It is possible that these two were drawn to each other by their great differences—Macmillan to Fawcett’s strong, dogged common sense, and Fawcett to that esoteric vein in his friend’s mentality. The following incident brings out strongly this contrast. Macmillan was popular with the graduates, who often spent interesting evenings at his house. One day he in turn was their guest in the Common Room. He held the floor in an extremely metaphysical conversation. Fawcett, who cared little for such talk and always said that philosophy ran off him like water off a duck’s back, showed scant interest in the proceedings. Macmillan became more and more introspective and transcendental, and finally exclaimed, ‘I often wonder, Fawcett, what I am here for,’ to which Fawcett cheerfully replied, ‘O Macmillan, we all know what you are here for—to bring out another edition of Hamblin Smith’s _Arithmetic_.’ [Sidenote: _Manual of Political Economy._] [Sidenote: Candidate for the Chair of Political Economy.] Fawcett’s _Manual of Political Economy_ appeared early in 1863, when he was in his thirtieth year. He regarded his book merely as an introduction to Mill’s larger work, which he said ‘will be remembered as one of the most enduring productions of the nineteenth century.’ The manual was very well received, and opened the way for Fawcett to succeed the then Professor of Political Economy, Professor Pryne, who was in failing health. On the death of this gentleman the choice for a successor lay among four candidates. The great ability of one of these, then Mr. Leonard H. Courtney, now Lord Courtney, was already recognised. As, however, residents were preferred to strangers, the real contest was reduced to the two local candidates, Fawcett and Mayor. Fawcett’s book was his chief asset in the struggle, and it, together with his discussion at the London Political Economy Club, of which he was a member, constituted the chief claims urged by his many influential friends throughout the country. They wrote the usual laudatory letters, but with perhaps more than the usual heartiness. Nevertheless, his blindness seemed a probable barrier to his ambition. Even one of his dearest friends refused to uphold his claims, feeling that a blind man could not properly fill the post, and there was much sincere doubt whether a man who could not see could keep order in his lecture-room. In addition to this, Fawcett’s frank Radicalism counted against him; he had already, as we shall see in a later chapter, twice been a candidate for Parliament in the Liberal interest, the last time in Cambridge itself.