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, with its front to the street, Up one flight of stairs, is a room snug and neat, With a prospect Mark Tapley right jolly would call;-- Two churches, one graveyard, one bulging brick wall, Where, raven-like, Science gloats over its wealth, And the skeleton grins at the lectures on health. The tree by the window has twice hailed the Spring Since we circled its trunk our last chorus to sing. Maidens laughed at our shouts, they knew better than we; And the world clanked its chains as we cried, "We are free." On the wall hangs a Horseshoe I found in the street; 'Tis the shoe that to-day sets in motion my feet 'Tis a comfort, while Europe to freedom awoke Is peeping like chickens just free from their yolk To think Pope and Monarch their kingdoms may lose; Yet I hang my subject wherever I choose. He goes on in a more serious strain to sketch the history of superstition and ends with an eloquent aspiration for a day of universal peace: