," ii., 129 Aldrich, Thomas Bailey, i., 134 "Alliaunce, The," ii., 124-126 "An Appreciation" of Eugene Field, i., 201 "April Vespers," i., 129, 130 Archer, Belle, i., 249 Arion Quartette, formed by Field and others, i., 113 Armour, George A., ii., 173 Auer, Louis, ii., 294 "Aunt Mary Matilda Series," ii., 28, 35 "Auto-Analysis, An," i., 51, 99, 106; reference to Field's early verse, 135, 227; origin and publication of, ii., 234-240 "Awful Bugaboo, The," i., 152, 153

Baker, Thomas C., i., 113 Ballantyne, John F., i., 206; his relations with Field, 207, 208; his office, 215; hero of "How Mary Matilda Won a Prince," ii., 36; married, 89, 90 "Bar Harbor: A Reminiscence," ii., 212, 213 Barrett, Wilson, ii., 276, 277 Barnes, Charles A., ii., 173 Barnum, P.T., ii., 153 Barren, Elwin, i., 285 Bates, Mrs. Morgan, entertains Field, ii., 84-86 Bates, Morgan, i., 216, 282; suffers from his political attitude, ii., 223, 224 Below, Mrs., i., 101, 105 Bernhardt, Madame, i., 173, 243 "Bibliomaniac's Prayer, The," ii., 170, 171 Bikens, Judge, i., 27 Bingham, Joseph, ii., 226, 227 Blaine, James G., ii., 10, 11, 217; defeated in his campaign for the Presidency, 221 Blair, Montgomery, i., 44 Bristol, Rev. Frank M., ii., 173; delivers address at Field's funeral, 315 Broderick, Mr. and Mrs. George, i., 249 Browne, Francis, proposes to publish Field's writings, ii., 56 Burdette, Robert J., i., 134 Burgess, Professor John W., i., 78 Burke, Judge Henry W., association with Field, i., 115 Buskett, William C., hero of "Penn Yan Bill," i., 112; describes Field's life in St. Louis, 112-114; receives letter from Field, ii., 161, 162

Cable, Ben. T., ii., 173 Cable, George W., ii., 265 "Camille," i., 241-245 Capel, Monseigneur, his meeting with William J. Florence, i., 231 "Casey's Table d'Hote," i., 112 Charless, Joseph, i., 41 Chicago, Field comes to, i., 189; description of, 194-197 Chicago Daily News, description of editorial rooms of, i., 211-218 "Christmas Treasures," i., 135 Clark, Edward B., ii., 320 Claxton, Kate, her reputation as an actress, i., 260; biography of, 261, 262 Cleveland, Grover, ii., 217; elected President, 221 Cleveland, Miss Rose, retires from editorship of Literary Life, ii., 106 Comstock, Miss Carrie, i., 104, 113 Comstock, Edgar V., visits Europe with Field, i., 98-100, 104, 113 Comstock, Miss Georgia, i., 104, 113 Comstock, Miss Gussle, i., 104, 113 Comstock, Miss Ida, i., 104 Comstock, Miss Julia Sutherland, i., 104; married to Eugene Field, 109 Cooley, Judge, responsible for some of Field's poems, i., 331-337; ii., 112 Cowen, E.D., characterizes Field, i., 143; accounts for inspiration of Tribune Primer, 147; describes Field's bottomless chair, 159; tells of Wickersham's methods, 163; writes of Field's ill-health, 185; assaulted, 209, 210; analyzes Field's dramatic relations, 227; bowls against Field, ii., 74, 76; attends ball-game with Field, 77-79; an experience with crickets, 86, 87; receives letters from Field, 119, 120, 139-142, 144-146, 148, 149, 158, 159 Crane, Mr. and Mrs. William, acquaintance with Field, i., 235-241; "Mrs. Billy Crane," 237-239 Crawford, Thomas L., joins Arion Quartette, i., 113 "Culture's Garland," i., 338; description of, ii., 108-113; Gen. A.C. McClurg's objection to, 175 "Current Gossip" becomes "Sharps and Flats," i., 201 Curtis, George Ticknor, i., 44

