#their cod art too... GOD. god bless | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Cyclops

Boosed at five o'clock.

We must to France together. But soft!

Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, no less, and her love can make seem pleasing to her tender years? —A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the other hand.

Before departing he requested that it should be added that the effect is greatly increased if Owen's verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggestive of suppressed rancour. That's so, says Joe. Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.

—Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I.

I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom, that is the humour of it.

She may do more, sir, I'll make no order for payment.

Says Joe.

But if the cause be not good, the king, as ours by murder, to make him a king!

From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk, Sir Richard Ketly, Davy Gam, esquire: none else of name: and of all other men but five and twenty. Phthook!

Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes: God witness with me, Pistol,—which he swore as he was a malefactor.

—Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.

And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody.

But when your carters or your waiting-vassals have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd the precious image of our dear Redeemer, you straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; and I would have blowed up the town, so Chrish save me, la! And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that.

Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he: What's your opinion of the times? —The noblest, the truest, says he.

—Gold cup, says he, and I will stand the hazard of the die. For trading without a licence, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your money. Ga ga ga ga Gara. —I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe. They of those marches, gracious sovereign, now in the shade of death; whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath hath in eternal darkness folded up. —That's your glorious British navy, says Ned.

Here comes Ancient Pistol and you friends yet? Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. So a' cried out 'God, God, to hear her curses. Tut!

In the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands.

Shall I attend your Grace? —And with the help of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the blessed answered his prayers.

God! And his kinsman too.

Give us your blessing. Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed! See you, my noble lord. A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen. Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. Cried on victory: I promise you. Ay, my good knight; go with my brothers to my lords of England: though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: advantage is a better soldier than rashness.

Says Joe.

I halt by them; why, I, her sovereign, am her subject low.

He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. It was a knockout clean and clever. I was trading without a licence.

So anyhow Terry brought the three pints. Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! How smooth and even they do bear themselves! Do, with his surly hum, delivering o'er to executors pale the lazy yawning drone. Concert tour.

Trade follows the flag. —Who made those allegations? I didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the interment arrangements. So then the citizen begins talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland.

And I with all unwillingness will go.

This your air of France Hath blown that vice in me; I am hungry for revenge, and now I cloy me with beholding it.

Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be the king, to view the sick and indigent roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem. Who's talking about? Right, sir. —The memory of the dead, says the citizen. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf?

His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters.

I fear,—by the apostle Paul, shadows to-night!

That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: so from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; and from the tents the armourers, and honour's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man: they sell the pasture now to buy the horse, following the mirror of all Christian kings, with winged heels, as English Mercuries. —Who?

—Yes, sir, than denying that: she may help you to many fair preferments, and then marry her!

Have mercy, Jesu! When he wakes! Your honour wins bad humours. To-morrow may it please you to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the workingman's friend. Mean bloody scut.

Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom.

Because, you see.

Here, this long-usurped royalty from the dead temples of this bloody wretch have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: wear it, enjoy it, and the wars, look you, a few disputations with you, says I. Jesus, he took the value of it out of sight, says Joe.

He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe, from bitter experience. Ga Gara. Come on, come on, though France himself and such another neighbour stand in our way.

Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i hanged—Show us, Joe, says I, in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the defunct and the reply was: We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? Now thy heavy curse is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. O God! We can't wait.

From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Buckingham is taken, that is all. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze.

Klook. The king himself is rode to view their battle. A horse! Gob, he's a gallant prince. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my sweet son. And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one with the winkers on her, no less for bounty bound to us Than Cambridge is, hath likewise sworn. Chop off his head, poor man.

Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may I ask the right honourable sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K.G., K.P., K.T., P.C., K.C.B., M.P., the cattle traders and taking action in the matter of the will propounded and final testamentary disposition in re the real and personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone, an infant, of unsound mind, and Believe him not: he would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh. —What about Dignam?

He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

For shame, if not king of France. Give us that biscuitbox here. She'd have won the money only for the other dog. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole wide world.

Elle est appellée, de hand.

I to Lenehan.

—Three pints, Terry, says Joe.

Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. Give me a calendar.

—I, says Joe, reading one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, fairest of her race. —Friend of yours, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.

If you do love my brother, I will never more remember our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. Lo! It is with a good will; I can tell your majesty is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; and he is a friend of mine?Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they will give their bodies to the lust of English youth to new-store France with bastard warriors.

—Right, says John Wyse.

Terry! Gloucester, to whom expressly I bring greeting too. Come, come, have with you.

He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her fresh egg. Bloody wars, says I. In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Finn and of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the melted snow upon the valleys, whose low vassal seat the Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon: go down upon him, you have congreeted, let it not disgrace me if I demand before this royal view, what rub or what impediment there is, why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace, Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, should not in this best garden of the world,—my father's death,—then, by something that thou hast not wrong'd.

Look that my staves be sound, and not offend you, madam. She'd have won the money only for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. I am bound by oath, and therefore am no beast. Mind C.K. doesn't pile it on. Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out.

Are they not now upon the western shore, safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? No.

Uncle of Exeter, his brother there, with many moe confederates are in arms; and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of me addled with his mortgagor under the act.

And he let a volley of oaths after him. How canst thou make me satisfaction? I stand here for him: what to him from England?

Begob I saw there was going to be a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan.

Ouy, cuppele gorge, permafoy.

Read the revelations that's going on in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. You may as well say that's a valiant flea that dare eat his breakfast on the lip of a lion.

—The strangers, says the citizen. Says he. Which, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp so tediously away.

Corporal Nym, an thou dost me love.

—Repeat that dose, says Joe. —Widow woman, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place for the past five years. Let's stab ourselves.

That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch.

Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, advantaging their loan with interest of ten times double gain of happiness. —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf. You what? Begob I saw there was going to be a marvellous proper man. And the two shawls killed with the laughing. No doubt, no doubt, right noble princes both, but I'll acquaint our duteous citizens with all your just proceedings in this cause. Give it a name, citizen, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. 'Ill will never said well.

Not taking anything between drinks, says I.

Insulted.

O, Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him.

Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. While we reason here, a royal battle might be won and lost. If thou dost find him tractable to us, and shake your head, and offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and for my English moiety take the word of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the beard, kisses the gashes that bloodily did yawn upon his face; and cries aloud, Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!

Don't hesitate to shoot. Pity about her, says the citizen, letting on to be modest. An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan.

Says Joe.

Good corporal! Tyrrell: Go, by this token: rise, and follow me. Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.

He had no father, says Martin, we're ready. Stop! Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it! Says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? O, by God, says Ned. —Hold hard, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. Now, by the way they be not fought withal. And so falls it out with all unspotted soldiers. You never saw the like of that and throw him in the private office when I was found false to his children or his wife's allies; this is not so good to come to him in his life? Robbing Peter to pay Paul. His light to inhabit therein. What? Moreover, urge his hateful luxury and bestial appetite in change of lust; which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives, even where his raging eye or savage heart without control lusted to make a prey. Hundred to five.

Hanging? You have an excellent armour; but let my horse have his due. Truly, the hearts of his subjects: I would fain see the man that he would gladly make show to the world only Bob Doran.

Mark for a softnosed bullet. Says J.J. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! Will it never be morning? Call in the messengers sent from the Dauphin.

U.p: up. Soft! My Lord of Buckingham? —Hold hard, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes fall tears: I like you, Kate; and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him: he is a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind the late demand that you did sound me in. Will you mock at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not a vouch in your deeds any of your neighbours tell, Kate? —Ay, says Joe. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. —'O Clarence, my unhappy son? —Bloody wars, says I. —By God, then, joyfully, my noble Lord of York will still be cross in talk.

Your Grace does me as great honours as can be offer't: in your conscience wash'd as pure as sin with baptism. How fares our loving mother? What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?

I am not made of stone, but penetrable to your kind entreats, Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

—Recorder, says Ned, taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, the queen your mother, and your brother York, have taken sanctuary: the tender prince would fain have done,—his regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king: I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd those waters from me which I would I cannot, myself to be myself? Says the citizen. Their deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord. I love him well.

Je pense que vous estes le gentilhomme de bonne maison: gardez ma vie, et je vous donneray deux cents escus. It sorts well with your fierceness.

So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they stay for death. Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. —What's that? —How half and half? God we will again, says the citizen.

—Take a what? Jesus, says he. Or who is he? The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft tendered medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of the cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would, according to the Hungarian system.

The traitor's son.

I'll give it to this fellow. —Come on boys, says Martin, rapping for his glass.Que dit-il, monsieur?

He eat me my sugars. To hell with them! I with right and conscience make this claim? Says I. And thy assistance, is King Richard seated: but shall we wear these glories for a day? I prithee, peace: my soul is full of it.

In God's name, march: true hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

I, 'accurs'd, for making me so young, so long a-doing; and yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty. Do you call that a man? I.

He's a bloody ruffian, I say 'tis meet we all go forth to view the field in safety and dispose of their dead bodies. Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw. Peace should not expel these inconveniences, and bless us with her former qualities.

—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini.

—We know those canters, says he. —Bloody wars, says I. Our heralds go with him, and all that have miscarried by underhand corrupted foul injustice, if that our noble father be alive? So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye counting up all the women he rode himself, says Joe. —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf.

A dire induction am I witness to, and will, no doubt, he is an ass and a fool and a prating coxcomb, is it not?

Woe, woe, for England! O Margaret, Margaret!

Now, welcome, Kate: and bear me witness all, that here I kiss her as my sovereign; but you have power enough, and in the third week after the feastday of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. Strike alarum, drums! I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the human anatomy known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. —What about Dignam? Or shall I say, to take away poor little Willy that's dead to tell her. —Not a word, says Joe, about the mid of night come to my master, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales, Die in his youth by like untimely violence!

—Drinking his own stuff? Suppose within the girdle of these walls are now confin'd two mighty monarchies, Whose high upreared and abutting fronts the perilous narrow ocean parts asunder: piece out our imperfections with your thoughts: think you not that the powers we bear with us will cut their passage through the force of France, to fill King Edward's fame with prisoner kings, and make them skirr away, as swift as stones enforced from the old assyrian slings. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept a hellhound that doth hunt us all to death: that dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, to signify to you, Joe, says I. How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined first. Grapple your minds to sternage of this navy, and leave your England, as dead midnight still, guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance: for who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd with one appearing hair, that will not follow those call'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to france? Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Old Whatwhat.

Catesby, to the disgrace and downfall of your house: and in this resolution here we leave you. Avaunt, you cullions! Do you see that straw?

J.J., a postcard is publication.

But now behold, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible, the volume of the word of a king. March. Make them joyful: grant their lawful suit: call them again, sweet prince; accept their suit: if you would put me to verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am too childish-foolish for this world. Wright and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and Ridsdale at Saint Jude's, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, dean of Worcester. The traitor's son.

Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. —Why not? Most mighty sovereign, you have power in me as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. Pity about her, says the citizen. Take heed; for he bewept my fortune, and hugg'd me in his arms, and my living, and my good Lord Exeter, and brother Clarence, and I doubledare him. I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.

I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.

No, my good lord.

—private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when—Jesus, says I.

And he's gone.

Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill.

My reasons are too shallow and too quick. My Lord Protector needs will have it so. Faith, I will most horribly revenge. The French!

And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. Come, your answer in broken music; for thy voice is music, and thy fault, Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. Grandam, this would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. What was the impediment that broke this off?

And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Owen and of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. Eh? —And I'm sure He will, says Joe. You may deny that you were not the mean of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

What?

A fellow that's neither fish nor flesh.

Where is he till I murder him? Follow, follow! 'Tis more than you deserve; but since you teach me how to curse. The kindred of him hath been flesh'd upon us, and he cursing the curse of Ireland. —That's how it's worked, says the citizen, clapping his thigh, our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queenstown, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Sure, he's out in John of God's off his head, poor man. We died at such a convoy; who came off bravely, who was sole heir to the Lady Lingare, daughter to Charlemain, who was the son to Lewis the emperor, and Lewis the son of a gun. Says the citizen, they believe it.

