then chiefly associated. This was several years before Field made the
Saints' and Sinners' Corner in McClurg's Chicago book-store famous
throughout the bibliomaniac world by fictitious reports relating to it
printed occasionally in his "Sharps and Flats" column. It was not
until 1893 that McClurg & Co. published any of Field's writings.

My work to which Field refers was the collection of newspaper and
periodical verse entitled "The Humbler Poets," which McClurg & Co.
subsequently published.

Enclosed in the letter of July 22d was the following characteristic
account, conveying the impression that while he was willing to waste
all the resources of his colored inks and literary ingenuity on our
friendship, I must pay the freight. I think he had a superstition that
it would cause a flaw in his title of "The Good Knight, _sans peur
et sans monnaie_" if he were to add the price of a two-cent postage
stamp to that waste.

[Illustration: A STAMP ACCOUNT.

Mr. Slosson Thompson.
to Eugene Field, Dr.

To 4 stamps at 2 cts--July 20--.08
To 1 stamp --July 22--.02
Total .10
Please remit.]

[Illustration: AN ECHO FROM MACKINAC ISLAND.
_With drawings by Eugene Field._]

Shortly after my return from Mackinac, Field presented me with the
following verses, enlivened with several drawings in colors, entitled
"An Echo from Mackinac Island, August, 1885":

I.

_A Thompson went rowing out into the strait--
Out into the strait in the early morn;
His step was light and his brow elate,
And his shirt was as new as the day just born.

His brow was cool and his breath was free,
And his hands were soft as a lady's hands,
And a song of the booming waves sang he
As he launched his bark from the golden sands.

The grayling chuckled a hoarse "ha-ha,"
And the Cisco tittered a rude "he-he"--
But the Thompson merrily sang "tra-la"
As his bark bounced over the Northern Sea._

II.

_A Thompson came bobbling back into the bay--
Back into the bay as the Sun sank low,
And the people knew there was hell to pay,
For HE wasn't the first who had come back so.

His nose was skinned and his spine was sore,
And the blisters speckled his hands so white--
He had lost his hat and had dropped an oar,
And his bosom-shirt was a sad sea sight.

And the grayling chuckled again "ha-ha,"
And the Cisco tittered a harsh "ho-ho"--
But