Dana, Charles A., visits Denver, i., 179, 180; assists Field in a hoax, 337; subscribes to the "Little Books," ii., 132 "Danger that Threatens, A," i., 339, 340 Davis, Jessie Bartlett, i., 255 Davis, Mrs. Will J., i., 254 Davis, Will J., i., 61 Dawson, R. L., ii., 101 "Death and the Soldier," ii., 101 "Delectable Ballad of the Waller Lot, The," ii., 269 De Koven, Reginald, ii., 240 Denver, description of, i., 144, 145; centre of railway interests, 162 "Der Niebelrungen und Der Schlabbergasterfeldt," ii., 23, 24 "Dibdin's Ghost," ii., 195, 190 "Divine Lullaby," i., 337 Drew, Cyrus K., ii., 276 Du Chaillu, Paul, ii., 197

Earle, Alice Morse, i., 1; letter from Eugene Field, 56 "Echo from Mackinac Island, An," ii., 57, 58 "Echoes from the Sabine Farm," i., 2; dedication of, 93, 94; publication of, ii., 155-157, 165, 166 Ela, John W., a Mugwump, ii., 218-220 Ellsworth, James W., ii., 173 Emerson, Dr. John, owner of Dred Scott, i., 37 "Eugene Field," a tribute by a Texan, ii., 318, 319 "Eugene Field in His Home," i., 101 Evans, Governor, i., 147

