t to Miss Marie
Mathilde, who, I believe, invented that opinion. _Entre nous_:
Hawkins tells me that some of his friends are trying to buy the St.
Paul Dispatch for him. There was a fire in the Chicago Opera House
building to-night, but, unfortunately, no serious damage was done.

Stone is thinking of having the three of us--Dock, you and your
habit--write a department for the Saturday News after the fashion of
the Noctes. Think it all over whilst you are away. What are you
going to bring me for a present? Don't go to buying any foolish
trumpery; you have no money to waste on follies. What I need is a
"Noctes," and any other useful book you may get hold of in New York.
Love to the folks.

Ever yours,

FIELD.

The proposed "Noctes," except the set for Field, never materialized.

XII

CHICAGO, September 28th, 1886.

Dear Nomp:--I am just cunning enough to send this to the care of our
New York office, for I surmise that it will reach there in time to
intercept you. I do not intend that you shall get out of New York
without being reminded of that present you intend bringing me for
being so good as to write to you regularly whilst you were away. I
confidently expect to see you back here next Sunday. On Monday I go
to Indianapolis for two or three days, and I heartily wish you were
going with me to help bear the expense of the trip. In fact, I am so
anxious to have you along that I would cheerfully consent to letting
you pay everything. But at any rate I agree to take supper with you
at Mr. Pullman's godless hotel the night you return. The Dock
invited me out to supper to-night. We went to the Drum. Suspecting
that I was going to exceed his capability of payment, he handed me
over a dollar--all the money he had. I had the check charged to me
and kept the dollar. Whereat the Dock grieves passing sore.

I have begun to surmise that my remarks about Literary Life will
lead to Miss Cleveland's retirement from the editorship of that
delectable mush-bucket. The signs all point that way now. I enclose
you a letter to my friend Mitchell of the Sun. Tell him about the
Goethe poem. I promised to send him a copy of it when Literary Life
printed it. Scrutinize young Kingsbury's daily life carefully.
Heaven forefend all the temptations that compass him in the modern
Babylon. Give my love to Mr. Scribner.

Yours as ever,

FIELD.

Field's satiri