In April, 1882, he suffered quite a disagreeable experience. One evening a police officer and two or three gentlemen came to the house, bringing the torn and burned remains of a package addressed to him. It had been in the mail-bag which a postman threw on the platform of the Third Avenue elevated road as he stepped off the train. As the bag fell there was an immediate explosion, and, upon examination, the box and wrapper of the package were found. The wrapper was an old German newspaper with Mr. Field’s name on it, and another like package in the bag bore the name of Mr. Wm. H. Vanderbilt.
He took the matter very calmly, only afterwards telling the butler that no package brought to the house must be delivered until it had first been plunged in a bucket of water. This order spread consternation among some members of the family, who trembled for their new spring clothes.
On August 25, 1884, he left Tarrytown in the car “Railway Age,” with several members of his family, for a journey that lasted six weeks, and during that time he travelled 11,000 miles by rail and 300 by boat. On September 12th he left Portland, Oregon, for Tacoma, and early on the morning of the 13th, as he was waiting at Utsaladdy for the tide to carry the North Pacific, the boat he was on, through Deception Pass, went on shore, and found that it was from this place that the wooden mast for the Great Eastern had been cut. It was sent to England by the way of Cape Horn.
September 22d he joined Sir Donald Smith and his party at Silver Heights, and his car was attached to their special train. Four days were given to crossing the Rockies and returning to Winnipeg, to the then western terminus of the Canadian Pacific. On the afternoon of September 24th the cars stopped in front of a large tent; it was the station, and has since been known as Field.
A few hours earlier, as we all stood looking up at Mount Stephen, and then off at the mountains, Sir Donald Smith turned to Mr. Field and said, “That is Mount Field.” One of the employés of the road suggested that it had been already named, but that was of no account; Sir Donald’s word was law, and Mount Field it became.
It was upon one of his Western journeys that he stopped at a telegraph office, wrote a message, and handed it to the clerk to send. Instead of turning at once to his instrument, the man studied Mr. Field intently, and then said, “Are you the original Cyrus?”
On his return home he was much interested in the Presidential election; but he accepted the result quietly, and wrote to a friend:
“I thank you for what you say in regard to the election. Whoever has received a majority of the votes will be declared elected. I do not know of any human being who wishes to defeat the popular will when known. In my own opinion, no one can tell who is elected until after the official count.”
This year was that of the long and painful illness and affecting death of General Grant. Mr. Field’s sympathy with the sufferer was intense, and it was with regret that he received this letter, and also one from one of General Grant’s sons, to which he refers in his answer:
“New York City, January 6, 1885.