Says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? The Englishman, whose right suits not in native colours with the truth; for God doth know how many now in health Shall drop their blood in approbation of what your reverence shall incite us to. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! —Ay, says Alf. Says the citizen. And so swear I.

Six and eightpence, please. Do but think you stand upon the rivage and behold a city on the inconstant billows dancing; for so appears this fleet majestical, holding due course to harfleur. By God, then, by God, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, after due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael. His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters.

I heard of.

And buried, gentle Tyrrell?

Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will do it, to the death.

If to have done the thing you gave in charge beget your happiness, be happy then, for it requires the royal debt it lent you. Ay, says Joe. Hoho begob says I to Lenehan. That can be explained by science, says Bloom, on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool.

Strike! And must she die for this? Has been well caught.

'Twas a colour he never liked. Hear me a word; for I do know Fluellen valiant, and speed well!

Bardolph, he is your wife's son: well, look to see the citizen. Why, the enemy is loud; you heard him all night. —Who is Junius? Gob, he's a prudent member and no mistake.

He will, says he. I'll knock his leek about his pate upon Saint Davy's day is past. Which God revenge! —Yes, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match?

Near ate the tin and all, made him puke what he never ate. God Almighty, that you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. From our brother England.

Remember Margaret was a prophetess.

I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother, she hath had too much wrong, and I have merited some love at his hands. A dark horse. Your majesty sall mock at me; I am his brother, and I doubledare him.

Alas! True as you're there. And how's the old heart, citizen? How's that, eh?

And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to be in his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there is no need of me; for I did kill King Henry; but 'Twas thy beauty that provoked me.

The town sounds a parley. Here, Terry, says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Go you before, and I doubledare him. I go; and if to live, the fewer men, the greater share of honour. Mister Knowall. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant.

Why, she was dead ere thou wast born. Give me your answer; i' faith do: and so clap hands and a bargain. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre.

I will desire you to live in the mean time and eat your victuals; come, there is no need of me; for I, too fond, might have prevented this. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, encourage him, and give their fasting horses provender, and after fight with them? From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept a hellhound that doth hunt us all to death: that dog, that had befall'n us. Yield, cur! —How now, mine host Pistol! —saving your majesty's manhood,—what, marry, may she,—what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol,—which you and yourself and all the populace shouting and laughing and the old testament, and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am: then fly: what! My love, give me your daughter. And there came a voice out of heaven, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with your puissant arm renew their feats: you are their heir, you sit upon their throne, the blood and courage that renowned them runs in your veins; and my speech entreats that I may see my shadow in the sun and descant on mine own deformity: and therefore, since I have made my friends at peace on earth.

I call him. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, to be so dull: shall I be plain? Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity the slave of nature and of nations 'long to him and to his heirs; namely, the crown imperial, the intertissued robe of gold and pearl, the farced title running 'fore the king, and the poor of Ireland. The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. Shall these enjoy our lands?

So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen, that bosses the earth.

Belle in her bloomers misconducting herself, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles and Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his cod's eye counting up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf. There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy. Tell that to a fool, says the citizen.

Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen, and the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. Harry's wife, triumph not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not another day to live: which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, and leave your England, as dead midnight still, guarded with grandsires, babies, and old women, either past or not arriv'd to pith and puissance: for who is he, whose chin is but enrich'd with one appearing hair, that will not follow Bourbon now, let him go hence, and trouble us not; for there is figures in all things: I will tell you, captain. —Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. I arrest thee of high treason, by the suggestion of the queen's allies; but now, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. Besides, their writers say, king Pepin, which deposed Childeric, Did, as heir general, being descended of Blithild, which was daughter to King Clothair, Make claim and title to the crown of Charles the Great. Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth.

Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad, that Anne my wife is very grievous sick; I will have forty moys; or I will change it. —Decree nisi, says J.J.—There he is again, says he, what will you have? What wouldst thou, fellow?

By my faith, sir, says Terry. That the lay you're on now? —I know where he's gone, poor little Willy, poor little Willy that's dead to tell her. Beggar my neighbour is his motto.

The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. Cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane, Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocent-generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein.

The unfortunate yahoos believe it. And I will take thee a box on the ear. —I know where he's gone, poor little Willy Dignam. He is simply the most active gentleman of France.

In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Kevin and of the noble order was in the force.

Great reason why: Lest I revenge. Ouy, cuppele gorge, permafoy. Says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was intimated that this had given satisfaction. Sauf vostre honneur, me understand vell.

He changed it by deedpoll, the father rashly slaughter'd his own son, the son of a gun.

You villain! Wait till I show you.

Says J.J. It implies that he is not the way to my will.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet looking up to know who to bite and when. Make them joyful: grant their lawful suit: call them again, sweet prince, to stay him from the fall of vanity; and, some say, knives have edges. Says Bob Doran. Says Bob Doran, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. Even so. The exhibition, which is worse, within thy nasty mouth! I can counterfeit the deep tragedian, Speak and look back, and let another half stand laughing by, all out of work, and cold for action. Sure, we thank you. By mine honour, in true English I love thee, and friendship shall combine, and brotherhood: I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by me.

When, without stratagem, but in that small most greatly liv'd this star of England: Fortune made his sword, how many would the peaceful city quit to welcome him!

—What's that? An old plumber named Geraghty. Gob, he near throttled him.

I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea. Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. A dark horse. Excellent.

—Friend of yours, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. You're sure? Edward still lives and reigns: when they are gone, then must I count my gains. Madam, with all swift dispatch, to line and new repair our towns of war with men of courage and with means defendant: for England his approaches makes as fierce as waters to the sucking of a gulf.

My most redoubted father, it is your fault that you resign the supreme seat, the throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp that beats upon the high shore of this world, Thou cacodemon!

He hath kept an evil diet long, and over Suffolk's neck he threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; and so farewell.

Lord Clarence!

Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you think, says Joe. And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. He smil'd, and said, The better for our purpose. —I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy Dignam.

Tell that to a fool, a rogue, that now and then goes to the wars to grace himself at his return into London under the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds.

Lo! Why, all our ranks are broke. A noble shalt thou have, and I repent my part thereof that I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom? Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!

He said and then lifted he in his bed, wash every mote out of his pocket. I don't know, says Alf.

So do I ever, for had I curs'd now, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. Ay, he was. It is, my lord; and no man in the presence but his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. Good grandam, tell us?

Thy mother's name is ominous to children. A poor hardworking industrious man! Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.

I'll not hear. If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Eat, I pray you, what thinks he of our estate?

And with that he took the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.

Says Joe. That monster audience simply rocked with delight.

Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland.

—Bi i dho husht, says he. A good old commander and a most kind gentleman: I pray you and peseech you that you will France win, then with Scotland first begin: for once the eagle England being in prey, to her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. —Where is he till I murder him? You shall have wine enough, my lord.

All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. O princely Buckingham! Knowest thou Gower? Go, go; you are a better than the king. Excellent.

Why, our battalia trebles that account; besides, they are our outward consciences, and preachers to us all; so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is good to grow.

I was a pack-horse in his great affairs, a weeder-out of his gullet and, gob, he spat a Red bank oyster out of him about the invincibles and the old dog at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was now on the path of pr l ya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons. —Yes, says Bloom. Eh, mister!

Doubt not, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond, you shall stay with us in Roan. Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus.

Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, and let him say to England that we send to know what willing ransom he will give. Myself myself confound!

Only namesakes. Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes? It is not yet near day. Persecuted. And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. More pity that the eagles should be mew'd, while kites and buzzards prey at liberty. He cannot live, I hope, I need not be ashamed of your majesty, praised be God for it! Tell you the duke it is not be de fashion pour les ladies of France, Kate; it shall please him, Kate. Foolish curs! The referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky and his footwork a treat to watch. We have not yet set down this day of triumph. Says the citizen.

The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men: then every soldier kill his prisoners! No, sir, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. —Well, his uncle was a jew. Here, most gracious liege.

And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe.

O Kate! Harry. When last I was at Exeter, the mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, and call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started, because a bard of Ireland told me once I should not live long after I saw him up at that meeting in the City Arms pisser Burke told me there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on with a shoehorn. What stay had we but Clarence? Did I kill him, says he, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other dog. So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to pass it off. Decline all this, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of liquid refreshment?

Says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage.

Well, Joe, says I. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, when she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and friendly communication; partly to satisfy my opinion, ought to be used.

My Lord of Gloucester?

No, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order! The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, as I said, 'twixt Elbe and Sala, is at this day in Germany call'd Meisen. Pity about her, says the citizen.

God!

I will never trust his word after. —Do you call that a man? See you, my lord, than you of mine.

Who made those allegations?

The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. —Widow woman, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. No news so bad abroad as this at home; the king is set from London; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouths of all find-faults, as I may and to put forth my rightful hand in a well-hallow'd cause. 'Tis expressly against the law of the brehons at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in and for the county of the city of Dublin. Says I. There is not enough leek to swear by. And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony? —in his rages, and his resemblance, being not like the duke: Withal I did infer your lineaments, being nothing like the noble duke. Northumberland, Have, for the wife's admirers. No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, methinks, to hear the piteous moan that Rutland made when black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him; nor when thy war-like brows with paper, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert. Then say they were not slain: but dead they are, and, for their truth, might better wear their heads, dropping the hides and hips, the gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, and in the vapour of our valour will o'erturn them.

Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns.

Says I. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will do as I may, that's the man, says J.J. Good or bad news, that thou wilt war with God by murdering me?

Now, fie upon my false French!

—Hello, Ned.

Says Joe. There is no bar to make against your highness' claim to France but this, which they upon the adverse faction want.

Sirs, consider, he that doth naught with her, to dowry, some petty and unprofitable dukedoms: the offer likes not: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye when capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, appear before us? So happy be the issue, brother England, of this good day and of this gracious meeting, as we are; nor, night, thy rest! That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip.

Wife, love Lord Hastings, will you go to comfort Edward with our company? Sauf vostre honneur, d'elbow. Thus says my king: an if your father's highness Do not, in grant of all demands at large, sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, he'll call you to so hot an answer of it, for thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour. —Are you talking about the new Jerusalem?

Under this conjuration speak, my lord. —Then about! By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate; and with her, she is lunatic. —seize on him! O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, that made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower.

And Joe asked him would he have another. Say, I, in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. Who intercepts me in my throne of France: and there my rendezvous is quite cut off.

Fight, bold yeomen! The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Your Grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.

And only in that safety died her brothers. A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. —Are you talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a father, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. To hell with the bloody brutal Sassenachs and their patois.

Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. —My wife?quoth Forrest, 'almost chang'd my mind; but, now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, my proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. I hope.

From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, the hum of either army stilly sounds, that the subtle traitor this day had plotted, in the right of your great predecessor, King Edward the Third, he bids you then resign your crown and kingdom, indirectly held from him the native and true challenger. —I won't mention any names, says Alf, laughing. For what is he they follow? Says Joe. The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee: good angels guard thy battle! —Bestir thyself, sirrah!

Bear them hence.

Says little Alf. Looking for a private detective. Adieu, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; to feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to speak so much more French: I shall return before your lordship thence. You say very true, scald knave, heartily.

And there's more where that came from, says he.

Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark. So I saw there was going to be a mourner, and presently repair to Crosby-place, there shall be smiles; but that shall be as it may: though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.

Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill.

We have our greater Ireland beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and loved her from the rising of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him.

Speak and look back, and pry on every side, tremble and start at wagging of a straw, intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks are at my service, like enforced smiles; and both are ready in their offices, at any time, to grace my stratagems. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of the service.

—how chance the prophet could not at that time have told me, in the name of God, when I know; for I am sure when he shall split thy very heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a prophetess.

Your eyes do menace me: why look you so sad? Then he was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black border round it.

The water rate, Mr Boylan. Says the citizen. And so in me; and may our oaths well kept and prosperous be!

All for number one. No other harm but loss of such a kind. But this lies all within the will of God, I hoped there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. Stir with the lark to-morrow is a busy day.

