"you doubt if the toes That are trodden upon are your own or your foe's." {251} We spoke of printers' perennial errors; and he quoted two new to me--one from the prospectus of a new company: "Six thousand _snares_ of five pounds each"; and the other from a speech of Lord Carnarvon: "Every clergyman is expected nowadays to have the intellect and wisdom of a Jeremy Taylor"--the last two words being transformed by a reporter into "journeyman tailor!" The word "clergyman" (in these days somewhat discredited) suggested to my friend Tennyson's dictum: "The majority of Englishmen think of God as an immeasurable clergyman in a white tie"; and to me a line from the same poet's "May Queen," which had always seemed to me the _ne plus ultra_ of bathos:[6] "And that good man, the clergyman, has spoken words of peace." I stayed a night at Kelburn on my way north to congratulate my brother-in-law, as it was not only his eightieth birthday, but his fortieth wedding-anniversary also fell this year. I was glad to find myself at home again after five weeks' absence; but it was only for a few weeks, as I had to go to Yorkshire in June, for the quinquennial General Chapter of our Order at Ampleforth, where our first business was to re-elect and install Abbot Gasquet as our abbot-president.[7] I attended, a few days later, {252} a dinner of our Catholic Etonian Association. Shane Leslie and (Mgr.) Hugh Benson both made capital speeches, and I had the honour of proposing _Floreat Etona_. George Lane Fox (a _quondam_ captain of the boats) was our president; and it was interesting to learn that among Catholic Etonians were three old captains of oppidans, Lords Abingdon and North, and Sir Francis Burnand. I stayed for this function with the kind Oratorians, who always had one or two Etonians in their community.[8] Their spacious house was delightfully quiet, and the verdant shady garden might have been two miles, instead of a bare two hundred yards, from the bustle and traffic of Brompton Road. I assisted next day in their church at the marriage of another Etonian Catholic, Sir Joseph Tichborne, and looked with interest on the smart young lifeguardsman, son of the baby defendant in the famous lawsuit more than forty years before. It is hard now to realize the _furore_ caused by the great "Tichborne Case," which sapped old friendships and engendered lasting animosities among people who had no earthly connection with it[9]--for the old English Catholic families, which _were_ {253} closely interested in the matter, took it very quietly and never discussed it in public. I have never known since any popular excitement in the least like it.