In all Buena Park.
Next to owning a homestead, with rolling lawns and groves of old trees and family associations, Field enjoyed having someone else bear the burden of their maintenance for his immediate personal delectation, and the Waller homestead, with its park effects, afforded him that inexpensive pleasure. His windows looked out upon a truly sylvan scene, the gates to which were always invitingly open, southern fashion, to congenial wayfarers. The more Field saw of the Waller lot, the more completely did the old New England hankering after a homestead, with acres instead of square feet of lawn and trees, take possession of him; and the spectre of ten years' rent for inconvenient flats and houses rose in his memory and urged him to buy land and build for himself. This finally resulted in the following letter to the old friend to whom he always went in any financial emergency, and from whom he never came empty handed away:
DEAR MR. GRAY: An experience of a good many years has convinced me that the best way to deal with one's fellow-creatures, and particularly with one's friends, is directly and candidly. This is one of the several considerations which lead me to write to you now asking you whether it be within your power (and also whether it be your willingness) to help me buy a home in Chicago. Julia has been at me for a year to ask this of you. I have hesitated to do so in the fear that the application might seem to be an attempt to take advantage of your friendship for me—a friendship manifested in many ways and covering a period of many years. Perhaps, however, we can now look at the matter more as a business proposition than would have been possible a year or two ago, for I am at last in a position to pay interest promptly on a considerable amount of money. To be more explicit, the sum of One Hundred and Fifty Dollars ($150) is set aside monthly by the Record toward what Mr. Lawson calls my "building fund," which sum the Record is prepared to guarantee and pay to anybody making me the loan of money necessary to secure the home I want.
I am very anxious for a habitation of my own. The desire is one that gives me no peace, and I see no other way to its fulfilment than through the liberality of any friend, or friends, with money to lend. Before setting my heart upon any locality, or upon any particular spot, it is wise that I should know whether and where the assistance I need can be had. My first application is to you, and I make it timidly, for, as I have said, it is very distasteful to me to do that which may look like imposing upon friendship. In case you found it possible and feasible to aid me, I should want you to come to Chicago and take a look over the field with Julia and me.
We are fairly well. With every cordial regard,
Yours affectionately,
EUGENE FIELD.
Buena Park, September 16th, 1893.
There had ever been but one response from Mr. Gray to such an appeal as this from his quondam ward, and Field was not disappointed this time. But l'homme propose et Dieu dispose; and in this case there was no woman to intervene, as in the Spanish version of the proverb, to "discompose" the disposition of Deity. Before the project contemplated in Field's letter took tangible shape, however, he was laid on his back by a severe cold, which developed into pneumonia. On his recovery, the doctor advised that he should go to California; and on November 8th he wrote to Mr. Gray, asking him if he and his niece could not be ready to accompany him about the 1st of December. Concluding a very brief note, he said: "Writing makes me very tired, so pray pardon my brutal brevity. I send very much love to you and yours. Many, many times have I thought of you, dear friend, during the last three painful weeks, and I have wished that you were here, that I might speak with you." Mr. Gray arranged to join Field on the trip, which the latter outlined in a letter to him December 4th, 1893:
I shall probably be ready to start for Los Angeles the latter part of this week. My plans at present are very limited, extending only to Los Angeles and San Diego. At the latter point it will be wise for me to remain three weeks. That will practically make me a well man. It is said to be a lovely spot. From there I shall want to go for a week or ten days to Madame Modjeska's ranch, located ten miles from the railway, half-way between San Diego and Los Angeles. It is a large ranch—1,000 acres. Madame Modjeska has put it at my disposal, and Lynch and you must help me bear the responsibility thereof. Later in the winter we will go up to San Francisco and visit Henry Field awhile. I will let you know when we start, and if you can't join us at Kansas City, suppose you come on as soon as you can and join me at San Diego. We go to Los Angeles by the Santa Fe. On receipt of this, telegraph me if you can leave Saturday or Sunday. If you are cramped for finances, what sort of a fix do you suppose I'm in? But we must all live; we cannot afford to die just yet. I went down to dinner for the first time on Thursday; I am feeling pretty brisk. Love to Miss Eva.
Ever affectionately yours, with a sore finger,