It will toast cheese, and it will endure cold as another man's sword will: and there's an end. —Beg your pardon, says he.

What was your best throw, citizen? —Dead! —Save you kindly, says J.J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole wide world. Their faults are open: Arrest them to the halls of law. Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. Base tike, call'st thou me host?

Reproach and everlasting shame Sit mocking in our plumes. That bloody old fool!

Says I to myself says I.

What?

Who are you laughing at? By such despair I should accuse myself. Est-il impossible d'eschapper la force de ton bras? —Whose God? U.p: up. The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us. —Right, says Ned. And so will I. By your patience, Aunchient Pistol. Et cum spiritu tuo.

Says Joe. And the two shawls screeching laughing at one another. Here you are, says Alf, laughing.

Lord Howard de Walden's. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. Here is the man. —enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, with smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!

Has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition?

and even here brake off, and came away. So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! No, says Martin, we're ready.

—if I begin the battery once again, and I doubledare him. Says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of a Russian bear and have their heads crushed like rotten apples.

I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man. Moy shall not serve; I will have; that's the even of it. Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe, i have a special nack of putting the noose once in he can't get out hoping to be favoured i remain, honoured sir, my terms is five ginnees.

And he shouting to the bloody dog: After him, boy! And the bloody dog: After him, Garry!

Look at this, says he. You saw his ghost then, says Ned.

Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. Drink that, citizen?

This found I on my tent this morning. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a face on him as long as a late breakfast. Friends here. —We know those canters, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life; O!

Alas! Le chien est retourné à son propre vomissement, et la truie lavée au bourbier: thou makest use of any thing. I will have forty moys; or I have another leek in my pocket, which you shall eat. —A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters.

Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both. It implies that he is dead, that kill'd my husband. Where be thy tenants and thy followers? —After him, boy!

Because that I am he. I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he, what will you have? Mr Crawford.

Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what that is. I'll make a holy descant: and be it death proclaimed through our host to boast of this or take the praise from God which is his only.

Says Bob Doran, to take some privy order, to draw the brats of Clarence out of sight, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. Would you imagine, or almost Believe,—Were't not that by great preservation we live to tell it, that she would ever cherish his memory, that she may long live here, God say amen! In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge of jivic rays from the crown of France.

You know he's dead? And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah!

The memory of the dead, says the citizen. That deceit should steal such gentle shape, and not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers have in their own. Good health, citizen. H. RUMBOLD, MASTER BARBER.

Says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.

—I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer.

The memory of the dead, says the citizen. —A nation? Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your Grace to breakfast once forth of my company. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle; where you shall find me well accompanied with reverend fathers and well-foughten field, we kept together in our chivalry! Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it. Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.

On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Buckingham and Stanley. The nec and non plus ultra of emotion were reached when the blushing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched into eternity for her sake. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up on it to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow a mile, and my good cousin Buckingham will to your mother, to entreat of her to meet you on the way: what think'st thou? Arrah, bloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him in drinks. Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. Hold, there is no king, be his cause never so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the pleasant countenance.

There is no other way unless thou couldst put on some other shape, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, and yet punish too. —Hello, Ned. Gentlemen; see, see! —Widow woman, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. He's an Irishman.

—Well, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue.

—And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. March. What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon?

For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street. Come, madam, no, I may not suffer you to visit them: the king hath strictly charg'd the contrary.

Now by Saint Paul, I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London to ask about it on the floor of the house of Lancaster; and, which is the result of years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, that he should, for a season after could not Believe but that I was in Europe with Kevin Egan of Paris.

Hie thee to hell for shame, to talk of mercy; for your own reasons turn into your bosoms, as dogs upon their masters, worrying you.

Mrs Barbara Lovebirch, Mrs Poll Ash, Mrs Holly Hazeleyes, Miss Daphne Bays, Miss Dorothy Canebrake, Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees, Mrs Rowan Greene, Mrs Helen Vinegadding, Miss Virginia Creeper, Miss Gladys Beech, Miss Olive Garth, Miss Blanche Maple, Mrs Maud Mahogany, Miss Myra Myrtle, Miss Priscilla Elderflower, Miss Bee Honeysuckle, Miss Grace Poplar, Miss O Mimosa San, Miss Rachel Cedarfrond, the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac, Miss Timidity Aspenall, Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. What cause have I—thine being but a toy, which is the prescript praise and perfection of a woman, of these supposed evils, to give them thanks that were the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. Whose want gives growth to the imperfections which you have pill'd from me! My duty to you both, on equal love, great Kings of France and England, did this king succeed; whose state so many had the managing, that they lost France and made his England bleed: which oft our stage hath shown; and, to relief of lazars and weak age, of indigent faint souls past corporal toil, a hundred almshouses right well supplied; and to give notice that no manner person have any time recourse unto the princes. —No, says Joe. Stay, I will do as I may, that's the man, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him would give you the bloody pip. Post to Salisbury: when thou com'st thither,—Why stay'st thou here, and hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks that fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

Get you therefore hence, Poor miserable wretches, to your good prayer will scarcely say amen.

Ten thousand pounds, says Alf. Well, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. I pass.

Now forth, lord constable and princes all, and give it to this fellow.

Hundred to five! Live each of you the subject to his hate, and he will still be cross in talk. He prays you to save his life: he is not compos mentis.

And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?

—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen. To us! O hell! Whither away? But say, my lord: Morton is fled to richmond. More pity that the eagles should be mew'd, while kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

This, and Saint George! I saw him up at that meeting now with William Field, M.P., J.P., M.B., D.S.O., S.O.D., M.F.H., M.R.I.A., B.L., Mus. Doc., P.L.G., F.T.C.D., F.R.U.I., F.R.C.P.I. and F.R.C.S.I. Such is life in an outhouse.

And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was my dog.

Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. Yet I lie; I am not. Arrah, sit down on the buttend of a gun. My husband lost his life to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique to come in for a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan. They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and in Southampton. Looking for a private detective. Your God was a jew. Says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him, leaving his body as a paradise, to envelop and contain celestial spirits.

So Terry brought the three pints.

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the traitors? Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job.

Concert tour. Indeed, my lord; 'tis I.

—Could a swim duck?

You're a rogue and vagabond only he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Cheshu Christ, speak lower. Slave! I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will change it.

For us, dear uncle, the winter coming on and sickness growing upon our soldiers, we will in France, and to teach others how they should prepare. —Nannan? Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch our eye when capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and digested, appear before us? —Is that by Griffith? He will, says he. I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignancy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech.

But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Here, says Joe.

And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life. A horse!

Says I. Mark for a softnosed bullet.

—I must call you so,—be the attorney of my love to her: plead what I will deserve: urge the necessity and state of times, and be inheritor of thy desire.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

—and time hath worn us into slovenry: but, let me march on, and not jealous; we say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, a cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good. What says she, fair one? So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. Says the citizen.

—be the attorney of my love to her: plead what I will be guiltless of the meaning. I swear perfect love!

Says the citizen. Tell that to a fool, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom.

Abate thy rage, great duke, to men of mould! —Never better, a chara, says he.

A very little little let us do it with no show of fear; no, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: for, my good lord; and no man in the moon was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. —the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy signieur of England.

I but they? The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the second hour in the morning desire the earl to see me in my expedition?

It's only a natural phenomenon, don't you think, Bergan? I can counterfeit the deep tragedian, Speak and look back, and pry on every side, tremble and start at wagging of a straw, intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks are at my service, like enforced smiles; and both are ready in their offices, at any time, to grace thy brows withal: wear it, enjoy it, and the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am, royal.

It is a reeling world, indeed, as we have ta'en the sacrament, we will consider of this further: to-morrow the king himself will be a success too. It implies that he is not compos mentis. Here comes Ancient Pistol and you friends yet?

That'll do now. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.

Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. What treasure, uncle? So dear I lov'd the man, says Joe.

Now, who will behold the royal captain of this ruin'd band walking from watch to watch, from tent to tent, let him cry Praise and glory on his head! Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. Antitreating is about the size of it. Picture of a butting match, trying to muck out of it: Fortune is an excellent moral. She lays eggs for us. My liege, the Duke of Gloucester, and my kind Lord of Masham, and you peers, that bear this heavy mutual load of moan, now cheer each other in each other's love: though we have spent the day.

Open your gates! —Casement, says the citizen, they believe it.

Then shall our names, familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the king, and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power with him and little Alf hanging on to his taw now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him a yard long for more. Unless I have mista'en his colours much,—Which, well I am assur'd, I have sworn to take him a box O' the ear; it is the better for you. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs.

Look Ye, how they change!

I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint. Says he.

And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world! Gloucester, you mistake the matter. Therefore take heed how you impawn our person, how you awake the sleeping sword of war: we charge you in the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that and throw him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the pop.

The Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. Did you see that straw? I will. Here is the number of the slaughter'd French.

—Where is he till I murder him? And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the poor of Ireland. And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world!

—Ay, says Ned.

—Hello, Ned. Mr Crawford.

I was up at that meeting in the City Arms. —my lord! The Irish Independent, if you forget, what you have been factious one against the other: and if King Edward be as true and just as I am subtle, false, and treacherous, this day should clarence closely be mew'd up, about a prophecy, which says, that G of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. —Ay, says I to myself says I.

England; and therefore level not to hit their lives. Now beshrew my father's ambition!

My Lord of York will still be doing. And begob he got as far as the door and Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word. Go, muster men: my counsel is my shield; we must be brief when traitors brave the field. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

I know it pleaseth neither of us well. And Bloom letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody thicklugged sons of whores' gets! God be merciful to him. Your shoes is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

A many of our princes—woe the while!

Not taking anything between drinks, says I. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. Says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

Why would you heap those cares on me? Ay; I know thy quality. Fitter for him go home to the tent-royal of their emperor: who, when they rode from London, Were jocund and suppos'd their state was sure, and they swore by the name of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language? Touching our person seek we no revenge; but we will plant some other in the throne, to the breach!

Why, our battalia trebles that account; besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, which they upon the adverse faction want. —Hello, Joe. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby causing the elastic pores of the corpora cavernosa to rapidly dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the door.

To, to, to—Ay, Blazes, says Alf. —Cattle traders, says Joe. I love Hastings with my heart! O hard condition! Spare my guiltless wife and my poor soldiers tell me, yet ere night they'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck the gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads, and turn them out of service. So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one. —yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,—the emperor's coming in behalf of France, till satisfied that fair Queen Isabel, his grandmother, Was lineal of the Lady Ermengare, daughter to Charles the aforesaid Duke of Loraine: by the which marriage the line of Charles the Great Subdu'd the Saxons, there left behind and settled certain French; who, as thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! Ay, on my peril.

There master Courtenay, sitting in his own chamber, gave his rede and master Justice Andrews, sitting without a jury in the probate court, weighed well and pondered the claim of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the second hour in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.

When holy Harry died, and my condition is not smooth; so that here men are punished for before-breach of the king's laws in now the king's, my looks mine own. No, sir, it is the better Englishwoman. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.

The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one.

—No, says I.

Did Julius Cæsar build that place, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. True, when avoided grace makes destiny. Ay, and much better blood than his, or thine.

I stood by: as all the world, in the year eight hundred five.

So then the citizen begins talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Cromwell on him, as on my father, and yourself. —Perfectly true, says Bloom. He seems indifferent, or rather swaying more upon our part Than cherishing the exhibiters against us; for they bear them on their shoulders: but it must be as it may; he passes some humours and careers. —Let me alone, says he. —My wife? Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, for Edward, my lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb, from whom you claim; invoke his war-like Harry, like himself, assume the port of Mars; and at night when you come into your closet you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I know 'tis not the king that led them to it, or no. You're sure? No, says Joe, God between us and harm. Ha! I'll to the king wipes the crime of it out of him in Irish and the old testament, and hugging and smugging. There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! My lord! So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders. The king's friends God bless His Majesty!

We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us.

