to choose bishops for Disraeli and
that Lord Shaftesbury often was consulted by Prime Ministers who knew
more about sport than clericalism.

So far as I can recollect, among all the Irish clergy I have met not one
was an Englishman, though there are plenty of Irish in the English
Established Church.

All the Disestablished Church of Ireland is exceedingly
anti-ritualistic.

'I do not want Mock-Turtle, when I am so near real Turtle,' said Sir
George Shiel, when asked to visit St. Alban's, Holborn, one of the
Ritualistic temples--an observation which represents the feeling
animating clergy and laity in Ireland, though they are none the better
pleased that out of the funds of the Disestablishment, Maynooth should
have received a capitalised sum equal to the previous annual grant from
Government.

And now for just a few clerical tales.

A man was dying and the priest was with him.

'Ah, Father Philip,' said the poor fellow, 'I am sure the likes of you
would never be deceiving a poor man and him on his deathbed. Tell me
straight, is my soul all right?'

'It is, my son, and in a very short time you'll be in the company of the
Blessed Saints.'

'In that case, Father, I'll tell the devil he may just kiss my toe and
bad luck to him for all the trouble I have had to get out of his
clutches,' and the priest noticed his last sigh was one of complete
satisfaction--no doubt anticipatory.

Purgatory forms the foundation of many stories.

A certain very poor widow was paying the priest money for the soul of
her son, who was killed in a faction fight.

'And it's more masses you must have Mrs. Murphy, for Paddy has only got
his red hair out of purgatory.'

Later, when she was asked for further contributions:--

'It's his mouth which is out now, and he sends his mother on earth
messages to have prayers said to get him to heaven.'

A third time did Widow Murphy give the priest what she could not in the
least afford.

Yet again he reported progress.

'Now you must make a great effort, for his head and shoulders are out of
purgatory.'

'Then it's devil another penny of mine will go for masses, for if my Pat
has his head and shoulders out, I can safely reckon he'll soon wriggle
himself away entirely, God bless the poor darling.'

Another purgatory tale, this time concerning Father Batt.

A fellow-priest came to see him, and over a friendly glass:--

'And what's the news?' asked Father Batt.

'None that I know on