"Fickle Woman, A," i., 332 Field, Charles Kellogg, uncle of Eugene Field, i., 2; education, 5, 9, 10; studies law, 10; capacity for mischief, 48; his memoir of Roswell M. Field, ii., 262, 263 Field, Miss Kate, her acquaintance with Eugene Field, i., 174, 175; subscribes to the "Little Books," ii., 132 Field, Eugene, ancestry, i., 2; birthplace, 50, 51; doubt as to date of birth, 51, 52; death of mother, 52, 53; cared for by Miss French, 53; early youth in Newfane and Amherst, 54-60; fondness for pets, 60-65; religious training, 66-69; sentiments toward Vermont and New England, 69-71; education under Mr. Tufts at Monson, 73-78; enters Williams College, 78; anecdotes of college life, 79-84; lack of interest in studies, 79-81; leaves Williams, 81; summoned to deathbed of father, 84; enters Knox College, 84; joins brother at University of Missouri, 85; severs connection with the University, 85; indication of literary genius, 86-90; life in St. Louis, 91-98; fascination for the stage, 95-97; inherits $8,000, makes a tour of Europe, and squanders his patrimony, 98-100; returns to St. Louis, 100; descriptions of his trip, 101, 102; affection for the fair sex, 103-106; courtship and marriage, 105-109; honeymoon, 109, 110; investment of $20,000 on experience, 111; goes to work as reporter on St. Louis Evening Journal, 112; description of early married life in St. Louis, 112, 113, 121; love of fun, 113-117, 118; members of household, 113; fondness for singing, 114; his children, 114, 121, 122, 191; ii., 255-258, 261, 278, 279; city editor of St. Joseph Gazette, i., 114; returns to St. Louis and continues writing for the Evening Journal, 115, 116; lack of business ability, 116; attack by the Spectator, 117-119; reply to the same, 120; becomes managing editor of Kansas City Times, 122, 136; his home relations, 122-125; method of reporting, 126, 127; whimsical verses and fancies, 128-131; misreports and plays practical jokes on Carl Schurz, 131-133; character of his early journalistic work, 133-135; revels in Kansas City, 130-138; writes "The Little Peach," 139; Greek translation and English equivalent of same, 140-142; moves to Denver and becomes managing editor of The Denver Tribune, 143-145; writes "Odds and Ends," 145-151; his "Tribune Primer," 146-152; his views on journalism, 149, 150; creates the "Bugaboo," 151-153; his friendship for Madame Modjeska, 154; writes "The Wanderer," 154, 155; credits "The Wanderer" to Madame Modjeska, 154-157; anecdotes of his life in Denver, 158-182; description of his office, 158, 159; his acquaintance with "Bill" Nye, 159-161; his inability to keep money, 162; the Wickersham episode, 163-171; impersonates Oscar Wilde, 171-172; his dramatic qualifications and acquaintances, 173; his relations and correspondence with Miss Kate Field, 174, 175; his disposition, 175, 176; plays pranks on Wolfe Londoner, 176-180; gives a single-handed entertainment at Manitou, 181, 182; his hatred of hypocrisy, 182; ii., 314; failure of health, i., 183-185; accepts position on the Chicago Morning News and leaves Denver, 183-189; ambition to achieve literary fame, 190; his home and family in Chicago, 191; introduces himself to the public, 191, 192; his favorite child, 192; means of increasing salary, 192, 193; ii., 7; reasons for staying in Chicago, i., 193-195; his objections to Chicago, 196-201; begins "Sharps and Flats," 201-203; his scholarship, 204, 205; held in check by John F. Ballantyne, 207-209; writes on assault of Edward D. Cowen, 209, 210; description of the editorial rooms of the Chicago Daily News, 211- 217; his office described, 218-220; his personal appearance and characteristics, 220-223; meets Christine Nilsson, 224-227; his fondness for stage folk, 227; invents tales respecting Emma Abbott, 228; his friendship with Francis Wilson, 229, 230; his relations with William Florence, 230-235; his friendship with the Cranes, 235-241; mutual friendship between Madame Modjeska and himself, 241-249; enjoys "The Mikado," 240-251; his favorite prima donna, 251-254; dedicates three poems to the Davises, 254-261; satires Kate Claxton, 261-262; impersonates Sir Henry Irving, 263, 264; his association with Sol Smith Russell, 264-270; lack of literary education, 271-274; studies early English literature, 275-278; makes acquaintance of Dr. Reilly, 279-280; inspired by Dr. Reilly, 282-293; his debt to Father Prout and Beranger, 282-288; ii., 116; tributes to Dr. Reilly, i., 289-293; his method of work, 294-300; love of the theatre, 300, 301; describes Billy Boyle's Chop-house, 301-305; partakes of midnight suppers, 307, 308; ii., 5; exposes Rutherford B. Hayes, i., 309; while absent from Chicago, learns a lesson, 310-313; derives profit from his play, 314-317; his aim in life, 315; evolution of his life and writings, 317; his keen appreciation of humor, 317-319; an international hoax, 320-323; foisters the authorship of "The Lost Sheep" on Miss Sally McLean, 324, 325; involves Miss Wheeler in a controversy, 326-328; methods of calling public attention to own compositions, 329-331; makes Judge Cooley responsible for some of his poems, 331-337; hoaxes Chicago critics, 337, 338; prophecies a danger, 339, 340; characterized by E.C. Stedman, 340, 341; comments on Mr. Stedman's visit to Chicago, 341-345; his companionship with Slason Thompson, ii., 1-14; presents a cherished wedding gift to Mrs. Thompson, 1, 2; condition of his finances, 6, 7; obtains advances on his salary, 7-9; embarrasses Slason Thompson with postal-cards, 9-11; plays a Christmas prank. 