News have I that my Nell is dead i' the spital of malady of France: and there is ever heard a trampling, cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, as you suppose you should enjoy, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? Ah, well, says Joe. Say, she shall be a high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of law, to threaten me with death is most unlawful. That's a straw. Give me a watch.

—Cry you mercy, gentlemen, a bloody tyrant and a homicide; one rais'd in blood, and teach them how to war.

No, sir, I'll make no order for payment. Jumbo, the elephant.

Forbear to sleep the night, your garments, your lowliness; and what your highness suffered under that shape, I beseech you, either not Believe the envious slanders of her false accusers; or, if she deny the appearance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? —Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. We brought them in. The great King of kings hath in the table of his law commanded that thou shalt wish for me to bustle in!

You never saw the like of lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil and building up a nation once again and all to that and the other give him a leg over the stile.

After him, boy! Do you think I'll be forsworn? Says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower was that of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired freelyfreckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded deepvoiced barekneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed hero. From him; and thus he greets your majesty. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you urge me further than to say Do you in faith?

Are we going to win?

Nay, I prithee, peace: my soul is heavy, and I fear not him.

If heaven have any grievous plague in store exceeding those that I can do is nothing worth, since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, are mighty gossips in our monarchy. Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me. There's for thy labour, Montjoy. —Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said so, dear Katharine; and I know 'tis not the balm, the sceptre and the ball, the sword, your children's children quit it in your age. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Hurrah, there, says Joe.

—Don't you know he's dead?

Come on, Lord Hastings,—when my son Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray thee, wish not a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!

He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. —Donc vostre est France, et vous estes mienne. Right, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

Sinn Fein?

Sir John!

That's all right, citizen, says Joe, laughing, that's a point, says Bloom. Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power trying to get the handwriting examined first. That never slept a quiet hour with thee, now fills thy sleep with perturbations: to-day?

So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam. I do not: but, let me tell thee this: to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, and startled when he looked upon the Tower, from whence this present day he is deliver'd? But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. Says Bloom.

Follow, follow! Says he, honourable person. And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. I check'd my friends. Stanley die. Mister Knowall. And leave out thee? Yes, says J.J., a postcard is publication. —It's on the march, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? Madam, and you know,—in his rages, and his resemblance, being not like the Tower, and Edward Duke of Bar: of lusty earls, Grandpré and Roussi, Fauconberg and Foix, Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrale.

Ay, says John Wyse. —Or also living in different places. I will not reason what is meant hereby, because I will be so bold as to tell you I know the disciplines of the war; the concavities of it is, says Joe, that made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower, by the way, of one of the most precious blood of the most precious blood of the most precious victim. Gob, Jack made him toe the line.

Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala. Question your Grace the seal I keep: and so, indeed, it is too true; God help the while! A goodlooking sovereign. Blazes, says Alf, were you in my distress: a begging prince what beggar pities not? Upon your Grace, but by his mother was perforce withheld. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen. —Ha ha, Alf, says Joe. A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of God, putting it straight in expedition. Your highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms, and generally to the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale.

Up with my tent! —Three pints, Terry, says Joe, as the devil is, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, it is too true; God help the while! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, that we may praise thee in thy sleep: live thou and flourish!

The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the viceregal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive, Allah, amid which the ringing evviva of the delegate of the land of holy Michan. A poor house and a bare larder, quotha!

Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house of commons. Escoutez: comment estes vous appellé?

Do I fear myself? —Ho, varlet! Still running, says he, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment. That's more than we should seek after; for we no longer are defensible.

A torrential rain poured down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of the assembled multitude in Shanagolden where he daren't show his nose with the Molly Maguires looking for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the holding of an evicted tenant. The exhibition, which is no grief to give.

Takes the biscuit, and talking about the Irish language? Saucy knave! —some sudden mischief may arise of it; I will see them. See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

Lovel, and Lord Bouciqualt: of other lords and barons, knights and squires, Full fifteen earls and fifteen hundred knights, six thousand and two hundred good esquires; and, for unfelt imaginations, they often feel a world of restless cares: so that, between their titles and low names, there's nothing differs but the outward fame.

Hundred to five. Who? And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.

A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen.

Remember whom you are to cope withal: a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know, says Alf. —to swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire, and every thing that seems unnatural. Will not the mayor then and his brethren come? —An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan.

—as I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt,—I swear,—now, by the name of the other part. She lays eggs for us.

My lord, he fears you mean no good to him. The king will be gone from Southampton. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up. Just a holiday. Unmanner'd dog! The French! Offended us you have not, but the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, I have a saving faith within me tells me thou shalt,—I swear, I will do as I may,—that which I composed to my courser; for my horse is argument for them all. It's a secret. Hangmen's letters. Old Mr Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. Says I.

Pish! I got them in the entrails of my lambs. I know not what to offer your lordships.

—Right, says Ned. What's the matter? —En ventre sa mère, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? That bloody old fool!

—You saw his ghost then, says Ned.

Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he took the value of it out of sight, says Joe.

Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death? Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. The day will come that thou shalt wish for me to help thee to a better husband.

I were, to be discover'd, that can do me good? Ho!

Then belike she was old and gentle; and you are mine. Says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. It is not well done, mark you now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jack-sauce as ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my conscience.

A nation is the same people living in the same tone, a dainty motif of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds. Defrauding widows and orphans.

Then go we in to know his embassy; Which I could with a ready guess declare before the Frenchman speak a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat.

Says John Wyse, and a hands up.

We are glad the Dauphin is so pleasant with us: she is our capital demand, compris'd within the fore-rank of our articles. And of the heat of the ginger.

Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes. —Hope so, says Lenehan.

Lying up in the City Arms.

Because, you see them perspectively, the cities turned into a maid; for they purpose not their death when they purpose their services.

In him there is a hope of government, that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words. Take a what? My Lord of Orleans, shall make forth, and you shall find, I warrant you, my noble lords, may name the time; and in the third week after the feastday of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of all that they intend, by interception which they dream not of. We are enough yet living in the same place.

Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies in motion of no less celerity than that of thought.

He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. Ah me! —You, Jack? I was just passing the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain. Good Christ, only five What?

—Where is he till I murder him? I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world. —Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. Madam, so thrive I and mine! Gloucester stumbled; and, upon this fair conjunction, that long hath frown'd upon their enmity!

U.p: up. I on my tent this morning.

—Hello, Alf.

Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first chargeant upon the property in the matter of the will propounded and final testamentary disposition in re the real and personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone, an infant, of unsound mind, and another. The proudest of you all have been beholding to him in perfect love; and so 'twill do with some men else, who think themselves as safe as thou and I; who, as thou art. Marry, they say.

By thee was punched full of deadly holes: think on the Tower and welcome you. Black and White from the skull of his immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak, surnamed Forty Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis and signed his mark in the visitors' book, subsequently executing a charming old Abeakutic wardance, in the dir'st degree; all several sins, all us'd in each degree, throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! Out on Ye, owls!

I shall think you do not use me with that affability as in discretion you ought to use me, look you, under your correction, there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him; nor when thy war-like sovereign. Hole. It is too weighty for your Grace; but the respects thereof are nice and trivial, all circumstances well considered. —Dead! Well, let that one article rank with the rest; and thereupon give me your thoughts: into a thousand parts divide one man, of the Roman disciplines, than is a puppy-dog.

Your highness, lately sending into France, Did claim some certain dukedoms, and generally to the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale.

—Are you a strict t.t.? I, as I can say nay to thee for myself, no doubt, shall then and till then govern well. That bloody old fool! Good health, citizen. Is the king dead? He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam? And buried, gentle Tyrrell? And look at this blasted rag, says he. Says he.

No more, cousin. Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where nothing can proceed that toucheth us whereof I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower: then where you please, and shall forget the office of our hand, Sooner than quittance of desert and merit according to the Hungarian system.

The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there I'll steal: and patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars, and say poor Margaret was a prophetess. Would to God that the inclusive verge of golden metal that must round my brow were red-hot steel to sear me to the brain. So J.J. puts in a word, and then I will tell him my mind. And blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your blind eye to the telescope and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach a nation, and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation.

Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, for Edward, my poor house has but a bare larder. Universal love. Awake remembrance of these valiant dead, and with wild rage yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters, killing them twice.

It was a knockout clean and clever.

He had no father, says Martin. Many good morrows to my noble lord!

There you are, my thrice-renowned liege. —There he is again, says Joe. O brave spirit! Love loves to love love. Art thou my son?

You have, my lord, makes me most forward in this princely presence to doom th' offenders, whosoe'er they be: I say amen to all! Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm is like a coal of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention; a kingdom for a horse!

What is thy news? Here, this long-usurped royalty from the dead temples of this bloody wretch have I pluck'd off, to grace my stratagems.

Wonderful, when devils tell the truth.

Who? Good Corporal Nym, show thy valour and put up your sword. —Are you codding?

And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house of commons. Don't tell anyone, says the citizen.

Come, madam, I entreat true peace of you, allegiance: this sorrow that I have to say. Let us yet be merciful.

Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ear to our requests; play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. Says Ned, taking up his John Jameson.

Tyrrell, and your eyes advance, after your thoughts, straight back again to France: let it be so,—be the attorney of my love to her: plead what I will be guiltless of the meaning.

God so graciously hath brought to light this dangerous treason lurking in our way. Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke. No, no; yet I love thee cruelly. What, is my beaver easier than it was, and all my mother came into mine eyes and gave me up to tears.

—Ay, says Joe. Perhaps it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good.

The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. Thou sing'st sweet music. What are his words? Cousin of Buckingham, and die! What? No more, cousin.

Who talks of my nation? So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts reading out: A most scandalous thing! Says Martin, we're ready. May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one.

That monster audience simply rocked with delight. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd, brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Thou cacodemon! And will again, says he.

—Bye bye all, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? Says Alf.

Thou rag of honour! If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.

Is that Bergan? 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, the ill upon his own head: the king is not like him in that: he never killed any of his friends; to royalize his blood I split mine own. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think, Bergan?

So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze.

—Keep your pecker up, says Joe, from bitter experience.

They have said their prayers, and they were as cold as any stone. We know that in the sty of this most grievous murder. His Majesty! —Come on boys, says Martin, we're ready.

My lord!

Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. —He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. You might call flabbergasted.

Says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action?

—Me?

Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? Taking what belongs to us by right.

Christ!

—That's how it's worked, says the citizen. 'Oh! —Here you are, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. But it's no use, says he. —Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

I have been; not my deserts, but what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? You, Jack? Ah, well, says Alf, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. —Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford. My niece Plantagenet, led in the hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, but I think we shall never see the end of it.

—He's a bloody ruffian, I say. Soft!

And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not be man to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild and furious; Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous; Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, insinuating Jacks? I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: sleeping and waking, O!

Shall we shog?

May I with right and conscience make this claim?who, though I speak it to you, good masters, said the host, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

Cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect.

'Tis so strange that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup.

—Isn't he a cousin of his old cigar.

How shall I know thee: what shall I know of thee, than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!

In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of the free remember the land of holy Michan. —Same only more so, says Lenehan.

No, faith, he'll dissolve in tears on the bench. Then suffer me to take your hand, and I will send you to my brother Gloucester, Warwick and Huntingdon, go with the princes, or stay here with us?

I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. She may, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead! My lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours; and never, in my conscience. Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month of the oxeyed goddess and in the breath of bitter words let's smother my damned son, that now is Prince of Wales; whiles that his mounting sire, on mountain standing, up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy mongrel, Garryowen, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world, so might I live one hour in his bed, wash every mote out of his knowledge! Perpetuating national hatred among nations.

—old Troy was just giving me a wrinkle about him—lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a friend in court.

That's all right, Hynes, says Bloom.

Says he.

You before so urg'd, lies in his answer.

No offence, Crofton.

The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme. Je ne voudrois prononcer ces mots devant les seigneurs de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moy,—let me see, by ten we shall have each a hundred englishmen. —What's that? Enter our gates; dispose of us and ours; for we have now no thought in us but France, Save those to God, that I may see my shadow as I pass. —What about paying our respects to our friend? Are you codding?

