ilence, they came--
Their paths were illumed by their torches' mild flame,
Whose soft lambent streams by love's glory were lit;
And where fairy knights and bright elves used to flit
Across the wan world when the lights quivered dim,
These watched at the grave, and were mourning for him._

That the spirit of those funeral services was neither local nor
ephemeral is proved by the following poem, which, by a strange
coincidence, came in a round-about way to my desk in the Record-Herald
office from their author in Texarkana, Texas, the very day I
transcribed the above lines from Dr. Gunsaulus's "Songs of Night and
Morning" into the manuscript of this book:

_EUGENE FIELD

1.

Sleep well, dear poet of the heart!
In dreamless rest by cares unbroken;
Thy mission filled, in peace depart.
Thy message to the world is spoken.

2.

Thy song the weary heart beguiles;
Like generous wine it soothes and cheers,
Yet oftentimes, amid our smiles,
Thy pathos melts a soul to tears.

3.

In "Casey's Tabble-Dote" no more
Thy kindly humor will be heard;
In silence now we must deplore
The horrors of that "small hot bird."

4.

The "Restauraw" is silent now,
The "Conversazzhyony's" over;
And "Red Hoss Mountain's" gloomy brow
Looks down where lies "Three-fingered Hoover."

5.

Our friend "Perfesser Vere de Blaw"
No longer on the "Steenway" prances
With "Mizzer-Reery" "Opry-Boof,"
And old familiar songs and dances.

6.

Old "Red floss Mountain's" wrapped in gloom,
And "Silas Pettibone's shef-doover"
Has long since vanished from the room
With "Casey" and "Three-fingered Hoover."

7.

Yet will they live! Though Field depart;
Thousands his memory will cherish;
The gentle poet of the heart
Shall live till life and language perish.

C.S.T._

The initials are those of Mr. Charles S. Todd, of Texarkana, Texas; and
the poem, besides testifying to the wide-spread sorrow over Field's
death, bears witness to the fact that his western dialect verse had a
hold on the popular heart only second to his lullabies and poems of
childhood.

From the Fourth Presbyterian Church Field's body was borne to its last
resting-place, in Graceland cemetery. It is a quiet spot where the poet
is interred, in a lovely little glade, away from the sorrowful
processions of the main driveways. Leafy branches wave above his grave,