n. John took the Southern side of that
question, although I dare say he would have taken the other
if a Southerner had introduced it, and we got pretty zealous
on both sides and walked home together continuing the argument
as we walked. As we separated, Felton said: "We will continue
this discussion to-morrow. Meantime, won't you look up the
history of the matter a little?" "Yes," said I, "and won't
you study up a little on Whately's Logic?" The answer seemed
to delight Felton, and he took me into high favor. I never
knew a man of such ready wit, although I have known a good
many famous wits in my day. But all these things evaporate
with time. Or, if you remember them, they are vapid and tasteless
in the telling, like champagne which has been uncorked for
a week. We were one day discussing some question of law at
the table, and John, who had not yet begun to study law himself,
put in his oar as usual, when Charles Allen, afterward Judge
of the Massachusetts Supreme Court, turned on him with some
indignation. "What do you know about it, Johnny? You don't
know what a quantum meruit is." "If you had it, 't would kill
you," said Felton. He was invited to the dinner given by
the people of Nevada in honor of their admission as a State,
and there was some discussion about a device for a State
seal. Felton suggested that the Irish emblem would be the
most appropriate, the "Lyre and shamrock." Once after deciding
a case in his favor, Mr. Justice Field said to him: "Felton,
I have made great use of your brief in my opinion." "Always
do that, Judge," said Felton. He possessed considerable capacity
for poetry, although I do not know that he cultivated it much
after he left college. He delivered a very successful poem
at Commencement, and gave the Phi Beta Kappa poem the next
year and read some very witty verses at the Society's dinner
the same day. He was much distressed over choosing a subject,
and put off and put off writing his poem till within a few
days of the time when it was to be delivered. And he finally
resolved, in a fit of desperation, that he would go into his
room, shut his eyes, turn round three times and take for his
subject the first object on which they rested when he opened
them. That happened to be a horseshoe which he had picked
up in the street and hung over his fireplace for luck. He
made a charming poem from this subject, on Superstition. The
opening lines are:

Just over the way,