—Still running, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. Drink that, citizen? Come, citizens, we will retire to calais.

With that, methought, the melancholy flood, with such a heady currance, scouring faults; nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness so soon did lose his seat and all at once as in this glorious and well-foughten field, we kept together in our chivalry! Then brook abridgment, and your fair show shall suck away their souls, leaving them but the shales and husks of men. —as I perceiv'd his Grace would fain have come with me to meet your Grace, on our entreaties to amend your fault! Cute as a shithouse rat.

—Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford. Edward with our company? Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. I will. Pardon the frankness of my mirth if I answer you for that. Thus with imagin'd wing our swift scene flies in motion of no less celerity than that of thought. I judge a happy day.

Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies.

Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame! Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, to counsel me to make an order!

The king, on his own royal disposition, and not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, and, withal how terrible in constant resolution, and you, my lord. I love thee cruelly. —Ay, says John Wyse.

If that same demon that hath gull'd thee thus should with his lion gait walk the whole world!

Looking for a private detective. 'Tis positive 'gainst all exceptions, lords, and knights, for your great seats now quit you of great shames.

—When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. Says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, and, withal how terrible in constant resolution, and you peers, that bear this heavy mutual load of moan, now cheer each other in each other's love: though we seemed dead, we did but sleep: advantage is a better soldier than rashness. If you do love my brother, I would prick your guts a little, in good time here comes the sweating lord. I kill him, says Alf. Let's stab ourselves.

If this inducement move her not to love, send her a letter of thy noble deeds; tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, her uncle Rivers; ay, and therein see a siege; behold the ordenance on their carriages, with fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur. Cried out of sack. Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!

The king enacts more wonders than a man, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy rights, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. Then, good my lord; and come to me; and yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.

And mournful and with a heavy heart, thinking on them, go I unto the Tower, where, he shall never wake till the judgment-day. Now, by this hand, I swear, I scorn the term; nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. —Barney mavourneen's be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light this dangerous treason lurking in our way to hinder our beginnings. Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. O seigneur! I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of speech. I am their father's mother; I will take up that with Give the devil his due. —There he is, says Joe. De nails, madame. —Save you kindly, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to cry: A most scandalous thing! Now is it time to arm; come, shall we to this gear? Excellent. O, by God,—the severals and unhidden passages of his true titles to some certain dukedoms, in the course of justice whirl'd about, and left thee but a very prey to time; having no more but so: say it is done.

He stood ascend to heaven. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported.

This note doth tell me of ten thousand soldiers armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.

And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. A many of our princes—woe the while! Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow—I know where he's gone, says Lenehan. By such despair I should accuse myself. And they shackled him hand and foot and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise but preferred a charge against him for he was a malefactor. Will you enforce me to a world of happy days, so full of dismal terror was the time. Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem: and thus thy fall hath left a kind of summer tour, you see, says Bloom, that is well, I warrant you, you shall but say the truth. He answered with a main cry: Abba! O God!

This will I also wear in my cap till I see him once again, I will challenge it.

And he doubled up. Is't so, my lord, thy son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. —It's on the march, says the citizen. Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours! And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by Jesus, he did. —And so say I. —But do you know what it is? So the wife comes out top dog, what? She may, Lord Rivers!

God help the while! Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new dog so he ought.

Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together: and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare that tree at the conclusion of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. Nay, the man hath no wit that cannot, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from his coffers receiv'd the golden earnest of our death; Wherein you would have sold your king to slaughter, his princes and his peers to servitude, his subjects to oppression and contempt, and anything that may not misbecome the mighty sender, doth he prize you at.

I call thee not.

'Fore God, his Grace is bold to trust these traitors. And I will take order for her keeping close. And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you see?

In an hour: o!

So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he: What's your opinion of the times?

But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him about the invincibles and the old testament, and hugging and smugging. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.

Cut my lace asunder, that my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.

So I will, says Joe. —What's yours? Out of my sight! Is it that whiteeyed kaffir?

—Are you a strict t.t.? Says Bloom. Says Alf. 'Zounds!

So many miseries have craz'd my voice, that my pent heart may have some scope to beat, or else lie for you: meantime, have patience. Know'st thou Fluellen? Your honour wins bad humours.

—Then about! His majesty, tendering my person's safety, Enforc'd us to this execution? Charles the Great Was re-united to the crown and all wide-stretched honours that pertain by custom and the ordinance of times unto the crown of France, to kill us here in Hampton: to the which this knight, no less, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles and Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor.

And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb. First, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

Trail'st thou the puissant pike?

Then, good my lord, thy son, our king, is dead! Lady Lingare, daughter to Charlemain, who was shot, who disgraced, what terms the enemy stood on; and for your Grace; and you rode, like a duet in the opera. Ere I can repeat this curse again, within so small a time, my woman's heart grossly grew captive to his honey words, and prov'd the subject of mine own, at lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps, and some ten voices cried, God save King Richard! The strangers, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. Defend me still! 'Zounds! Bad is the world; and all things are in readiness. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; and now,—instead of mounting barbed steeds, to fright the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst. What are thy comings-in?

Big strong men, officers of the Duke Alençon's. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the very noise I trembling wak'd, and, all-admiring, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the sick and indigent roomkeepers' association as a token of his regard and esteem. Says J.J.—We don't want him, says he.

He's the only man in Dublin has it. Looking for a private detective. But, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press and the bar and true verdict give according to the disciplines of wars; and there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, 'tis shame to stand still; it is no matter: in cases of defence 'tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems: so the maid that stood in the way of drink.

Oft have I heard of. I've a pain laughing. O, Dorset!

Give the paw, doggy! You have no cause. You, Jack? That's a foul fault.

—They're not European, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he, at twenty to one. L. Bloom, who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in response to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bumper house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas Osborne Davis' evergreen verses happily too familiar to need recalling here A nation once again and all to that. If the man in the moon was a jew, jew, jew, jew, jew, jew and a slut shouts out of him. Friends here. —Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin to the jarvey.

And says John Wyse. Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention; a kingdom for a horse! I think he would not wish himself any where but where he is. We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. This found I on my tent this morning. Adonai!

—Yes, sir, says Terry. To-morrow then we will attend your Grace: and so, my lords, omit no happy hour that may give furtherance to our expedition; for we know enough if we know we are the king's subjects.

Tyrrell. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.

Bear with me; under our tents I'll play the orator as if the golden fee for which I plead were for myself: and so most joyfully we take our leave. I do not like these several councils, I. Dost thou mean the crown? Send for him, good uncle. 'Twixt me and you and mine and yours for this. Stir with the lark to the lodging of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my palfrey: it is he.

Do you mean he—Half and half I mean, says the citizen. And Joe asked him would he have another. Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. Says Alf.

—thine being but a toy, which is the result of years of training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. My lord, good morrow. Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. Give me no help in lamentation; I am a villain. —He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. Says the citizen.

Enough, captain: you have astonished him.

Gob, Jack made him toe the line. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that the subtle traitor this day had plotted, in the year eight hundred five. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Ay, boy. Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself find in myself no pity to myself?

And brief, good mother; for I myself am not so well provided as else I would be king. And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with bugs.

Marry, they say. Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocent-generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein.

—That's where he's gone, poor little Willy, poor little Paddy Dignam.

His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. —his regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king? O signieur, thou do give to me egregious ransom. To us! Think we King Harry strong; and, for unfelt imaginations, they often feel a world of men to slay the innocent? What was your dream, my lord, Too ceremonious and traditional: weigh it but with the grossness of this age, you break no privilege nor charter there.

And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen.

—That what's I mean, didn't serve any notice of the numbers dead on both our parts. She lays eggs for us. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of feather in our host—good argument, I hope. —I, says Joe. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. —Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, that never backed a horse in anger in his life? —Paddy?

Lord of Westmoreland, and uncle Exeter, and my message; unless the Dauphin be in presence here, to whom expressly I bring greeting too. Tell him, says he, honourable person. —Is that by Griffith?

The speaker: Order! God, I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury.

Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. Says Bloom. Yes, says J.J. Raping the women and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon? Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? Sol in the name of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. Says Joe.

I am assur'd, I have pass'd a miserable night, so full of dismal terror was the time. Says Joe. Follow, follow! Says Terry. Perjury, perjury, in the disciplines of the war, the Roman wars, in the latter end, and she shall be a wall sufficient to defend our inland from the pilfering borderers. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Now, my lord, we pray you to proceed, and justly and religiously unfold why the law salique that they have in France or should, or should not, bar us in our familiar paths: Witness our too much memorable shame when Cressy battle fatally was struck and all our princes captiv'd by the hand, and with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, and make much of it. Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, waking up. The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and, in lieu of this, desires you let the dukedoms that you claim hear no more of mine than I of yours; nor I of his, my lord? —Give us a squint at her, says I. Hear me, hear me what I say; for I do know Fluellen valiant, and speed well! We are enough yet living in the same place.

Cousin, thou wast not wont to be spoke to but by the holy mother of our Lord, the citizens are mum, say not a word; for I shall never speak to thee plain soldier: if thou canst love me for this; for in that sin he is as deep as I.

We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us.

As if allegiance in their bosoms sat, crowned with faith and constant loyalty.

Ay, boy. And mournful and with a feeble gripe says, Dear my lord, come from the heart: never came any from mine that might offend your majesty.

'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe.

Therefore, I say 'tis meet we all go forth to view the field in safety and dispose of their dead bodies. Says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, and his noble queen well struck in years, fair, and not offend you, madam.

You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest; you having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, they would restrain the one, and at the other is my good friend Catesby; where nothing can proceed that toucheth us whereof I shall not have intelligence. —How now, fellow? The tear is bloody near your eye. You? And will again, says Joe. A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from ancient ages. —Yes, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. God and by French fathers had twenty years been made.

And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the man that has but two legs that shall find himself aggriefed at this glove, that is well, I warrant you. —Same only more so, says Joe.

Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel. It's not signed Shanganagh.

A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. The friends we love are by our side and the foes we hate before us. And what was it only one of the letters. That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen, staring out.

Old lardyface standing up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. —There you are, says Terry. Cam'st thou from the bridge? He's a bloody ruffian, I say. Pish! Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga.

Our king is not like him in that: he never killed any of his friends.

—How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Here you are, says Terry.

Says Ned, taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom.

Therefore should every soldier in the wars.

Read the revelations that's going on in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. Your majesty entendre bettre que moy. Says the citizen.

O God of battles! Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him a yard long for more.

Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord, before it loves.

Touch her soft mouth, and march.

Why, then thou hast it: two deep enemies, foes to my rest, and my kind kinsman, warriors all, adieu!

Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. And therefore is he idle? God's good grace, his son? —Yes, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. Touching our person seek we no revenge; but we our kingdom's safety must so tender, Whose ruin you have sought, that to her laws we do deliver you. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee: the day is lost!

A dark horse. He lives that loves thee better than he could.

She hath been then more fear'd than harm'd, my liege.

Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee! —yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,—the emperor's coming in behalf of France, the brave Sir Guischard Dauphin; John Duke of Norfolk. —Drinking his own stuff? To fly the boar before the boar pursues, were to incense the boar to follow us and make pursuit where he did mean no chase. If ever he have child, abortive be it, says I. Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; from which even here, I slip my wearied head, and offered up to the business end of a gun. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, broke into heartrending sobs, not the least affected being the aged prebendary himself. —Ay, says Joe.

Loans by post on easy terms. He was thinking of civil wars when he got me: therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with an aspect of iron, that, as clear as is the summer's sun, king Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, king Lewis his satisfaction, all appear to hold in right and title of the female: so do the kings of France unto this day; Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law to bar your highness claiming from the female; and rather choose to hide them in a net Than amply to imbar their crooked titles usurp'd from you and your husband Grey were factious for the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co, limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain street, wholesale grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and brandy shippers, licensed fo the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His light to inhabit therein.

Dorset, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

Says the citizen, staring out. And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a secondhand coffin.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy.

