The next few years are marked by no events of an exceptional nature. Term succeeded term, and vacation vacation; time slipped by in University life quickly and almost without notice. The “Diary” letters, now addressed to his mother, are records of lectures given, books read, reviews written for the “Saturday,” to which he has become a weekly contributor. He likes, indeed loves, some of his pupils, who quickly become his friends, and does his best to make them work; and he never seems to have a single meal alone. The old “Tea Club” of his undergraduate days, which was instituted by a group who disliked four o'clock hall, had ended naturally when most of its members went down, but other clubs sprang up in its place. Next to the meetings of the “Society,” he found dining with the “Convivialists” (Rothschild, Flower, Kenyon) as their guest at their weekly dinner parties most enjoyable. They seem to have gathered about them almost everyone of interest in the University. It was a very brilliant group in Trinity at that time that made the inner circle of Jebb's friends. Even their amusements were an intellectual exercise: acrostics were the fashion of the moment, and the late Mr F. W. H. Myers is my authority for saying that “none were ever written Jebb could not solve.”