t any wonder that his trips down town became less frequent, that he
preferred to do his work at home, and subsidized one of his sons to be
his regular messenger to bear his copy to the office? Is it surprising
that, along in August, 1895, we find him writing:

Yes, there is no doubt that these rains which we have had in such
plenty for the last three days have interrupted and otherwise
interfered with the sports of many people. Yet none of us should
sulk or complain when he comes to consider how badly we needed the
rain, and what a vast amount of good these refreshing down-pourings
have done. Vegetation was in a bad, sad way; the trees had begun to
have a withered look, and the grass was turning brown. What a change
has been wrought by the grace of the rain! Nature smiles once more;
the lawns are green, the trees are reviving; the roadsides are
beautiful with the grasses, the ferns, and the wild flowers, among
which insectivorous life makes cheery music. The rain has arrayed
old Mother Earth in a bright new garb.

The month of September is close at hand; the conditions of its
coming are favorable. There is fun ahead for all us sentimental
people. A beautiful moon is waiting rather impatiently for the
clouds to roll by; the moon is always at her best in the full
summer-time.

How good it is to live in this beautiful world of ours; how varied
and countless are the blessings bestowed upon us; how sweet is the
beneficence of Nature; how dear is the companionship of humanity!

"The companionship of humanity!" Nothing could make up to him any
narrowing of that. His friends became dearer to him than ever. He could
send his copy down to the printer, but when his friends did not come
out in sufficient numbers to Buena Park he made the long trip to town
to meet them at luncheon or in the Saints' and Sinners' Corner at
McClurg's. Here he held almost daily court, and mulled over the
materials for "The Love Affairs of a Bibliomaniac"--the opening chapter
of which appeared in his "Sharps and Flats" on August 30th. Here he
confided to a few that the grasshopper had "become a burden," by reason
of the weariness of his long convalescence. Here he had those meetings
with the Rev. Frank W. Gunsaulus which resulted in the frequent
transfer of poems from the latter's pocket to the "Sharps and Flats"
column, without initial or sign to intimate that they were other than
Field's own vintage, only fro