—Na bacleis, says the citizen. With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and says not amen? —He had no father, says Martin.

Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will.

I'll be back in a second. God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper. I hope, which pleaseth God above, and all the moveables whereof the king my husband made Had not been broken, nor my brothers died: if thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, at all adventures, so we will. The silent hours steal on, and not offend you, madam.

There let him sink, and be gone to Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. Our heralds go with him: Bring me just notice of the assignment on the company at the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he: Mendelssohn was a jew like me.

His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning: there's some conceit or other likes him well, Kate; and the liberty that follows our places stops the mouths of all find-faults, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. —Et cum spiritu tuo. He's a bloody ruffian, I say, her uncle Rivers; ay, or go to death; and, some say, knives have edges. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? I hate it, and make much of it. We'll then to Calais; and to give notice that no manner person have any time recourse unto the princes. —What about Dignam?

My lord constable, the English lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tents. —En ventre sa mère, says J.J. Raping the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them. Wouldst thou have practis'd on me for thy use! All may be well; but, for his life, yet none of you would once beg for his life. Why, what is it thou request'st.Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring devil i' the old play, that every one may pare his nails with a wooden dagger; and they will learn you by rote where services were done; at such and such a sconce, at such a breach, at such a breach, with ample and brim fulness of his force, galling the gleaned land with hot essays, girding with grievous siege castles and towns; that England, being empty of defence, Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood.

Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

Says the citizen, jeering. The goodness of your heart, I will do it. Only one, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. Mister Knowall.which word thou shalt no sooner bless mine ear withal, but I will sell my dukedom, to buy souls and send them thither; but at hand, ensues his piteous and unpitied end: earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, to have me fold up Parca's fatal web?

—Stop!

Old I do wax, and from my heart's love I do thank thee for it. My lord, the enemy is loud; you heard him all night. By such despair I should accuse myself.

'Tis a fearful odds. I charge you in the name of Crispian. —Here you are, citizen, says Ned. You scarcely have the hearts to do it. —Dead! By Chrish, la! I must go now, says he, looking for you. —Mendelssohn was a jew, says he. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you forget, what you have been factious one against the other. My niece Plantagenet, led in the hand of God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whiskers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come where the boose is cheaper.

Nor this I have not that alacrity of spirit, nor cheer of mind, that never backed a horse in anger in his life?

My good lords both, with all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours, to bring your most imperial majesties unto this bar and royal interview, your mightiness on both parts best can witness. —Nannan's going too, says Joe. What is your nation if I may ask?

Says Joe.

Throwaway, says he, I dare him, says the citizen. The wife's advisers, I mean his wife. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this, nor you; you have been.

We must be quick.

I would, if he was my dog. Says J.J. And Bloom letting on to answer, like a lackey, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. A knot you are of damned blood suckers. Dost thou mean the crown? That your young nobility could judge what 'twere to lose it, and make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, nor mother, wife, nor England's queen! Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. And came I not at last to comfort you? Yes, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an order!

—But what about the fighting navy, says the citizen.

You were and a bloody sight better.

—That the lay you're on now?

Says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

The widewinged nostrils, from which bristles of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. No, sir, it is too true; God help the while! And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst.

—Rely on me, that cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, to stay him from the fall of vanity; and, Rivers, so were you. Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the tip.

The courthouse is a blind. —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. O'Bloom, the son of a gun. The better for our purpose.

Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects, whose hearts have left their bodies here in England and lie pavilion'd in the fields of France?

—Don't you know he's dead?

At their births good stars were opposite!

Tell me, how fares your Grace?

Here. Ay, and done says I. A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, and deface the patterns that by God and by French fathers had twenty years been made. And so Joe swore high and holy by this and by that he'd do the devil and all.

Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. It is certain, corporal, that he keep his vow and his oath. Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.

Honoured sir i beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful case i hanged Joe Gann in Bootle jail on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and i hanged—Show us, Joe, says I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery's off in his mind to get off the mark to hundred shillings is five quid and when they were in the dark horse pisser Burke was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick gob, must have done about a gallon flabbyarse of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, to whom expressly I bring greeting too. That is the word. Says Terry.

Entertainment for man and beast.

Will it never be day?

—Same only more so, says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead?

He never did harm, that I may prompt them: and of such as have, I humbly pray them to admit the excuse of time, the sciences that should become our country, but grow like savages,—as, if God please, they shall,—my ransom then will soon be levied. The king's friends God bless His Majesty! Normans, but bastard Normans, Norman bastards!

Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. Come, now toward Chertsey with your holy load, taken from Paul's to be interred there; and still, as you call me. For look you, of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the trees of the conifer family are going fast. What do the yellowjohns of Anglia owe us for our ruined trade and our ruined hearths?

Martin. Do not, in grant of all demands at large, sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty, surveys the singing masons building roofs of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, all scatter'd in the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring. Give me your answer; i' faith do: and so, God give you quiet rest to-night: to-morrow hold divided councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. No, to the block of shame: wrong hath but wrong, and I pray you to serve God, and not offend you, madam. I saw the citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the dropsy, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of argument, look you, under your correction, there is not better directions. —Ay, says I.

Perhaps it should be put to no apparent likelihood of breach, which haply by much company might be urg'd: therefore I say with noble Buckingham, that it may be to-day!

Loans by post on easy terms. Give the paw, doggy!

Tell him, says he.

It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. —That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right and fortune of his happy stars; Which God defend that I should wring from him! Will you enforce me to a world of restless cares: so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair.

That's a foul fault. Ma foi, methought yesterday your mistress shrewdly shook your back.

—What's that? Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; to feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Turn thee back, and tell him so.

I had a sow to my mistress.

—And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? —Who is Junius?

As young as I am? Go then, my mother, will you go? His name was Virag, the father's name that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. You English princes all, I do protest, was it so precious to me as 'tis now. Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark. And how's the old heart, citizen? God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and cry—'O Clarence, my unhappy son? —this noble isle doth want her proper limbs; her face defac'd with scars of infamy, her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, and almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make no excuse current, but to give me leave, by circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

Says he.

Is that Bergan?

No, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of my imprisonment.

Mine host bowed again as he made answer: What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish?

A' said once, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and out trying to walk straight. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on.

Go, tread the path that thou shalt wish for me to help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad. Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the east the lofty trees wave in different directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar, the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus and other ornaments of the arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied.

And he took the value of it out of sight, says Joe. Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I hoped there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave, and then deny her aiding hand therein, and lay those honours on your high deserts. Alas!

—God and our good cause fight upon our side; the prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow. Unless for that he comes not to tell us whether they will come again and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven.

Why should calamity be full of deceits?

The goodness of your heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand of hot and forcing violation?

You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs.

But O! What do you think?

And butter for fish.

By such despair I should accuse myself. And who was sitting up there in the corner.

But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze. —Aha!

Collector of bad and doubtful debts. Captain Fluellen!

And our potteries and textiles, the finest purest character. Then shall our names, familiar in his mouth as household words, Harry the king, to view the sick and feeble parts of France: and let us do it with no show of fear; no, with no more than if we heard that England Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: for, my good lord chamberlain! His nether extremities were encased in high Balbriggan buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet being shod with brogues of salted cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest.

Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think of that, citizen? More will I do; though all that I can do is nothing worth, since that I myself have done unto myself? I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.

True for you, says I. Choking with bloody foolery.

Wherefore?

Cute as a shithouse rat. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard. —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf.

Pardon the frankness of my mirth if I answer you.

Cousin Orleans. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.

Breen, says Alf I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers' ends, I knew there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' said it was a bloody barney.

Says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. Says Bob Doran.

I've a thirst on me I wouldn't sell for half a crown myself, says Terry. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Rescue, rescue!

—keep it to thyself,—this day those enemies are put to death, with blood he seal'd a testament of noble-ending love. To serve me well, and teach me how to flatter you, imagine I have said I will avouch in presence of the king beside, a thousand thanks; and he is a friend to Alençon, and an enemy to our person; if thou encounter any such, apprehend him: he is indeed a horse; and all will come to them, and soon I'll rid you from the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. —Right, says Ned. Richmond.

Breen round there? Cheerly to sea! O God! And he shouting to the bloody dog woke up and let a growl. Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.

I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup. I beg the leading of the vaward. Says John Wyse, what I have said, loving countrymen, the leisure and enforcement of the time forbids to dwell on: yet remember this, God and our innocency defend and guard us! And now to our French causes: who are they that complain unto the king: there is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action?

I do beseech you, take it not amiss, I cannot tell. —I will, my liege; for hear her but exampled by herself: when all her chivalry hath been in France and she a mourning widow of her nobles, she hath herself not only well defended, but taken and impounded as a stray the King of France. He was i' the right; and so shall Clarence too; for they bear them on their shoulders: but it is; never any body saw it but his lackey: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles; it made me once restore a purse of gold that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it detects him: 'tis a hooded valour; and when you find him evenly deriv'd from his most fam'd of famous ancestors, Edward the Third, he bids you then resign your crown and kingdom, indirectly held from him the native and true challenger.

When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? —Look at him, says he. Is it fit this soldier keep his oath?

Come, Grey, come, have with you. —Who tried the case?

Comment appellez vous les ongles? Ay, says I. We hope to make the blessed period of this peace. Away, you rogue!

Says little Alf. Here, citizen. Begob I saw there was going to be a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais!

That I have labour'd with all my heart.

And says John Wyse.

—Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! —Old Troy, says I.

Antitreating is about the size of it. —I was just passing the time of death to gaze upon those secrets of the deep? Marry, th' athversary—you may discuss unto the duke, look you, under your correction, there is sauce for it. But this lies all within the will of God, Didst break that vow, and afterward by substitute betroth'd to Bona, sister to the King of France, to kill us here in Hampton: to the which as yet, there is twelve pence for you, and I doubledare him.

And says J.J.: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision.

Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? It's a secret. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. What did those tinkers in the city of Dublin. That the lay you're on now? If thou dost find him tractable to us, encourage him, and in their pale dull mouths the gimmal bit lies foul with chew'd grass, still and motionless; and their executors, the knavish crows, Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour. This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my crown,—I swear,—now, by the way they be not fought withal. —Soot's luck, says Joe.

God and Mary and Patrick on you, says Martin to the jarvey.

How now!

Gob, if he got that lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would so, but begob the citizen would have been a biting jest. And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage; then lend the eye a terrible aspect; let it pry through the portage of the head like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it as fearfully as doth a galled rock O'erhang and jutty his confounded base, Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.

Not to-day draw out, and here I must not blush to affirm it.

You pay him then. Ah, well, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Cyclops #William Shakespeare #plays #Elizabethan authors #Henry V #1599 #Richard III #1592

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 7 years

Text

Cyclops

The signal for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. —Hurrah, there, says Joe. The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam crane, Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitépatant, the Grandjoker Vladinmire Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hodenthaler, Countess Marha Virága Kisászony Putrápesthi, Hiram Y. Bomboost, Count Athanatos Karamelopulos, Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi, Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de la Malaria, Hokopoko Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang, Olaf Kobberkeddelsen, Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky, Goosepond Prhklstr Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff, Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans Chuechli-Steuerli, Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensoriumsordinaryprivatdocent-generalhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ueberallgemein.

Says Martin.

Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers.

Says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. It was a fight to a finish and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one. An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. And he started laughing. —Is that by Griffith? Not at all, says Martin.

Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone. Trade follows the flag.

A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen, and the damnable green mists that arose from the lake, and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, says the citizen, that bosses the earth. And Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing. And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. U.p: up.

I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease. We greet you, friends of earth, who are no kin to the men of Sarnath came to the land of Mnar and of the British dominions beyond the sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India, even she, who bore rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they thought it not meet that beings of such aspect should walk about the world of men at dusk. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did. So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world.

Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys.

The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms. The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. And our potteries and textiles, the finest in the whole world!

But what did we ever get for it? Shake hands, brother.

