With the precocious maturity of Charles Dilke's intellect had gone a slowness of development in other directions. It is true that those Cambridge men who remember him as an undergraduate remember him as serious, but full of high animal spirits and sense of fun; while everyone speaks of his charm and gaiety. "We were all in love with him," says one vivacious old lady, who belonged to the circle of connections and relatives that frequented 76, Sloane Street. But the letters of his early days at Cambridge hardly show that 'happiness of manner' which his grandfather attributed to him. Only now does the whole personality begin to emerge, as in a letter of 1864, in which he begs his grandfather, because "writing is irksome to you," to send two very short letters rather than one longer one; "for the receipt of a letter gives me an excuse to write again, while on the other hand I can by habit catch your meaning by the first words of your shortest criticisms." The rest of the sheet was occupied by very able analysis of an article which had been published in the _Athenaeum_--criticism mature and manly both in thought and expression. The change did not escape the shrewd observer. Mr. Dilke replied: "ALICE HOLT, "BY FARNHAM, SURREY, "_July 28th_, 1864. "MY VERY DEAR GRANDSON, "Your letters give me very great pleasure, not because they are kind and considerate, of which I had evidence enough long since, not because they flatter the vanity of the old man by asking his opinion, which few now regard, but because I see in them a gradual development of your own mind." He added a few words in praise of the analysis, but pointed out that the reviewer, whom Charles Dilke censured, was treating a well-worn subject-- Bentham's Philosophy--and therefore needed to aim at freshness of view rather than thoroughness of exposition. He added: "I, however, am delighted with the Article, which is full of promise of a coming man by which the old journal may benefit." Save for a final "God bless you!" from "as ever, your affectionate Grand.," that was the last word written by Mr. Dilke to his grandson. Within a week he was struck down by what proved to be his fatal illness. Early on August 8th Charles Dilke wrote to his father that he was deterred from coming home only by the fear lest his sudden arrival might "frighten grandfather about himself and make him worse." A few hours later he was summoned. The rest may be given in his own words: