In 1872 R. C. Jebb had been appointed a tutor of Trinity. In many ways the position was agreeable to him. He liked the bright friendliness of young men, for some of whom he soon grew to have an affection, and he knew enough of the heedless follies of their age to give them more sympathy than rebuke in their scrapes and troubles. Once, when some men went so far as to stop a mailcart—fortunately empty—remove the driver and take the reins into their own hands—thereby bringing themselves very much within the reach of the law; when an Official came down from London to make inquiries, and terror filled their minds with visions of a possible gaol and certainly irate parents—he succeeded in pacifying the stern instrument of the law; who even consented to stay and dine, and join in a loving cup with the chief criminal, having discovered the latter to be the son of an old friend.

But there were other duties belonging to a tutor's office which no ingenuity could make agreeable to a man whose nature abhorred accounts, and who felt it almost an impertinence to watch over a pupil's outlay, and check his kitchen expenses. After two years of tutorial work, he resigned the position and felt a great relief when disburdened of duties some of which were so alien to his nature.