In the following winter there came the first hiatus in his regular contributions to the Record. But he resumed work in May, his return being heralded by a paragraph beginning, "This is a beautiful world, and life herein is very sweet," a note theretofore seldom heard in his paragraphs, though often struck in his "Profitable Tales"; and thenceforward in his daily work his thoughts recur to the beauty of the world and his gladness to be in it. Thus in the following July he wrote: What beautiful weather this is! How full of ozone the atmosphere is; how bright the sunshine is, and how blue this noble lake of ours lies under the cloudless sky! It is simply ideal weather. Who does not rejoice in the change from the oppressive heat of last week? Vigor is restored to all. Commerce revives, and humanity is hopeful and cheering again. And what lovely nights we are having! The moonlight was never more glorious. Unhappy is that man, old or young, who hath not a sweetheart to share with him the poetic grace of our satellite! And such nights for sleep! Morning comes before it is welcome. Yes, this world of ours is very beautiful, and we are glad that we are in and of it. The summer of 1893, with the crowds and various excitements of the World's Fair, was very exhausting to Field, albeit he enjoyed the wonder and beauty of the Columbian Exposition with all the intent eagerness of a twelve-year-old lad at a country circus. Everything that happened down at Jackson Park that memorable season, especially the social rivalries of the different managing bodies, was fair game for his roguish wit. The liberties which he took with the names and reputations of public men showed that the old spirit of waggery was not dead within him. This is illustrated in such verses as these: _The shades of night were falling fast As through the world's fair portal passed A certain Adlai Stevenson, Whose bead-like eyes were fixed upon The Midway. He was the very favorite son Of proud, immortal Bloomington: And, hankering for forbidden joys, He pined to whoop up with the boys The Midway "Try not those fakes," a stranger said, "Unless you're hankering to be bled!" Alas, these words were all for naught-- With still more fervor Adlai sought The Midway. "Beware the divers games of chance, Beware that Street in Cairo dance!" All, all in vain, the warning cry-- Adlai whooped, as he sailed by: "The Midway!" But why pursue this harrowing tale? Far better we should drop the veil Of secrecy before begin His exploits in that Vale of Sin, The Midway._