had. Lowell was a man of great wit, and a favorite with
the Boston Bar when he was appointed. So they made the best
of him. They were not inclined to receive Nelson's appointment
very graciously. It was some years before he established
a high place in their confidence and esteem. But it was established
before his death. Gray and Putnam and Webb, all in their
way lawyers of the first class, found Nelson a most valuable
and acceptable associate, and have all spoken of him in most
enthusiastic terms. He was a good naturalist. He knew the
song-birds, their habits, and dwelling-places. He knew all
the stars. He liked to discuss difficult and profound questions
of public policy, constitutional law, philosophy, and metaphysics.
Sometimes, when I came home from Washington after a period
of hard work, if I happened to find Nelson in the cars when
I went to Boston, it was almost painful to spend an hour with
him, although his conversation was very profound and interesting.
But it was like attempting to take up and solve a difficult
problem in geometry. I was tired, and wanted to be humming
a negro melody to myself. He was a man of absolute integrity,
not caring whether he pleased or displeased anybody. He had
a good deal of literary knowledge, was specially fond of Emerson,
and knew him very thoroughly, both prose and verse. He had
a good deal of wit, one of the brightest examples of which
I will not undertake to quote here. He was a civil engineer
in his youth, and was always valuable in complicated questions
of boundary, or cases like our sewer and water cases, which
require the application of practical mathematics. He was
a friendly and placable person so far as he was concerned
himself, but resented, with great indignation, any unkindness
toward any of his friends or household. His friend and associate,
Judge Webb, after his death spoke with great beauty and pathos
of Nelson's love of nature and of his old county home:

"When, in later years, he revisited the scenes of his childhood,
he made no effort to conceal his affection for them; as he
wandered among the mountains and along the valleys, so dearly
remembered, his eye would grow bright, his face beam with
pleasure, and his voice sound with the tone of deep sensibility.
He grew eloquent as he described the beauty spread out before
him, and lovingly dwelt on the majesty and grandeur of the
mountain at the foot of which his infancy was cradled. It
was