n LaSalle Avenue, and one day Morgan was boasting
in Field's presence of the palatial nature of their quarters. As the
anniversary of Mrs. Bates's birthday was at hand, Field immediately
proposed that the entire editorial staff of the News should invite
itself and its family to her hospitable board. Bates was taken into
the conspiracy of friendship, and on the evening of April 28th we
descended on Mrs. Coonley's North Side mansion and ransacked it from
cellar to garret. It was Field's humor that day to set every picture
in the house just enough awry to disturb Mrs. Bates's sensitive
vision. When she arrived on the scene she greeted us with the utmost
cordiality, as we did her. But no matter where she stood, her eye
would be annoyed by a picture-frame just out of plumb, and she would
be excused while she straightened it. Nearly every picture and
portrait on the lower floor had been adjusted before she understood
the motive of Field's solicitude to see every painting and engraving
in the house. Unlike the regulation surprise party of society, we had
not provided the refreshments for our own entertainment, and we had
Bates under bonds not to give Mrs. Bates an inkling of our visit. But
she was enough of a Martha to rise to the occasion. Several members of
the company were detailed on separate errands to Clark Street for
various raw meats and non-alcoholic liquid supplies, and Mrs. Bates
herself descended to the kitchen to oversee the preparation of the
bounteous feast which presently emerged from chaos. By way of grace,
Field read an impromptu poem written in dark blue ink on pale blue
paper with each line beginning with a capital in red:

_TO CLARA DOTY BATES

Circled around this fair and sumptuous board
(Like nymphs, dear ladies, you--like satyrs, we)
All to one purpose cheerfully agree--
Ruthless assault on Bates's savory hoard.
And since the skirmish duty falls on me--
Despite the wait, of hungry folk deplored--
One opening shot I claim, one modest toast
To her who makes life easy for our host.

You, madam, have achieved a noble fame,
Better by far than selfishness could earn--
A million grateful children bless your name--
To you we drink--then to the viands turn;
Easy, mayhap, it is to write a book--
Success to her whose muse will deign to cook!

E.F.
Chicago, April 28, 1886._

III

CHICAGO, Tuesday night, September the 14th, 1886.

My Dear Child:--