eft Cambridge, that he and Professor Langdell,
the eminent teacher at Harvard who had introduced that method
with so much success, studied together. Whether it was Felton's
plan or Langdell's I do not know.

John Felton died suddenly in May, 1877. Everybody who comes
to Washington from California who is old enough speaks with
pleasure of his knowledge of Felton and is full of stories
of his brilliant wit. He had probably the largest fees ever
received by an American lawyer. He is said by his biographer
to have received a fee of a million dollars in one case. His
death was received with universal sorrow. All the places
of business and amusement were closed and the flags displayed
at half mast on the day of his funeral.

Another rather interesting figure among the men of the classes
above me was Thomas Hill, afterward President of the College.
He was a good mathematician and a good preacher. But he was
not as successful in the Presidency as his friends hoped.
The only thing I remember about him of any importance is highly
to his credit. One winter's day a little gaunt-looking and
unhappy pig that had strayed away from a drove wandered into
the College Yard just as the boys were coming out of evening
prayers. The whole surface of the yard was covered with a
sheet of thin and very slippery ice. It was rather hard to
stand up on it. The boys came across the pig, which was frightened
and attempted to run. After running a little, he would slip
on the ice and slide and tumble over, and then gather himself
up again and try once more. There was a general shout and
a general chase. Poor piggy strove to elude his pursuers.
His own tail was a little slippery, so that if a boy caught
it he did not hold it long. The whole college, pretty much,
engaged in the pursuit, which certainly seemed to be great
fun. But, on a sudden, there was a loud, angry shout from
a stentorian voice as Tom Hill jumped in among the pursuers,
who were just on the point of conquering the bewildered animal.
"For shame. Take one of your size." The boys saw the point,
were filled with mortification, desisted, and allowed the
poor creature to go in peace.

The boys generally boarded in the College Commons, where they
could board for $2.25 a week on one side, and on the other
called "starvation commons" for $1.75 a week. In the latter
they had meat only every other day. A few of the sons of
the wealthier families boarded in private houses