cellar of a deserted frame house at 1423 Michigan Street, Chicago.
This number would have located the cellar well out in Lake Michigan.
Colonel Shadwell presented this incomparable folio to "The Ballad and
Broadside Society of Cook County, Illinois, for the Discovery of
Ancient Manuscripts and for the Dissemination of Culture (limited)."
On receipt of the folio, this society immediately adopted the
following resolutions:

_Resolved_, That the ballads set forth in the parchment manuscript,
known as the Shadwell folio, are genuine old English ballads,
composed by English balladists, and illustrating most correctly life
in Chicago in Ancient Times, which is to say, before the fire.

_Resolved_, That the parchment cover of said folio is, in our
opinion, neither pigskin nor sheep, but genuine calf, and
undoubtedly the pelt of the original fatted calf celebrated in
Shakespeare's play of the "Prodigal Son."

_Resolved_, That we hail with pride these indisputable proofs that
our refinement and culture had an ancestry, and that our present
civilization did not spring, as ribald scoffers have alleged,
mushroom-like from the sties and wallows of the prairies.

_Resolved_, That we get these ballads printed in an edition of not
to exceed 500 copies, and at a cost of $50 per copy, or, at least,
at a price beyond the capability of the hoy polloi.

Field then proceeded to review the contents of the fictitious folio,
taking the precaution to premise his remarks and extracts with the
statement that "it must not be surmised that all the poems in this
Shadwell folio are purely local; quite a number treat of historical
subjects." Of the poems in the first half of "The Shadwell Folio" I am
able to give one of the most interesting in fac-simile, premising
that, although this did not see the light of print until October,
1888, it was written in an early month of 1887.

On pages 19 and 20 of the folio, according to Field, we get a
"pleasant glimpse of the rare old time" in the ballad entitled:

[Illustration: "THE ALLIAUNCE".

Come hither, gossip, let us sit
beneath this plaisaunt vine;
I fain wolde counsel thee a bit
whiles that we sip our wine.

The air is cool and we can hear
the voicing of the kine
come from the pasture lot anear
the styes where grunt the swine.

See how that Tom, my sone, doth fare
with posies in his hands--
Methinks he minds to mend h