In October 1950,1 arrived in Cambridge, encrusted with the salt of a rough Channel crossing. On the very day of my arrival, I called upon Professor Lauterpacht in his tiny study in the Squire Law Library. As I came into his office, Lauterpacht showed out a lean, erect visitor whom he described as 'Captain Baxter, such a nice, polite man.' 'Of the British Army?' I asked. 'No, the American.' Lauterpacht surveyed my bizarre and battered travel wear with an amused eye, asked some questions about my Harvard College background and Cambridge intentions, and invited me to lunch at his home the next weekend. There I met his wife Rachel, who was to shower hospitality upon me to the end of her days, and their son Eli. Eh* assured me that the law was not only interesting, but amusing. Perceiving that I was in need of sagacious instruction, the Professor arranged for Eli to be my tutor on his almost weekly visits to Cambridge. While just appointed a Fellow of Trinity College, Eli then was living in London and occupied with the Bar. Nagendra Singh and I were his first pupils. From these encounters sprung three of my life's deepest friendships, with Professor Herscb Lauterpacht as he then was, with Eli, and with Richard Baxter. My Cambridge experience was further enlivened by Derek Bowett, another of Lauterpacht's prized students, as Baxter and I became. Bowett has said to me that he never thought of entering academic life until Lauterpacht advised him to do so.