Upon a slight declivity that quiet refuge lies,
  Where stately forest-trees observe the hot of cloudy skies! 
  The shack is back a goodly distance from the mighty lake
  Whose waters on the pebbly beach with pretty music break;
  Boats go a-sailing to and fro, and fishermen are there
  With schemes to tempt the pike or bass or pickerel from their lair—­
  Oh with sailing, shooting, fishing, you can fancy there’s no lack
  Of fun with Louis Auer at his Lake Pewaukee shack.

  The shack is wide and rangey, with bunks built up around,
  While on the walls the trophies of the flood and field abound;
  The horns of elk and moose, the skins of foxes, beavers, mink,
  Keep glossy guard above the horde that gaily eat and drink;
  It’s oh, the famous yarns we tell and famous yarns we hear,
  And we taste the grateful viands or we quaff the foaming beer;
  And many a lively song we sing and many a joke we crack
  When we’re guests of Louis Auer at his Lake Pewaukee shack.

  No wonder that too swiftly speed the happy hours away
  In the company of Silverman and Underwood and Shea;
  Of Yenowine, McNaughten, Kipp, Peck, Lush, and General Falk—­
  Eight noble men in action, but nobler yet in talk! 
  These are the genial spirits to be met with in that spot. 
  Where are winters never chilly and summers never hot! 
  And a fellow having been there always hankers to get back
  With those friends of Louis Auer’s in that Lake Pewaukee shack.

  To this o’ercrowded city for the nonce let’s say goodby,
  And northward to the lake of Pewaukee let us hie! 
  To-night we’ll lay us down to dreams of calm and cool delight,
  Where owls and dogs and Kipp make solemn music all the night;
  But with our fill of satisfying, big voluptuous cakes,
  Such only as that prince of cooks friend Louis Auer makes,
  We’ll sleep and dream sweet dreams despite that roaring pack,
  So come, let’s off with Auer to his Lake Pewaukee shack._

CHAPTER XI

LAST DAYS

At last (July, 1895) Field was in his own house, provided, as he said, with all the modern conveniences, including an ample veranda and a genial mortgage.  About it were the oaks, in whose branches the birds had built their nests before Chicago was a frontier post.  He could sit upon the “front stoop” and look across vacant lots to where Lake Michigan beat upon the sandy shore with ceaseless rhythm.  Inside, the house was roomy and cheery with God’s own sunlight pouring in through generous windows.  Reversing the usual order of things in this climate of the southwest wind, the porch was on the northeast exposure of the house.  The best room in it was the library, and here, for the first time in his career, Field had the opportunity to provide shelf-room for his books and cabinets for his curios.  An artist