The subject of the good-natured and clever satire was our mutual friend, Barbour Lathrop, with whom I had been associated in journalism in San Francisco and who is famous from the Bohemian Club literally around the globe and in many of its most out-of-the-way islands as a most entertaining, albeit incessant, story-teller and conversationalist.  Pretty nearly all subjects that interest humanity have engaged his attention.  He could no more rest from travel than Ulysses; and he brought to those he associated with all the fruits that faring forth in strange lands could give to a mind singularly alert for education and experience under any and all conditions.  His fondness for monologue frequently exposed him to raillery, like the above, in the column where Field daily held a monopoly of table talk.

But the episode with the “Garrulous Sir Barbour” was not the rhyme of chief interest (to Field and me) forwarded by “this courier.”

This was confided to a third envelope even more elaborately addressed and embellished than either of the others, as follows: 

For the valorous, joyous, Triumphant and Glorious Knight, The ever gentle and Courteous Flower of Chivalry, Cream of Knight Errantry and Pole Star of Manly virtues, Sir Slosson Thompson, who doth for the nonce sojourn at Mackinac Island, Michigan,

  Where under the guise of a lone Fisherman he is
  regaled with sumptuous cheer and divers rejoicings,
  wherein he doth right merrily disport.

The rhyme under this cover in which the impecunious knight did not “overpraise” himself bore the title “How the Good Knight protected Sir Slosson’s Credit,” and was well calculated to fill me with forebodings.  It ran in this wise: 

  One midnight hour, Sir Ballantyne
  Addressed Old Field:  “Good comrade mine,
        The times i’ faith are drear;
  Since you have not a son to spend
  I would to God our generous friend
        Sir Slosson now were here!”

  Then spake the Impecunious Knight,
  Regardful of his piteous plight: 
        “Odds bobs, you say the truth;
  For since our friend has gone away,
  It doth devolve on thee to pay—­
        Else would I starve i’ sooth.”

  Emerging from their lofty lair
  This much bereaved but worthy pair
        Proceeded unto Boyle’s,
  Agreed that buttered toast would do. 
  Although they were accustomed to
        The choicest roasts and broils.

  “Heyday, sir knights,” a varlet cried
  (’Twas Charlie, famous far and wide
        As Boyle’s devoted squire);
  “Sir Slosson telegraphs me to
  Deliver straightway unto you
        Whatever you desire.”

  The knights with radiant features saw
  The message dated Mackinaw—­
        Then ordered sumptuous cheer;
  Two dollars’ worth, at least, they “cheered”
  While from his counter Charlie leered
        An instigating leer.