LONDON, Monday, March 18th, 1872.
—A cosy scratch dinner of Uncle Dick, Prime Minister and Mrs., Mesd. Talbot and Johnny. Talked Churchums a good deal —it amused me to think, as I listened to Uncle W.'s regular old-fashioned, rather Conservative, and strongly anti-Roman High Churchism, how many Whalley-Newdigateites put him down as a Jesuit in disguise. I had to spend a vast deal of eloquence in Jamaica upon Mrs. Fisher, to get her out of this notion, and doubt if I succeeded. Hot Protestant maukins love to send impudent demands as to whether he is a papist or not, with delicate intimations that mental reservations are probably to be expected of him.
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