12-14; character of handwriting, 15, 16; origin of use of colored inks, 16-18; reproduces Corot's "St. Sebastian" and other pictures from written descriptions, 18-22; composes a German poem, 23, 24; his means of obtaining, and using, colored inks, 24-32; corresponds with Miss Thompson, 27, 28, 33, 34; two artistic efforts, 28-33; writes "Aunt Mary Matilda" series, 35, 36; character of his letters, 45; sends letters and poems to Slason Thompson, 47-58, 65-70, 77-105; dines at Thompson's expense, 53-55; dedicates two ballads to "The Fair Unknown," 59-64; his interest in baseball, 71-73; participates in the game of bowling, 73-76; describes a ball game, 77, 78, 80; plays a practical joke, 80, 81; verses to two of his friends, 82-84; celebrates Mrs. Morgan Bates' birthday, 84-80; his first appearance as a reader, 101, 102; discusses pronunciation of Goethe's name, 102; induces Miss Cleveland to retire from an editorship, 105, 106; publishes his first book, 107; description of "Culture's Garland," 108-114; resolves to master prose writing, 114, 115; writes a column of verse a day, 116-120; origin of "Little Boy Blue," 121; contributions to America, 122; invents "The Shadwell Folio," 122-129; proposes to privately publish two books of his verses and tales, 130, 131; responses to his appeal, 131-133; publishes his "Little Books," 133-137; his struggle with dyspepsia, 138; writes to E.D. Cowen concerning his proposed visit to Europe, 139- 142; and to Melvin L. Gray, 143, 144; arrives in London, 144-146; tells a story on James Whitcomb Riley, 147, 148; places his children in school, 148, 149; writes to Mr. Gray of his life in London, 149-153; tells yarns to Mrs. Humphry Ward, 153-155; publication of the limited edition of "Echoes from the Sabine Farm," 155-157, 165, 166; collects rarities, 158; death of his eldest son, 159-161; his return to Chicago, 161; prepares other books for publication, 162, 163; describes burial of his son, 163, 164; ill-health, 166; writes Christmas stories, 166-168; becomes a bibliomaniac, 169-171; frequents McClurg's store, 171; originates the "Saints' and Sinners' Corner," 173-175; his relations with William F. Poole, 175-177; saves a coveted book, 178; reports two imaginary meetings in the "Saints' and Sinners' Corner," 179-190; his theory regarding the buying of curios, 190-192; entertains the Saints and Sinners, 193-197; his politics, 198-201; his skill in writing political paragraphs, 202, 266; specimens of his political writings, 203-207; embarrasses a politician, 208, 209; plays pranks on General Logan, 209-212; assists General Logan, 213, 214; lampoons Judge Tree, 214-217; ridicules the Mugwumps, 218-222; becomes a Democrat, 221, 222; unburdens his feelings upon the subject of his political martyrdom, 223-229; describes M.E. Stone before and after Blaine's defeat, 224-226; writes a parody on "Jest 'fore Christmas," 229, 231; his description of politics and business in a country store, 231-233; his whimsical attitude toward serious questions, 233; demands for biographical data concerning himself, 234, 235; the result, "An Auto-Analysis," 235-240; inaccuracy of his statements, 240-242; his favorite authors, 242, 243; his aversion to brutality, 244; his love of music, 244, 245; starts to write a comic opera, 246-251; his tobacco habit, 252-254; love of children, 254-258; interviewed by Hamlin Garland, 259, 260; becomes aware of his failing health, 262-264; his struggle to provide for his family, 264; reads in public, 265; affected by beautiful weather, 266, 277; enjoys the World's Fair, 267, 268; his desire to own a home, 269-271; recovers from pneumonia, 271; visits California, 272-276; and New Orleans, 276-278; embarrasses Miss Jeffries, 277, 278; letters to Mr. Gray, 278-290; buys and remodels a house, 281-283; delayed by repairs from taking possession of his new home, 284-286; experiments with gardening, 286, 287; describes his home, 287-289; entertains Edward Everett Hale, 291-293; his desire to lead a more quiet life, 293-296; his strange collection of curios, 297-301; his autographs and books, 301; his taste in jewelry, 301, 302; stays at home, 302-304; gathers material for "The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac," 305, 306; specimens of his later paragraphs, 306, 307; spends an evening with Slason Thompson, 307, 308; defends "Bill" Nye, 309; feels sick, 310, 311; his death, 311-313; a true knight, 314; his religion, 315; his funeral, 316, 317; tributes by his friends, 314-320; his resting-place, 319, 320; reviews of two imaginary books, 321-340 Field, Eugene, letters of, to William C. Buskett, ii., 161, 162; to E.D. Cowen, 119, 120, 130-142, 144-146, 148, 149, 158, 159; to R.L. Dawson, 101, 102; to Mrs. Earle, i., 56; to Melvin L. Gray, 120; ii., 118, 119, 143, 144, 149-153, 162-165, 166, 270, 274, 278-290; to Edith Long, i., 64, 65; to Collins Shackelford, 217; to Miss Thompson, ii., 27, 28, 33, 34; to Slason Thompson, 47-58, 63-70, 77-105 Field, Henry, appreciates Field's artistic efforts, ii., 22 Field, General Martin, grandfather of Eugene Field, i., 2; letter to daughter Mary, 8, 9; troubles with sons, 4-8 Field, Mary, aunt of Eugene Field, i., 5, 8, 9; assumes care of Eugene and Roswell Field, 53; description of, 54; lives with Eugene Field, 113 Field, Roswell Martin, father of Eugene Field, birth-place and parentage, i., 2; brother Charles, 4, 5, 9; education, 5, 9, 10; sister Mary, 8, 9; practices law, 10, 11; accomplishments, 11; first love-affair, 13-22; secretly married, 23-33; marriage annulled, 33, 34; emigrates to Missouri, 35; opinions on slavery, 37; defends Dred Scott, 37-44; tributes by his associates, 45-47; marries Miss Frances Reed, 49; children, 49, 50; death of, 84; memoir of, by his brother, ii., 262, 263 Field, Roswell Martin, Jr., brother of Eugene Field, birth, i., 50; early education, 54-60; student at University of Missouri, 85-86; advice from father concerning property, 111; his "Memory of Eugene Field," ii., 1; wishes to leave Kansas City, 142; contributes part of "Echoes from the Sabine Farm," 157, 162; becomes editorial writer on Times-Herald, 290 Fiske, John, his imaginary autobiography, ii., 238; his death, 238, 239 "First Christmas Tree, The," ii., 102 Florence, William, a friend of Eugene Field, i., 230; his meeting with Capel, 231; his love of good living, 232-235 "For the Little Folks," i., 147 Forrest, Edwin, i., 95, 96 French, Mary Field, i., 8, 9 "Funny Fancies," i., 130, 134

