Sir Leslie Stephen, speaking of the photograph reproduced to face p. 26, says, ‘The rather peculiar expression of the eyes results from the weakness of sight presently to be noticed which made him shrink from any strong light.’ ‘On my first glimpse of Fawcett, however, I was troubled by a question of classification. I vaguely speculated as to whether he was an undergraduate, or a young farmer, or possibly somebody connected with horses at Newmarket, come over to see the sights. He had a certain rustic air, in strong contrast to that of the young Pendennises who might stroll along the bank to make a book upon the next boat race. [Illustration: HENRY FAWCETT BEFORE HE WAS BLIND] ‘He rather resembled some of the athletic figures who may be seen at the side of a north-country wrestling-ring. Indeed, I fancy that Fawcett may have inherited from his father some of the characteristics of the true long-legged, long-limbed Dandie Dinmont type of north-countryman. The impression was, no doubt, fixed in my mental camera because I was soon afterwards surprised by seeing my supposed rustic dining in our College Hall. I insist upon this because it may indicate Fawcett’s superficial characteristics on his first appearance at Cambridge. ‘Many qualities, which all his friends came to recognise sooner or later, were for the present rather latent, or, maybe, undeveloped. The first glance revealed the stalwart, bucolic figure, with features stamped by intelligence, but that kind of intelligence which we should rather call shrewdness than by any higher name.’ [Sidenote: Sports and Games.] At first the men of his own year were inclined to estimate Harry as an outsider in sports and games. His simple provincial ways gave little sign of expert skill. But he won his way in dramatic fashion. An undergraduate nick-named the ‘Captain’ challenged him to a game of quoits. Salisbury’s native game is quoits; Harry was well trained, and won easily. Then the battle shifted to billiards. Captain’s score pushed steadily ahead until in a game of a hundred points he had ninety-six to Harry’s seventy-five: four points more for the Captain, twenty-five for Harry. The onlookers vociferously offered ten to one on the Captain. Fawcett gravely took all the bets offered at this rate, and any others that he could get, and then calmly, in a single break, made the twenty-five necessary points. [Sidenote: A successful Game of Billiards.] Fawcett is quoted as having given this account, ‘Bets were forced on me; but the odds were really more than ten to one against my making twenty-five in any position of the balls, but I saw a stroke which I knew that I could make, and which would leave me a fine game.’ No matter by what magic the feat was achieved, it filled his pockets, and cleared for ever any doubts in his companions’ minds as to the capacity and shrewdness of ‘Old Serpent,’ as he was then dubbed, and by which nickname he went for a brief time.