If any unsuccessful schoolmate, who had no other claim on him, wrote for help, he was always sure to get it. In his interviews he was marvellously patient, would never let a person leave him in anger or displeasure; few people left him without being his friends. If he said a sharp thing to any one, he confessed at once, and was not happy until he had made full amends; any irritable action towards another on his part caused him much more suffering than he inflicted. His real democratic feeling and disregard of rank put him at his ease with all classes, his abounding geniality and accessibility often placed him in difficult predicaments from which it required a lively ingenuity successfully to extricate himself. Once while he was walking, a well-known bore buttonholed the Postmaster-General, and explained at length how the Post Office might be regenerated. Fawcett listened patiently for five minutes; then when it was clear that the man had no idea or facts to offer, but only words, Fawcett held out his hand, saying, ‘Good day, Mr. J——, I am much obliged to you for your kind wish to help me,’ and walked on, leaving the bore, who felt himself just warming to his work, helplessly stranded. [Sidenote: His Dog.] His servants and his friends loved him; he was wonderfully considerate to all dependants, and indeed to every one whom he met. Certainly he was over-attentive to his dog Oddo, who had emerged from a refuge of lost dogs to assume the high office of watch-dog in the garden of the London house. Fawcett was deeply interested in the higher education of this humble friend, and their common affection was very warm. [Sidenote: Sudden Friendships.] His friendships were so sudden, at times so instantaneous, that their strength and duration was surprising. He had an incredible number of people whom he called in all sincerity his intimate friends, and, as one of them says, ‘all the overgrowth of new friendship seemed rather to strengthen than to stifle the earlier ties.’ As we have recorded, even the voice of an acquaintance once made, was to him unforgettable. When walking in London with his sister, Fawcett met the Primate of New Zealand, who had been at Cambridge with him. They had not met for many years, and the Primate did not wish to trouble Fawcett by recalling a long-ago acquaintanceship. But Miss Fawcett, recognising him, stopped, and as soon as the Primate spoke, Fawcett exclaimed with delight, ‘Why, it’s Nevill!’ [Sidenote: Postmaster and Pigs.] At Salisbury he invariably called on his father’s old farm servant, Rumbold. Rumbold was one day giving to Fawcett’s mother the last news from his sties, and he added ‘Mind you tell Master Harry when you write to him, for if there’s one thing he cares about, ‘tis pigs.’ Truly it was one thing, though it is generally suspected that the Postmaster had other interests.