Garland, Hamlin, i., 155; reports an imaginary conversation with Field, ii., 259, 260 Gaston, George, i., 137, 138 "George Millard is Home!" ii., 172, 173 Gilbert, William S., receives credit for Field's "April Vespers," i., 129 "Golden Week, The," ii., 117, 129 "Good Knight and His Lady," i., 121-124 "Good Knight and the Fair Unknown, The," ii., 59 "Good Knight's Diplomacy," ii., 45, 46 "Good Knight to Sir Slosson, The," ii., 3, 4 "Good Sir Slosson's Episode with the Garrulous Sir Barbour, The," ii., 50, 51 Gray, Mrs. Melvin L., i., 71, 92, 03, 103; ii., 274 Gray, Melvin L., i., 92-94, 99; financial difficulties with Field, 116, 117; letters from Field, 120; ii., 118, 119, 143, 144, 149-153, 162-163, 166, 270, 274, 278-290; assists Field to buy a home, 281 et seq. Greene, Clay M., i., 203 Griffin, Solomon B., describes Field at Williams, i., 82, 83 Gunsaulus, Rev. Frank W., ii., 173; describes the "Saints' and Sinners' Corner," 178; writes for the "Sharps and Flats" column, 305; tribute to Eugene Field, 317

Hale, Edward Everett, entertained by Field, ii., 291, 292 Hall, Rev. Thomas C., ii., 316 Hamilton, Judge Alexander, i., 40, 41 Harrison, Alice, i., 249, 250 Hawkins, Willis, i., 282; bowls with Field, ii., 74, 76; attends ball game with Field, 77, 78 Hawthorne, Julian, writes introduction for "Culture's Garland," ii., 110, 112 Hayes, Mrs. Rutherford B., admired by Field, i., 310 Hayes, Rutherford B., exposed by Field, i., 309 Head, Franklin II., his imaginary book reviewed by Field, ii., 321-331 "Holy Cross and Other Tales, The," ii., 265 Hopkins, President Mark, i., 79 "House, The," ii., 281, 282 "How Mary Matilda Won a Prince," ii., 35-43 "How the Good Knight Attended Upon Sir Slosson," ii., 62-64 "How the Good Knight Protected Sir Slosson's Credit," ii., 53, 54 Howells, William Dean, i., 134 Hull, Paul, i., 282 "Hushaby Song, A," 254, 255

Irving, Sir Henry, his tribute to Eugene Field, i., 263; mimicked by Field, 263, 264

James, Henry, i., 134 Jefferson, Joseph, i., 230; relates a story about William J. Florence, 234, 235 Jeffries, Miss Maude, embarrassed by one of Field's jokes, ii., 276-278 "Jest 'fore Election," a parody, ii., 229-231 Jewett, Miss Sara, i., 260 Joy, Major Moses, i., 24 Joyce, Colonel John A., i., 326-328

Kelley, Michael J., star of the Chicago Baseball Club, ii., 71-73 Kellog, Esther Smith, grandmother of Eugene Field, i., 2; character, 57; picture of, by Eugene Field, 57-59

Larned, Walter Cranston, describes the Walters gallery, ii., 16-21; Field reproduces his descriptions in colored inks, 18-21; presented with a work of art, 22 Lathrop, Barbour, ii., 51 Lawson, Victor F., i., 185, 186; ii., 132; acquires control of the Morning and Daily News, 222 "Little Book of Profitable Tales, A," i., 316; concerning publication of, ii., 130-137 "Little Book of Western Verse, A," i., 8, 93, 112, 157, 317, 337; ii., 1; concerning publication of, 130-137, 147 "Little Boy Blue," ii., 112; origin of, 121 "Little Peach, The," i., 139-141 Livingstone, John B., accounts for title of "Sharps and Flats," i., 201-203 Logan, General John A., victim of Field's pranks, ii., 209-212; "The Spy," 210, 211; "Logan's Lament," 212; aided by Field, 213-216; re-elected to the Senate, 216 Londoner, Wolfe, describes Field, i., 175, 176; victimized by Field, 176-179; story of his meeting with Charles A. Dana, 179, 180 "Lonesome Little Shoe, The," title-page of, ii., 35 Long, Edith, letter to Eugene Field, i., 63, 64; reply to same, 64, 65 "Lost Schooner, The," ii., 127, 128 "Lost Sheep, The," il., 324 "Love and Laughter," i., 326 "Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac, The," i., 317; ii., 305 "Love Plaint," i., 228, 220 "Love Songs of Childhood," ii., 265, 278, 280 "Lyrics of a Convalescent," ii., 276