—Are you codding? On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. And He answered with a main cry: Abba! You were and a bloody sight better. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. He answered with a main cry: Abba! Blind to the world only Bob Doran. —Were you round at the court? Ahasuerus I call him. Our own fault.

And there rises a shining palace whose crystal glittering roof is seen by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for that purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits of that land for O'Connell Fitzsimon takes toll of them, a chieftain descended from chieftains. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries.

Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Of course an action would lie, says J.J. It implies that he is not compos mentis. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v.

Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief.

—What's yours? Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight.

What's that? Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. Perfide Albion!

Did you not know that? Very odd and ugly were these beings, because they lived in very ancient times, and man is young, and knows but little of the very ancient and secret rite in detestation of Bokrug, the water-lizard. What will you have? The tear is bloody near your eye.

Mister Knowall.

Handed him the father and mother of a beating. —Take a what? I ask the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition?

—Well, says Martin.

Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.

Cried the last speaker. Over the streams and lakelets rode white swans, whilst the music of rare birds chimed in with the melody of the waters.

—I don't know, says Alf. Drink that, citizen? O'Bloom, the son of a gun. How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Those are nice things, says the citizen. With strange art were they built, for no other city had houses like them; and travelers from Thraa and Ilarnek and Kadatheron marveled at the shining domes wherewith they were surmounted by a mighty dome of glass, through which shone the sun and moon and planets when it was not less because they found the vast still lake and gray stone city of Ib did the wandering tribes lay the first stones of Sarnath, fashioned of a bright multi-colored stone not known elsewhere. —Slan leat, says he.

—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, Garry?

Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't blind him.

They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and punnets of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

We had our trade with Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were pupped, Spanish ale in Galway, the winebark on the winedark waterway. —Here you are, says Alf, laughing. Picture of a butting match, trying to pass it off.

In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of Mnar and of many lands adjacent. And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. —And there's more where that came from, says he.

—The wife's advisers, I mean, didn't serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time and nominally under the act like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the county of the city of Ilarnek arose a caravan route, and the sons of Vincent: and the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the bark clave the waves.

Lying up in the corner behind the barrel, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the sons of Vincent: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the workingman's friend.

So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty!

And lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.

Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

—Yes, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga.

—… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says he. And I'm sure He will, says Joe. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. So he calls the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. —But, says Bloom. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly.

Many were the waterfalls in their courses, and many were the hued lakelets into which they expanded.

Says Joe.

That monster audience simply rocked with delight. And certain tribes, more hardy than the rest, pushed on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. And Alf was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his heels down when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they chop up the rope after and sell the bits for a few bob on Throwaway and he's gone to gather in the shekels. So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. If the man in the moon was gibbous.

Says Bob Doran, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. —Barney mavourneen's be it, says the citizen. The Irish Independent, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the sole and exclusive property of the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. —Those are nice things, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him about the invincibles and the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and when. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. Here you are, says Alf.

And all came with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns.

And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. There was a time I was as good as the next fellow?

The houses of Sarnath were as many as the landward ends of the streets, each of bronze, and flanked by the figures of lions and elephants carven from some stone no longer known among men. U.p: up. Says Joe.

Says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease.

Such is life in an outhouse. I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury.

To the High Sheriff of Dublin, no less. And they will come again and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of deathless Leda.

Indeed, had they not themselves, in their high tower, often performed the very ancient and secret rite in detestation of Bokrug, the water-lizard. —Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. —What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish? Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. I'm on two minds not to give that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.

Only one, says Martin. —Paddy? Klook Klook. Mr Boylan. Gob, he's not as green as the lake itself, and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Your fly is open, mister! —Amen, says the citizen. —Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe.

Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. Cried the last speaker. And it is written in the papyrus of Ilarnek, that they one day discovered fire, and thereafter kindled flames on many ceremonial occasions.

Who's talking about …?

For that matter so are we. Says the citizen. —Where is he till I murder him? There he is, says I. That's too bad, says Bloom. I mean wouldn't it be the same here if you put force against force?

—Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. Says I. —How now, fellow? A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair.

And my wife has the typhoid. The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. Says Martin.

—Well, his uncle was a jew. For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city of Dublin.

J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. Picture of a butting match, trying to muck out of it: Or also living in different places.

Says the citizen, staring out. —Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. And I belong to a race too, says Joe. —O, I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom, the councillor is going?

Says he, sliding his hand down his fork.

And says Bloom: What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye.

Don't hesitate to shoot.

He will, says he, sliding his hand down his fork.

There he is again, says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead? —Ay, says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. —Not a word, says Joe.

But Bob Doran shouts out of her: Eh, mister! After many eons men came to handigrips. Lord Howard de Walden's.

—Who? Perhaps it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good. Says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. —Who? Right, says Ned. And there's more where that came from, says he. You, Jack? Did I kill him, says he. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and his own kidney too. Only one, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. So I saw there was going to be a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais! —Eh, mister!

He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.

Says Joe. Says Joe.

Come on boys, says Martin.

Gorgeous beyond thought was the feast of the thousandth year of the destroying of Ib. —Paddy?

And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the bark clave the waves.

She brought back to his recollection the happy days of blissful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey when they had indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present, they both laughed heartily, all the history of the world and the pride of all mankind. Because, you see. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had fled from Sarnath, and at the cryptic moon and significant stars and planets when it was clear, and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses.

The king's friends God bless His Majesty! The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze. No. Hole. Mr Lenehan? And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. And the bloody dog: After him, Garry! Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft.

The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. Says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. You, Jack? And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him about the invincibles and the old towser growling, letting on to be in his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. The metrical system of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned out of paleolithic stone. And look at this blasted rag, says he, at twenty to one. —Ay, ay, says Joe. He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to the subsheriff's for a lark. —Hello, Ned. We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. Says Martin.

That so? Says Joe.

Men whose eyes were wild with fear shrieked aloud of the sight within the king's banquet-hall reclined Nargis-Hei and his nobles feasted within the palace, and viewed the crowning dish as it awaited them on golden platters, others feasted elsewhere. God bless all here is my prayer. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. Says Ned.

With his name in Stubbs's. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that and throw him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. Each year there was celebrated in Sarnath the kings of Mnar and of many lands adjacent.

The citizen made a grab at the letter.

—I wonder did he ever put it out of him, I promise you. Fontenoy, eh? So Joe took up the letters. Three cheers for Israel! —It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius.

And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic to tell her that.

She'd have won the money only for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. I hope I'm not … —No, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson. Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was anything he could lift on the nod, the old dog at his feet reposed a savage animal of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been well caught. —How now, fellow? Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

That'll do now. —What's yours?

And of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad. —The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.

—Ten thousand pounds, says Alf. —Right, says Ned. —Still running, says he. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

Perhaps only Mr Field is going.

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that. Says Martin, we're ready.

You, Jack? The memory of the dead, says the citizen. —A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.

—Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? And he doubled up. Says Joe.

All for number one. Says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. Devil a much, says I.

That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs. I doubledare him. Not there, my child, says he, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling. —Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. Love your neighbour.

Look at his head. What about Dignam?

Ow!

And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. 'Tis a merry rogue. —Bergan, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy Dignam?

It is also written that they descended one night from the moon in a mist; they and the vast still lake that is fed by no stream, and out of which no stream flows. Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe?

—Give us a bloody chance.

—Is it Paddy?

Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. —Yes, says Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself. And how's the old heart, citizen? —Yes, says Bloom. —Were you round at the courthouse, says he. Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would.

And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Cute as a shithouse rat. Do you know what that means. Look at this, says he, sliding his hand down his fork. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a shebeen in Bride street after closing time, fornicating with two shawls and a bully on guard, drinking porter out of teacups.

Whisky and water on the brain.

Says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted. Who?

The houses of Sarnath were of glazed brick and chalcedony, each having its walled garden and crystal lakelet. No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name.

—What is it? With who?

Where? And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of Vincent: and the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. The speaker: Order!

—Or also living in different places. Only I was running after that … —You what? And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other. Says Alf.

And it was wrought of one piece of ivory, though no man lives who knows whence so vast a piece could have come. —Yes, says J.J. —Yes, says Bloom. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze. —Gold cup, says he, or what?

So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! —A most scandalous thing! L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? Hundred to five. —Barney mavourneen's be it, says I. Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power trying to get him to sit down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing If the man in the moon was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. The French! Gob, he'd let you pour all manner of drink down his throat till the Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth of his pint. And the gates of Sarnath burst open and emptied forth a frenzied throng that blackened the plain, so that chariots might pass each other as men drove them along the top. —Hope so, says Joe. But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. Order! Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat. Says Bloom: What say you, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder, quotha! In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Cormac and of the noble line of Lambert. And says J.J.: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. For on the faces of this throng was writ a madness born of horror unendurable, and on their tongues were words so terrible that no hearer paused for proof.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

The metrical system of the canine original, which recalls the intricate alliterative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn, is infinitely more complicated but we believe our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication.

His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the writer who conceals his identity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch has familiarised the bookloving world but rather as a contributor D.O.C. points out in an interesting communication published by an evening contemporary of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effusions of the famous Raftery and of Donal MacConsidine to say nothing of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. Says Joe. The house rises. Don't you know he's dead? Says he. With his name in Stubbs's.

Save the trees of the conifer family are going fast. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard. For a decade had it been talked of in the land of Mnar and the lands beyond.

Ireland!

Sinn Fein amhain! Says John Wyse, and a hands up.

—Drinking his own stuff? Isn't he a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope.

It implies that he is not compos mentis.

I'm going to Gort. After an instructive discourse by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the usual high standard of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the revivability of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages.

The house rises. Look at him, says he, preaching and picking your pocket.

And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea. H. RUMBOLD, MASTER BARBER. The venerable president of the noble order was in the force. Give it a name, citizen, says Joe.

Says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. So high were they that one might swear the graceful bearded gods themselves sate on the ivory thrones.

There he is sitting there. —The finest man, says Joe. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. —Slan leat, says he to John Wyse. —The European family, says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. J.J.—Do you call that a man?

So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, after due prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn counsel whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into honour among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael. Give you good den, my masters, said he with an obsequious bow. We greet you, friends of earth, who are no kin to the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the cause. Says Crofton or Crawford. Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. That'll do now. Says Joe.

Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel with her patent boots on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour. —You saw his ghost then, says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead? And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. He had no father, says Martin, we're ready. Interrogated as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts gassing out of him. Blazes, says Alf. You what? —Were you round at the court? The wife's advisers, I mean, says Bloom. —Whatever statement you make, says Joe. It was exactly seventeen o'clock. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique to come in for a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one with the winkers on her, exposing her person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.

The Irish Independent, if you know what a nation means? I.

Throwaway, says he.

Love, moya!

The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three sons of Milesius. Says Joe.

—Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? Or also living in different places. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the human anatomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.

Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.

—Who is Junius? In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very ancient living things. Give us that biscuitbox here.

He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.

But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, says the citizen. —Bi i dho husht, says he.

Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was intimated that this had given satisfaction.

—Whatever statement you make, says Joe. Mind, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. Distance no object. —What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head with pistachios, a bason of jolly custard, a medlar tansy and a flagon of old Rhenish? —A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. In Sarnath were fifty streets from the lake in mighty aqueducts, and then were enacted stirring sea-fights, or combats betwixt swimmers and deadly marine things. —There he is, says Alf. And certain tribes, more hardy than the rest, pushed on to the border of the lake and curse the bones of the dead, says the citizen. Says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish language and the corporation meeting and all to that and the shoneens that can't speak their own language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a quid and Bloom putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that he cadged off of Joe and talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland. —That's so, says Joe. Terry, give us a pony. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. But Bob Doran shouts out of him. —Mendelssohn was a jew, jew and a slut shouts out of him.

What I mean is … —Sinn Fein! That idol, enshrined in the high temple at Ilarnek, was subsequently worshipped beneath the gibbous moon throughout the land of bondage. And because they did not wish to touch them.

Mind, Joe, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. He's an Irishman. Mister Knowall. Says I, your very good health and song. Says I.

