The death of his son made a deep impression on Eugene Field. Melvin was the serious, unobtrusive member of the family circle. As Field has just intimated, Pinny was a shrewd and mischievous youngster, who attracted more attention and was permitted more license than his brothers. Daisy was his mother's special pet, and Trotty had many of the characteristics of her father. Besides, she was the only girl in the family of boys. Thus Melvin in temperament and disposition seemed always just outside the inner circle of the household. This came home to Field, and he regretted it deeply before he wrote the concluding lines of his dedication of "With Trumpet and Drum": _So come; though I see not his dear little face, And hear not his voice in this jubilant place, I know he were happy to bid me enshrine His memory deep in my heart with your play. Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day! And my heart it is lonely--so, little folk, come, March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!_ Upon his return, Field secured for his family a large and comfortable house on Fullerton Avenue, about four miles from the office, and, though he was encouraged to think that his health was improved, it was noticed by his friends that most of his work was done at home and they saw less of him down town. Naturally the death of Melvin brought him many letters of condolence, and, among others, one from his old friend William C. Buskett, to whom he made immediate reply: MY DEAR BUSKETT: I was delighted to get your letter. I had been at a loss to account for your long silence. I feared that you might think the rumors of your business reverses had abated my regard for you, and this suspicion made me miserable. I have for so long a time been the victim of poverty that I have come to regard poverty as a sort of trade-mark of virtue, and I hail to the ranks of the elect every friend whom misfortune has impoverished. I have a great deal to say to you; I cannot write it--much is of Melvin and his last moments, painful details, yet not without reconciling features, for he met death calmly and bravely. It will gratify you to know that my own health is steadily improving; the others are very hearty. The second edition of my books, issued by Scribner's Sons, is selling like hot-cakes. Four thousand sets have already been disposed of. I intend to publish a new volume of poems next spring. Ever sincerely yours, EUGENE FIELD. December 17th, 1890. With what diligence and enthusiasm Field threw himself into the work of preparing other books for publication may be gleaned from a letter to Mr. Gray, dated June 7th, 1891: