The house was pointed out on "Thunderbolt Hill" and his companion said, "How is he as a lecturer ?" "Well," was the response, "he ain't Gough by a d----d sight." How comically he told of a country druggist's clerk to whom he put the query, "What is the most popular pill just now ?" And the quick answer, "Schenk's--they do say the Craowned Heads is all atakin' of 'em!" Or the request for his funniest lecture for the benefit of a hearse in a rural hamlet! His experience in a little village where he and Mrs.Fields wanted to find a boarding-house: The lady of the house demurred; she had "got pretty tired of boarders," but at last capitulated with, "Well, I'll let you come in if you'll do your own stretching." This proved to mean no waitress at the table.
The morning after their arrival, he went out for a long walk in the mountain air, and returning was accosted by his host: "I see you are quite a predestinarian." As he was resting on one of the wooden chairs, the man said: "I got those chairs for piazzary purposes," and enlarged on the trouble of getting good help in haying time: "Why, my neighbour, Jake Stebbins, had a boy in his gang named Henry Ward Beecher Gooley.

He was so dreadful pious that on extra hot mornings he'd call 'em all together at eleven o'clock and ask 'em to join in singing, 'Lord, Dismiss us with Thy Blessing.'" All these anecdotes were told to me by Mr.Fields and I intend to give only those memories which are _my own_.
Mr.Fields was wonderfully kind to budding authors.

Professor Brown sent him, without my knowledge, my two-column appreciation of dear Tom Hood, after his memorials were written by his son and daughter.

And before many weeks came a box of his newest books for me, with a little note on finest paper and wide margin, "hoping that your friendship may always be continued towards our house." I cannot speak of Mr.Fields and fail to pay my tribute of loving admiration to his wife, Annie Fields.

When I first met that lady in her home at 148 Charles Street, she was so exquisitely dainty, refined, spirituelle, and beautiful, I felt, as I expressed it, "square-toed and common." She was sincerely cordial to all who were invited to that sacred shrine; she was the perfect hostess and housekeeper, the ever-busy philanthropist, a classic poet, a strong writer of prose when eager to aid some needed reform.