ble to secure of Field at this
period of his career is from his life-long friend, William C. Buskett,
the hero of "Penn Yan Bill," to whom Field dedicated "Casey's Table
d'Hote," the first poem in "A Little Book of Western Verse."

"My association with Eugene Field," says Mr. Buskett, "began in St.
Louis, Mo., in 1872. We had a little circle of friends that was surely
to be envied in that we were fond of each other and our enjoyment was
pure and genuine. In 1875 we formed what was known as the 'Arion
Quartette,' composed of Thomas L. Crawford, now clerk in the United
States Circuit Court in St. Louis, Thomas C. Baker (deceased), Roswell
Martin Field, a brother of Eugene, and myself. 'Gene (as he was always
called by his intimates) did not sing in the quartette, though he had
a good voice. We frequently gave entertainments, at which Eugene was
always the centre of attraction. The 'Old Sexton' was his favorite
song. He was a great mimic and tease, and was always bubbling over
with fun. At that time he was living on Adams Street, and many of
these entertainments were given at his house. His household then
consisted of himself, wife, and baby 'Trotty,' the pet name given his
eldest daughter, Mary French Field, and with them Mrs. Comstock,
mother of Mrs. Field, Edgar V. and Misses Carrie, Georgia, and Gussie
Comstock, a delightful family.

"There was a genuine bond of friendship among us all then, for we were
comparatively oblivious to care and trouble. We were all poor, you may
say, earning reasonable salaries, but that never seemed to worry us
much. If one had a dollar we would always divide and the crowd was
never a cent ahead, but we defied misfortune.

"Among the pranks that Eugene used to play upon his wife in those days
was that of appearing at some of our rehearsals on a warm evening in a
costume that never failed to tease her. He would walk into the parlor
and say: 'Well, boys, let us take off our coats and take it easy; it's
too hot.' We would all proceed to do so. When Eugene would remove his
coat he would display a red flannel undershirt, having pinned his
cuffs to his coat sleeves and his necktie and collar to his shirt. He
placed no limit on his humor."

Who of those at all intimate with Field will forget the enjoyment he
took in trolling forth, in a quaint, quavering, cracked, but tuneful
recitative, one stanza of "Ossian's Serenade":

_I'll chase the antelope over the plain
The tiger's cub I'll bind