ive stock of
early English balladry and a complete line of Bohn's Library. In these
he revelled until he had pretty thoroughly comprehended, as he would
say, their contents. But during our almost daily visit to McClurg's he
formed the acquaintance of a number of such chronic book collectors as
Ben. T. Cable, George A. Armour, Charles J. Barnes, James W. Ellsworth,
Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus, the Rev. Frank M. Bristol, the Rev. M. Woolsey
Stryker, and others, some with ample wealth to indulge their
extravagant tastes, but the majority with lean purses coupled with
bookish tastes beyond the resources of a Philadelphia mint. Out of
these daily meetings and mousings among books and prints was evolved in
Field's fancy what he dubbed the "Saints' and Sinners' Corner." The
"Saints" may be easily identified by their titles, while the "Sinners"
included all those who had neither title nor pretence to holiness, but
were simply engaged in breaking the command against coveting their
neighbors' possessions. There was no formal organization, no club, no
stated meetings, no roll of members, and no gatherings such as after a
time were constantly reported in the "Sharps and Flats" column. All the
meetings and discussions in the Saints' and Sinners' Corner were held
in Field's fertile brain, and only occasionally were the subjects of
these meetings suggested by anything that happened at McClurg's.

The earliest reference I have found to this figment of Field's fancy
is a casual paragraph in April, 1889, where he speaks of a number of
bibliomaniacs having congregated in the Saints' and Sinners' Corner at
McClurg's. But the phrase was current among us long before that. It
was not until nearly two years had elapsed that Field gravely
announced "a sale of pews in the Saints' and Sinners' corner at
McClurg's immediately after the regular noontime service next
Wednesday" (December 31st, 1890). It is perhaps worthy of a remark
that General McClurg for a long time regarded Field's frequent jests
and squibs at the expense of the frequenters of his old-book
department with anything but an approving eye. He looked upon Field
for many years as a ribald mocker of the conventionalities not only of
literature but of life. "Culture's Garland" was an offence to his
social instincts and literary tastes. Among all the men with whom
Field came in frequent converse, the late lamented General Alexander
C. McClurg was the last to succumb to the engaging tormentor