We had now to go to a little retired house on the Champs Elysees. There were only three or four carriages before the door, and on ascending to a small but very near apartment, I found some twenty people collected. The mistress of the house was an English lady, single, of a certain age, and a daughter of the Earl of ----, who was once governor of New York. Here was a very different set. One or two ladies of the old court, women of elegant manners, and seemingly of good information,--several English women, pretty, quiet, and clever, besides a dozen men of different nations. This was one of those little _reunions_ that are so common in Paris, among the foreigners, in which a small infusion of French serves to leaven a considerable batch of human beings from other parts of the world. As it is always a relief to me to speak my own language, after being a good while among foreigners, I staid an hour at this house. In the course of the evening an Irishman of great wit and of exquisite humour, one of the paragons of the age in his way, came in. In the course of conversation, this gentleman, who is the proprietor of an Irish estate, and a Catholic, told me of an atrocity in the laws of his country, of which until then I was ignorant. It seems that any younger brother, next heir, might claim the estate by turning Protestant, or drive the incumbent to the same act. I was rejoiced to hear that there was hardly an instance of such profligacy known.[26] To what baseness will not the struggle for political ascendency urge us! [Footnote 26: I believe this infamous law, however, has been repealed.] In the course of the evening, Mr. ----, the Irish gentleman, gravely introduced me to a Sir James ----, adding, with perfect gravity, "a gentleman whose father humbugged the Pope--humbugged infallibility." One could not but be amused with such an introduction, urged in a way so infinitely droll, and I ventured, at a proper moment, to ask an explanation, which, unless I was also humbugged, was as follows:--