likely, a million and a half.”  That was thirty-three years ago when the Carondelet iron furnaces were in full blast and the city seemed stretching southward.  In 1869 the property was appraised at $125,000.  The panic came on and St. Louis changed its mind and headed toward the west, where the best part of the city now rears its mansions and wonders how it ever dreamed of going south.  There Carondelet still bakes in the sun, on the far side of a slough which has diverted a fortune from the sons of the sanguine Roswell M. Field, the elder.

More provident than his brother, Roswell lived comfortably on his share for nearly seven years, only in the end to envy the superior shrewdness of Eugene, who, putting his portion into cash, realized more from it, and spent it like a lord while it lasted.  I must confess that I share Roswell’s views, for the investment which Eugene Field made in the two years after coming of age in spending $20,000 on experience, returned to him many fold in the profession he was finally driven to adopt, not as a pastime, but to earn a livelihood for himself and his growing family.

Having shot his bolt, Field went to work as a reporter on the St. Louis Evening Journal.  He was not much of a success as a reporter for the simple reason that his fancy was more active than his legs and he was irresistibly disposed to save the latter at the expense of the former.

The best pen picture I have been able 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.