The Henson Journals
Sat 1 September 1917
Volume 21, Page 166
[166]
Saturday, September 1st, 1917.
1125th day
At last a fine morning with cooler temperature, & a blue sky. But the promise was delusive, & rain was falling when I went to Mattins. After service I walked through the rain to S. Giles' in order to attend the funeral of old Alderman Charlton. The Wesleyan minister, a large hairy man, read the lesson. As I passed through the Cathedral I fell in with a youth who looked intelligent, & talked with him. He was a Papist from Preston on the verge of the military age, & worked as a clerk in the municipal office. He was bicycling through the country on his holiday, & was now making his way home. I showed him the Nine Altars & the Galilee, & then the Library & the Deanery. Then I sent him over to the Castle, & bade him return for lunch. This in due course he did, & we lunched in much friendship: & so parted. His name was John Caton. He told me that there more Catholics than Protestants in Preston & that there was no ill–feeling between them. I attended Evensong. As I came out of the cathedral a young man with a pleasant–looking little boy in tow accosted me. They were little Lord Feversham and his tutor who are staying at Lumley with Lady Londonderry. Gilbert Darwin came to fetch me for a walk. The rain fell in torrents, & the wind blew a hurricane before we reached Dryburn. There I had tea with Mrs Darwin. Colonel Darwin came in, & afterwards accompanied me as far as the station on my way home. He says that our casualities are now about 5000 daily: that recruiting is in a bad way: that Sir Wm. Robertson has asked for 500,000 men, & only succeeded in getting 200,000! I see with very deep regret that the only son of Sir William Osler has been killed. The young man was for a while stationed at Newcastle, and I remember Lady Osler bringing him here for lunch. Thus daily the blood of our sons, the best promise of our nation, is poured out, and still the victory tarries. Usquequoque Domine [‘always oh Lord?']? Hughes arrived from Blanchland for the weekend. After dinner, I wrote up my journal, and also wrote my daily letter to my wife. The tempestuous day ended with a still eventide.