This was equalled by the wife of an Irish landlord who lost her purse in the Ladies' Gallery of the House of Commons.
Mrs. Gladstone, who had been sitting next her, after kindly assisting in the ineffectual search, observed:—
'I hope there was not much in it.'
'No, it was a nice little purse I had had for a long time, but thanks to your husband there was nothing in it.'
An Irish story of Magee's concerns an Orange clergyman in Fermanagh, who asked leave to preach a sermon by Magee. Now, this clergyman, who was an ambitious man, was rather ashamed of his mother, and would not let her live at the parsonage, but had taken lodgings for her in the town. Magee, moreover, always a moderate man, did not like Orange sermons, and most certainly had never composed one. As he good naturedly did not want to offend the other, he said he would give him a capital sermon to deliver if he—Magee—might select the text.
'Of course, of course,' assented the other; 'what is it?'
'"From that time His disciple took her to his own house."'
Even this was hardly so cutting as his remark, when a bishop, to a clergyman of whom he did not think highly, but who upbraided him for not giving him a living.
'Sir, if it were raining livings, the utmost I could do would be to lend you an umbrella.'
Mention of Magee suggests an ecclesiastical tale concerning a most convivial attorney—George Faith by name—who had rather a red nose, which he explained was caused by wearing tight boots.