On a voyage across the ocean an Irishman died and was about to be buried at sea. His friend Mike was the chief mourner at the burial service, at the conclusion of which those in charge wrapped the body in canvas preparatory to dropping it overboard. It is customary to place heavy shot with a body to insure its immediate sinking, but in this instance, nothing else being available, a large lump of coal was substituted. Mike's cup of sorrow overflowed his eyes, and he tearfully exclaimed,
"Oh, Pat, I knew you'd never get to heaven, but, begorry, I didn't think you'd have to furnish your own fuel."
An Irishman told a man that he had fallen so low in this life that in the next he would have to climb up hill to get into hell.
When P.T. Barnum was at the head of his "great moral show," it was his rule to send complimentary tickets to clergymen, and the custom is continued to this day. Not long ago, after the Reverend Doctor Walker succeeded to the pastorate of the Reverend Doctor Hawks, in Hartford, there came to the parsonage, addressed to Doctor Hawks, tickets for the circus, with the compliments of the famous showman. Doctor Walker studied the tickets for a moment, and then remarked:
"Doctor Hawks is dead and Mr. Barnum is dead; evidently they haven't met."
Archbishop Ryan once attended a dinner given him by the citizens of Philadelphia and a brilliant company of men was present. Among others were the president of the Pennsylvania Railroad; ex-Attorney-General MacVeagh, counsel for the road, and other prominent railroad men.