He always remembered to carry pennies in his pocket for the man to put on his skates, or oranges for the children. [Sidenote: Fawcett as Host.] In 1859 Fawcett, who had recently opened a correspondence with Mill, hospitably asked him to the college Christmasing, but the great economist did not come. At different times Fawcett had many guests, notably Cobden, who came to see Fawcett in the summer of 1864 and charmed the Dons by his delightful urbanity. The great agitator was himself glad to make the discovery that Dons abate their political prejudice to be hospitable. Professor Huxley was also gladly welcomed by Fawcett, besides other scientists, politicians, economists, and lawyers, famous in their time, and who if not immortals now at all events did their share to create that great epoch of betterment in the English world, the Victorian era. Fawcett had now become a well-known figure, and suffered the usual consequences. His strategy in self-preservation is described by one friend thus: [Sidenote: A Bore foiled.] ‘I was walking with him one day when he was stopped by the long conversation of a very uninteresting Professor. A few days later, when we were again walking, I told Fawcett of the approach of the same old bore. “How far off is he?” asked Fawcett. “About three hundred feet ... now about a hundred and fifty.” Fawcett’s pace kept quickening and quickening so that I could hardly keep up; when about twenty yards off his legs shot out like the huge pistons of an engine. I had to run to keep up with him. Like a flash of lightning we passed the Professor, Fawcett shouting as he sped furiously by, “How do you do, Professor? Very fine day. Good-bye”; and when the Professor in a few seconds was left a marvelling dot on the horizon, Fawcett turned to me and said, “He’s even slower than he looks!”’ Fawcett revelled in Cambridge society, and constantly compared it with London, to its great disadvantage. He felt that no continuity was possible in the talk of London drawing-rooms, and that an enormous amount of time was lost in unnecessary pioneering before one could discover a ground of common interest. At last when you were established comfortably on this ground, you were briskly whirled away to repeat the tragedy in some other circle. He had no patience with the early break-up of London dinner-parties, owing to the custom of moving on to other functions, and he staunchly refused to go to ‘At Homes.’ [Sidenote: Cambridge Society.] In Cambridge life was so much simpler, men knew each other, so that no time was lost by preliminaries, and one could still have ‘talk such as Johnson enjoyed at the Turk’s Head.’ One had only to walk across a court to meet old friends, to strike at once into the vital things one cared about. Here serious subjects were considered seriously, and by men who were young enough to feel what they had to say and hope that their opinions would jog the old world a little from its hackneyed course.