This man Reilly, who has thrust himself upon me
during your absence, is fast becoming a seven-year itch. He sprawls
about over this room of mine as if it were his own, he strews his
damned medical literature over my table, he has a constant stream of
idiot callers, and he refuses to give up when I demand truage of
him. I hope you will pack your gripsack and start home immediately
upon receipt of this. Ballantyne left for St. Louis a few moments
ago. In honor of the fact that he is supposed to be on deck
to-night, Stone has taken his family and gone to the Casino Theatre
for the evening.

Cowen spent the night at my house last night and to-day Pinny caught
twenty-five crickets for him to take to his room to make music for
him. While Cowen was riding down in the car a pretty girl got
aboard, and in trying to get a peep at her Cowen dropped the box
containing the crickets. For some moments it rained crickets. The
women climbed up on the seats of the car and there was general
alarm. I believe that Cowen recovered three of the crickets, but two
of these had but two legs between them.

The Chicagos won the game at St. Louis yesterday (1 to 0), but lost
to-day (4 to 5). Flynn pitched yesterday and your friend Clarkson
pitched to-day. It wouldn't surprise me if Chicago and Detroit were
to go East tied.

Ballantyne has made Hawkins move his desk back to the library and
Hawkins is passing wroth about it.

Here is what I bought Gussie for a wedding present to-day: 2 quires
of paper with envelopes, 1 curling iron, 2 papers of pins, 2 papers
of hairpins, 1 darning ball, 2 combs, 1 bottle Calder's tooth
powder, 1 bottle of vaseline, 1 bottle of shoe polish, 1 box of lip
salve, 1 button hook and 1 bottle of listerine.

It is quite wintry here. We are all well. Remember me to Marie
Matilde and to la belle Helene.

Affectionately yours,

EUGENE FIELD.

It must not be inferred from anything in these letters that Field's
relations with Dr. Reilly were ever anything but the most friendly
and grateful. It simply amused him to rail at and revile one of his
best friends.

IV

CHICAGO, Wednesday night, September the 15th, 1886.

My dear Nompy:--Presumably you are by this time sitting by the sad
sea waves in that dreary Canuck watering place, drawing sight drafts
on the banks of Newfoundland and letting the chill east wind blow
through your whiskers. We,