Mr. Field was not only a writer of child verses, but wrote some first-class Western dialectic verse, did some translating, was an excellent newspaper correspondent, and a critic of no mean ability; but he was too kind-hearted and liberal to chastise a brother severely who did not come up to the highest literary standard. He was a hard worker, contributing daily, during his later years, from one to three columns to the “Chicago News,” besides writing more or less for the “Syndicate Press” and various periodicals. In addition to this, he was frequently traveling, and lectured or read from his own writings. Since his death, his oldest daughter, Miss Mary French Field (“Trotty”), has visited the leading cities throughout the country, delivering readings from her father’s works. The announcement of her appearance to read selections from the writings of her genial father is always liberally responded to by an appreciative public.
OUR TWO OPINIONS.[¹]
S two wuz boys when we fell out—
Nigh to the age uv my youngest now;
Don’t rec’lect what ’twuz about,
Some small diff’rence, I’ll allow,
Lived next neighbors twenty years,
A-hatin’ each other, me ’nd Jim—