In paying a tribute to the mingled mirth and tenderness of Eugene Field-the poet of whose going the West may say, "He took our daylight with him"-one of his fellow journalists has written that he was a jester, but not of the kind that Shakespeare drew in Yorick. He was not only, -so the writer implied, -the maker of jibes and fantastic devices, but the bard of friendship and affection, of melodious lyrical conceits; he was the laureate of children-dear...