This, again, works with perfect smoothness and never arouses the ill-feeling aroused by the selections nominally made by the Prime Minister.  To-day the Foundations of Belief may not be an essay which causes confidence in the ability of the author to pick the best bishops, and all the much-vaunted religious convictions of Mr. Gladstone did not make his nominations to the Episcopacy particularly successful.  It is now no secret that Lord Cairns used 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:—­