tleman's
habits, your riverince.'

And then they walked off different ways.

Which reminds me of another clerical incident.

A parish priest within twenty miles of Tralee, who subsequently left the
Church--I will not say on account of his thirst, though, as that was
unquenchable, it no doubt conduced to his retirement--came into the
parlour of the manager of the bank with two farmers to have a bill
discounted.

The manager, having ascertained the farmers were good security, cashed
the bill and gave the proceeds to the priest. He was very much surprised
on the following day at the two farmers walking into his room with the
money.

'What's the meaning of this?' says he.

'Well, your honour, we could not stay in the parish, if we refused to
join his reverence in the deal, which was sure to be a very bad one for
us. So we thought the best thing to do was to get him a little hearty at
his own expense on the way home. And then we picked his pocket and have
brought the money to your honour, whilst he is cursing every thief
outside his parish, and will probably ask the congregation to make up
the amount next Sunday.'

And that is a true story, and as illustrative of the Irish peasant as
any you could ever get told to you.

A coffin-maker named Sullivan thrived in Tralee. He received an order
for a coffin for a man living about six miles away from the town. It was
not called for for a week, and so he went out to the house where the man
lay dead to inquire the cause.

When he came back to Tralee, he said to a friend:--

'Who do you think I saw, Mick, but that scoundrel of a corpse sitting in
a ditch eating a piece of pig's cheek.'

That reminds me of another coffin story.

A man who lived in Cork was notorious for being always behind time for
everything. He knew his failing, and was rather touchy about it.

One night, stumbling out of a whisky shop, he lurched into a yard, fell
against a door, which gave way, and finished his slumbers peacefully in
the shed, which was the storehouse of an undertaker.

In the morning he awoke, rubbed his eyes in astonishment at the strange
surroundings amid which he found himself, and after recollecting his own
pet proclivity, as he ruefully surveyed all the empty coffins,
ejaculated:--

'Just my usual luck. Late for the Resurrection.'

Which recalls another tale:--

A man was dead drunk, so some friends, for a lark, brought him into a
dark room, lit a lot of phosphorus, and