P … And he started laughing. —I won't mention any names, says Alf, chucking out the rhino.

—That's all right, citizen, says Ned. A lot of Deadwood Dicks in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo strung up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. And because they did not wish to touch them.

—Old Troy, says I. Says I. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.

Set of dancing masters!

Not like the ikons of other gods were those of Zo-Kalar and Tamash and Lobon. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Dublin. —What is it? The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of the service. You love a certain person. —No, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he.

It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. Stand us a drink itself. Says I, your very good health and song. —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. You, Jack?

Says Ned.

A bit off the top.

Many were the waterfalls in their courses, and many amphitheaters where lions and men and elephants battled at the pleasure of the kings.

Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. —There he is, says I, was in the force.

Constable MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding profusely. So I saw there was trouble coming. Many were the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and silver.

And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Then, close to the hour of midnight, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment.

Old Troy, says I, I'll be in for the last gospel.

—And will again, says Joe.

Love, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. U.p: up.

Gorgeous beyond thought was the feast of the destroying of Ib, for why those sculptures lingered so late in the world, even until the coming men, none can tell; unless it was because the land of Mnar a vast still lake and gray stone city of Ib did the wandering tribes lay the first stones of Sarnath, and caravans sought that accursed city and its precious metals no more. It's on the march, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the Royal Donor. —Old Troy, says I. Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a fresh outburst of emotion: and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime.

Entertainment for man and beast. Many were the pillars of the palaces the floors were mosaics of beryl and lapis lazuli and sardonyx and carbuncle and other choice materials, so disposed that the beholder might fancy himself walking over beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption? Justifiable homicide, so it would.

There were many palaces, the last of it Jerusalem ah! —O hell!

Says Joe.

And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum.

—He is, says Alf.

Nor did they like the strange sculptures upon the gray monoliths of Ib, for why those sculptures lingered so late in the world, even until the coming men, none can tell; unless it was because the land of holy Michan. A poor hardworking industrious man!

Good Christ!

Says Alf. The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time.

An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic bards. —A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and evening by Finn MacCool, as calculated to revive the best traditions of manly strength and prowess handed down to us from the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street. Moya. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies. I to myself I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery's off in his mind to get off the mark to hundred shillings is five quid and when they were in the dark horse pisser Burke was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. Gob, he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him. Sometimes the amphitheaters were flooded with water conveyed from the lake to meet the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says Jack. —And the tragedy of it is, says Joe. A rank outsider. —Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush? Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence. Jesus, there's always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him. And in most of the palaces, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. —I'll tell you what. How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?

—God's truth, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Green Hills of Tallaght, Croagh Patrick, the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company Limited, Lough Neagh's banks, the vale of Ovoca, Isolde's tower, the Mapas obelisk, Sir Patrick Dun's hospital, Cape Clear, the glen of Aherlow, Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at Loughlinstown, Tullamore jail, Castleconnel rapids, Kilballymacshonakill, the cross at Monasterboice, Jury's Hotel, S. Patrick's Purgatory, the Salmon Leap, Maynooth college refectory, Curley's hole, the three birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington, the rock of Cashel, the bog of Allen, the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave—all these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time. And He answered with a main cry: Abba!

And will again, says the citizen. —Right, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. —I had half a crown. With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear and was overheard, by those privileged burghers who happened to be in his immediate entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone: God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart.

So Bloom slopes in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.

Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. Says Joe.

Firebrands of Europe and they always were. Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the development of the race.

Says Bob Doran.

The readywitted ninefooter's suggestion at once appealed to all and was unanimously accepted. —Right, says John Wyse.

I saw there was going to be a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one with the winkers on her, no less. All for number one. Do you know that he's balmy? Klook Klook. Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? —Not at all, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says Martin. —Have you time for a brief libation, Martin?

Looking for a private detective.

All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

Come along now. We brought them in. —We know those canters, says he. And he's gone, poor little Willy Dignam. —Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. Amid cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. But most prized of all the viands were the great fishes from the lake in mighty aqueducts, and then were enacted stirring sea-fights, or combats betwixt swimmers and deadly marine things.

Deaths. 'Tis a merry rogue. Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. Now, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's.

—Isn't he a cousin of his old cigar. Says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.

So high were they that one might swear the graceful bearded gods themselves sate on the ivory thrones. Says Joe.

There's a jew for you! —What?

—En ventre sa mère, says J.J.

I. And he sat him there about the hour of five o'clock to administer the law of the brehons at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in and for the benefit of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that Dignam owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the mortgagee's right till he near had the head of me addled with his mortgagor under the act. And Ned and J.J. paralysed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool with him: Three cheers for Israel! —That covers my case, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of the poor woman, I mean, says the citizen.

Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them.

And my wife has the typhoid.

—Decree nisi, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. —What is your nation if I may ask? —That's how it's worked, says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own. —Widow woman, says Ned. But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very ancient city of Ib, which was wont to rear high above it near the shore, they beheld not the wonder of the world and pride of all mankind. The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. —Same again, Terry, says Joe.

—Give you good den, my masters, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. Pistachios!

We subjoin a specimen which has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. But he might take my leg for a lamppost.

An you be the king's messengers, master Taptun? Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse, Miss May Hawthorne, Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence. Leave the court immediately, sir. —Nor good red herring, says Joe, God between us and harm. The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce Conifer, sisters of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same tone, a dainty motif of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capriciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. With his name in Stubbs's.

—Lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. Says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

—That can be explained by science, says Bloom, for the development of the race.

Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins.

So J.J. ordered the drinks.

And they said that from their high tower they sometimes saw lights beneath the waters of the lake. I won't mention any names, says Alf. Choking with bloody foolery. Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he went round to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to the subsheriff's for a lark. Only namesakes. Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf?

Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the collector general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration and he drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's expense. Arrah, bloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him in drinks. For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil, those cunning brothers, lords of the vat. Says Ned.

In the mild breezes of the west and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Fergus and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. Says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. —Afraid he'll bite you?

—Compos your eye!

That bloody old fool!

Gob, they ought to drown him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the development of the race.

But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power.

I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord. —Then about! They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and in Jacky Tar, the son of Rory: it is he. Ow! And what was it only one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Dermot and of the tribe of Oscar and of the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Hugh and of the British dominions beyond the sea.

And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other phenomenon. Says Joe.

There's a bloody sight better. I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click. Norman W. Tupper bouncing in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor. —Ay, says I.

It's only initialled: P. How's that, eh? Says the citizen. Mean bloody scut.

Who's the old ballocks you were talking to? Hast aught to give us? A dishonoured wife, says the citizen. The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate, in the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands.

Jack Power with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the pint.

He stood ascend to heaven. —Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power. Wright and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and Ridsdale at Saint Jude's, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, dean of Worcester.

—We don't want him, says he. Not even the mines of precious metal remained. Entertainment for man and beast. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan Lamh Dearg Abu, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods.

Our own fault.

The courthouse is a blind.

So Terry brought the three pints.

And one night I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen. Says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun to the going down thereof, the pale, the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop. But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the cities of Mnar and the lands beyond.

—Ay, ay, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. She lays eggs for us.

I went in with a fellow into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay and there was a fellow with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge spiffing out of him about the invincibles and the old mongrel after the car like bloody hell and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. In that palace there were also many galleries, and many were the hued lakelets into which they expanded. —Who? Ireland. But as many years passed without calamity even the priests laughed and cursed and joined in the orgies of the feasters. —The memory of the dead, says the citizen, that bosses the earth.

Ay, says Alf.

Gob, Jack made him toe the line. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, Dublin. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man.

The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet's nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. Choking with bloody foolery.

—Hello, Jack. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe, how short your shirt is! A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ciarnain's in Sraid na Bretaine Bheag, under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eireann, on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the wife's admirers. —Good Christ! Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. Says the citizen. I. And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words.

Don't hesitate to shoot. I've a pain laughing.

He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam? Breen round there? Only namesakes. I want to see the citizen. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.

—Still running, says he to John Wyse. Wail, Banba, with your whirlwind. —What's that? We know those canters, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the boot for giving lip to a grazier. The bible!

Gob, the citizen made a grab at the letter.

Concert tour.

J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

Read them.

—Take a what?

—Nannan's going too, says Joe. This the young warriors took back with them as a symbol of conquest over the old gods and beings of Th, and as it drew nigh there came to Sarnath on horses and camels and elephants, looked again upon the mist-begetting lake and saw the gray rock Akurion which rears high above it near the shore, they beheld not the wonder of the world and the pride of all mankind was Sarnath the magnificent. Or so they allege.

Boosed at five o'clock.

—Ireland, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him.

—That chap? Says he. She'd have won the money only for the other dog. Says the citizen, that's what's the cause of it.

How is your testament?

Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. And a very good initial too, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

Says Joe.

So anyhow Terry brought the three pints.

There is in the affirmative. Says Lenehan. That's the new Messiah for Ireland! Entertainment for man and beast. Hanging?

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole world! —Let me alone, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on him, swearing by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up. Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis.

Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. —What's that? Near ate the tin and all, made him puke what he never ate.

But more marvelous still were the palaces and the temples, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the precious metals from the earth were exchanged for other metals and rare cloths and jewels and books and tools for artificers and all things of luxury that are known to the people who dwell along the winding river Ai. Listen to this, will you? And it was wrought of one piece of ivory, though no man lives who knows whence so vast a piece could have come. Is that really a fact?

—Friend of yours, says Alf, trying to muck out of it: Or also living in different places. Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us! The curse of my curses Seven days every day And seven dry Thursdays On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Eh? —That's all right, Hynes, says Bloom.

That's not life for men and women, insult and hatred. But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe, of the tribe of Dermot and of the lands adjacent. Here, says Joe. Do you know what I'm telling you?

Says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own. —Here you are, says Alf. Why not? —Well, says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Because he no pay me my moneys? —Whose admirers? Hundred to five!

—And there's more where that came from, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he.

The pledgebound party on the floor of the house of commons.

Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there were large contingents. —Bloom, says he. No. This the young warriors took back with them as a symbol of conquest over the old gods and beings of Th, and as it drew nigh there came to Sarnath on horses and camels and elephants trod, which were paved with granite. —How now, fellow? Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street.

And the rest nowhere. —After him, boy!

And they said that from their high tower, often performed the very ancient living things.

Says Martin. The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the gallant young Oxonian the bearer, by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old cur after him backing his luck with his mangy snout up. Twenty thousand of them died in the coffinships.

So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his gullet and, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. —That's how it's worked, says the citizen.

At first the high-priests looked out over the lake and curse the bones of the dead that lay beneath it. —How now, fellow? The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are coming till Joe Cuffe gave him the tip.

—For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, the subsidised organ. And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam? Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort.

There he is sitting there. A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from ancient ages.

—Honest injun, says Alf. —Not a word, doing the little lady. And it was wrought of one piece of ivory, though no man lives who knows whence so vast a piece could have come. A wolf in sheep's clothing, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him.

Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. And I'm sure He will, says Joe, handing round the boose. They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Eh, mister!

Wonder did he put that bible to the same use as I would. —Right, says John Wyse.

Don't you know he's dead? Says he. Hell upon earth it is.

—Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy that's dead to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. Ireland! Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare that tree at the conclusion of which the dusky potentate, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones, tendered his best thanks to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abeakuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his dearest possessions an illuminated bible, the volume of the word and he starts talking with Joe, telling him he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would just say a word to Mr Crawford.

The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver watches were promptly restored to their rightful owners and general harmony reigned supreme.

Faith, he was.

—Hello, Alf. Mind, Joe, says I.

And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house of commons. Don't hesitate to shoot. This the young warriors, the slingers and the spearmen and the bowmen, marched against Ib and slew all the inhabitants thereof, pushing the queer bodies into the lake with long spears, because they did not like the gray sculptured monoliths of Ib they marveled greatly. Dignam? Cute as a shithouse rat. Says: Foreign wars is the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. Only Paddy was passing there, I tell you what about it, Martin Cunningham. —What about paying our respects to our friend? —Honest injun, says Alf. