DEAR MR. GRAY: I returned from my St. Joseph's trip last Saturday
and found your draft awaiting me here. The men have begun to push
work on the house, and it is expected that the plastering will be
done this week. I have no doubt that we shall be able to move into
our new home the first of June, although the place may not be in
complete trim at that time. I cannot tell you how pleasurably I
anticipate life in the house which I can call a permanent home. I
expect to do better work now than ever before. And I want you to
understand that Julia and I keenly appreciate that but for you the
important move we have made could hardly have been undertaken. We
are hoping that you will run up here for a day or two early in June.
Our love to you and Miss Eva. Affectionately yours,

EUGENE FIELD.

The next and last letter which I shall quote from this interesting
correspondence has the unique distinction of being the only one from
him of all that passed between them that is not in Field's own
chirography. In inditing this, he substituted the serviceable
typewriter for the pen, that had been his companion for so many years,
and that had served him "so diligently," as he so beautifully
acknowledged in the apostrophe to it addressed to his brother Roswell.
It bears date July 2d, and testifies to the writer's failure to realize
the bright anticipation of getting into his new home during the early
days of the leafy month of June:

Chicago, July 3d, 1895.

DEAR MR GRAY: For the last two weeks I have been deferring writing
to you, hoping from day to day that I would be able to announce our
removal into the new house, but it seems as though the Fates are
conspired against us. First it was one thing to delay our removal,
then it was another, and finally everything. Here it is the first of
the month, and we are still in our rented quarters. We intended to
begin moving yesterday, and up to the very last moment on Saturday
hoped to be able to do so, but the painters, and carpenters, and the
plumbers combined against us, and we are in the spot where you saw
us when last in Chicago.

From this beginning you will gather that the new house is in rather
a sad plight. It is not altogether so. The paper-hangers and
painters are nearly through with the second-story, and have done
considerable work down-stairs. I suppose that if everything was
ready for them they could get through in two d