bit of evidence
from Eugene Field's own pen of the survival of the passion for pets to
which his brother testifies:

"It is only under stress," said he in his allotted column in the
Chicago Record of January 9th, 1892, "nay, under distress, that the
mysterious veil of the editorial-room may properly be thrown aside
and the secret thereof disclosed. It is under a certain grievous
distress that we make this statement now:

"For a number of months the silent partner in the construction of
this sporadic column of 'Sharps and Flats' has been a little fox
terrier given to the writer hereof by his friend, Mr. Will J. Davis.
We named our little companion Jessie, and our attachment to her was
wholly reciprocated by Jessie herself, although (and we make this
confession very shamefacedly) our enthusiasm for Jessie was by no
means shared by the prudent housewife in charge of the writer's
domestic affairs. Jessie contributed to and participated in our work
in this wise: She would sit and admiringly watch the writer at his
work, wagging her abridged tail cordially whenever he bestowed a
casual glance upon her, threatening violence to every intruder,
warning her master of the approach of every garrulous visitor, and
oftentimes, when she felt lonely, insisted on climbing up into her
master's lap and slumbering there while he wrote and wrote away. We
have tried our poems on Jessie, and she always liked them; leastwise
she always wagged her tail approvingly and smiled her flatteries as
only a very intelligent little dog can. Some folk think that our
poetry drove Jessie away from home, but we know better; Jessie
herself would deny that malicious imputation were she here now and
could she speak.

"To this little companion we became strongly, perhaps foolishly,
attached. She walked with us by day, hunting rats and playing
famously every variety of intelligent antics. Whither we went she
went, and at night she shared our couch with us. Though only nine
months old Jessie stole into this life of ours so very far that
years seemed hardly to compass the period and honesty of our
friendship.

"Well, last Tuesday night Jessie disappeared--vanished as
mysteriously as if the earth had opened up and swallowed her. She
had been playing with a discreet dog friend in Fullerton Avenue, and
that was the last seen of her! Where can she have gone? It is very
lonesome without Jes