McClurg, General A.C., ii., 56; knowledge of rare books, 172; disapproves of "Culture's Garland," 174, 175; as a Mugwump, 218-220 McClurg, A.C., & Co.'s bookstore, i., 275; ii., 56; gutted by fire, 177, 178 MacKenzie, Sir Morell, prescribes for William Florence, i., 233 McLean, Sally Pratt, alleged author of "The Lost Sheep," i., 324, 325 McPhelim, Edward J., ii., 4 MacVeagh, Franklin, ii., 218 "Maecenas," i., 285, 286 "Margaret, a Pearl," ii., 115 "Markessy di Pullman," ii., 112 "Marthy's Younkit," ii., 117; dedicated to E. D. Cowen, 141 Mason, David H., his small handwriting, ii., 15, 16 "Merciful Lad, The," ii., 113, 114 "Mikado, The," i., 249, 250 Millard, George M., ii., 171, 172; "George Millard is Home!" 172, 173 Modjeska, Madame, i., 154; her attitude toward "The Wanderer." 156, 157; her friendship with Field, 242, 249; "To Helena Modjeska," 246, 247 Moon, Mrs. Temperance, i., 50 Morgan, Edward B., gives origin of "Odds and Ends," i., 146, 147 Morris, Clara, in "Camille," i., 243 "Mortality," i., 332 "Mountain and the Sea," ii., 115, 202 "Mr. Peattie's Cape," ii., 82

"New Baby, The," i., 128 Newfane, village of, i., 2-4 "Night Wind, The," ii., 308 Nilsson, Christine, meets Eugene Field, i., 224-227 "Noontide Hymn, A," ii., 245 Norton, Colonel J.S., a victim of Field, i., 320; "To Eugene Field," 323; makes a presentation speech, ii., 22 Nye, "Bill," meets Eugene Field, i., 159-161; ii., 265; defended by Field, 309

"Old English Lullaby," ii., 129 "Old Sexton," i., 113 "Ossian's Serenade," i., 114 "Our Two Opinions," i., 267

Peattie, Mr. and Mrs. Robert, objects of a practical joke, ii., 80, 81; verses to, 82, 83 "Penn Yan Bill," i., 112 "Piteous Appeal of a Forsooken Habbit, Ye," ii., 2, 121 Plumbe, George E., i., 212 Poole, William F., i., 212; his relations with Field, ii., 175-177 "'Possum Jim," i., 167, 169 "Proposed Cure for Bibliomania," ii., 182-190

Ralph, Julian, describes Field's curios, ii., 298 Ranney, Mrs. Deacon, i., 58 Reed, Miss Frances, i., 49 Reed, Roland, i., 240 "Reform," ii., 199, 200 Reid, Whitelaw, ii., 132 Reilly, Dr. Frank W., becomes a helpful friend to Field, i., 279, 280; benefits Illinois, 281; his accomplishments 283-285; "To Dr. Frank W. Riley," 289, 290; "To F.W.R. at 6 P.M.," 293; Field complains of, ii., 86, 88 "Return of the Highlander, The," ii., 83, 84 Rice, John A., i., 263 Riley, James Whitcomb, Field tells a story at his expense, ii., 147, 148; reads with Field, 265 "Robin and the Violet, The," i., 317; ii., 102 Robson, Stuart, ii., 132 "Rose, The," ii., 106 Rothacker, O.H., editor of Denver Tribune, i., 144, 189 Russell, Sol Smith, one of Field's best friends, i., 264; his mimicry, i., 265, 266, 292

St. Joseph Gazette, i., 114 St. Louis, Field's father dies in, i., 84; Field's home, 91-98, 112 "Saints' and Sinners' Corner," origin of, ii., 173-175; described, 178; description of entertainment given by Field, 193-197 Sandford, Alexander, i., 41 Schurz, Carl, misreported by Field, 131, 132 Sclanders, J.L., i., 218 Scott, Dred, statement of his case, i., 38; first petition to the Circuit Court, 39, 40; complaint against Alexander Sandford and others, 41, 42; Justice Taney's decision, 42, 43 "Second Book of Verse," i., 53; ii., 264 "Seein' Things," i., 153 Sembrich, Madame, a favorite of Field, i., 251; her genius and accomplishments, 252, 253 Shackelford, Collins, i., 217; wheedled into advancing money to Field, ii., 7-9 "Shadwell Folio, The," ii., 122-129 "Sharps and Flats," i., 53, 97, 114; beginning and origin of, 201-203; mention of William Crane, 235, 240; ii., 56, 119, 254 "Singer Mother, The," i., 255, 256 Skiff, Fred V., i., 144; advances money to Field, 162; subscribes to the "Little Books," ii., 132 Smith, Harry B, ii., 250 "Songs and Other Verse," ii., 129 "Sonnet to Shekelsford, A," ii., 8 "Souvenirs from Egypt," ii., 179-182 "Statesman's Sorrow, A," ii., 231-233 Stedman, Edmund Clarence, writes an appreciation of Eugene Field, i., 340, 341; visits Chicago, 341-345 Stevenson, Adlai, ii., 207, 288 Stone, Melvin B., establishes the Chicago Daily News, i., 185, 186; first meeting with Field, 187; offers Field a position, 188; accounts for "Sharps and Flats," 203; a Mugwump, ii., 218-220; retires from the Daily News, 222; described before and after Blaine's defeat, 224-226; bears expense of painting Field's house, 288 Stryker. Rev. M. Woolsey, ii., 173 "Symbol and the Salut, The," ii., 167

Taney, Chief Justice, decision in Dred Scott case, i., 37, 38, 42, 43 "Ten Years of a Song Bird: Memoirs of a Busy Life," ii., 321, 332-340 Terry, Ellen, i., 264 "The Eugene Field I Knew," i., 96 Thompson, Mary Matilda, receives illuminated letters from Field, ii., 27, 28, 33, 34; "How Mary Matilda Won a Prince," dedicated to, 36 Thompson, Mrs., i., 156 Thompson, Slason, personal relations with Field, ii., 1-14; his marriage, 1, 2, 120; bombarded with postal-cards, 9-12; receives a Christmas stocking, 12-14; his rooms pictured by Field, 28-31; letters and poems from Field, 47-58, 65-70; publishes "The Humbler Poets," 56; receives twelve more letters from Field, 77-105; retires from The Daily News to join America, 121; letters from John Wilson & Son concerning publication of Field's "Little Books," 133-136; receives two letters from Francis Wilson about publication of "Echoes from the Sabine Farm," 153-157; a Mugwump, 218-220; his last evening with Field, 307, 308 Thorne, Charles H., Jr., i., 260 Ticknor & Co., ii., 107 Tilden, S.J., ii., 253 "To a Blue Jay," i., 334-336 "To Clara Doty Bates," ii., 85, 86 Todd, Charles S., ii., 319 Tree, Judge Lambert, lampooned by Field, ii., 214-217 "Tribune Primer," i., 146; not Field's first book, ii., 107 "Tribute of the Thrush, The," ii., 320 Tufts, Rev. James, i., 54; educates Eugene Field, i., 73-78

"Valentine, A," ii., 129 "Vision of the Holy Grail, The," i., 333

Walters Gallery, The, described, ii., 16-21 "Wanderer, The," i., 154-157 Ward, Mrs. Humphry, believes two of Field's yarns, ii., 153-155 Warner, Charles Dudley, i., 134 Waterloo, Stanley, i., 98 "Werewolf, The," ii., 115 Wilcox, Ella Wheeler, involved in a controversy over "Love and Laughter," i., 326-328 Wilde, Oscar, impersonated by Field, i., 171, 172 Wilson, Francis, i., 96, 148; made fun of, 229, 230; issues "Echoes from the Sabine Farm," ii., 155-157, 165, 166; buys Sir Walter Scott's chair, 190, 191 Wilson & Son, John, letters to Slason Thompson concerning Field's "Little Books," ii., 133-136 "Winfreda," ii., 129 "Wit of the Silurian Age," i., 291 "With Trumpet and Drum," ii., 264 Wood, Mrs. Hanna, i., 24, 25 "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," ii., 116

"Yvytot," ii., 146, 147

THE END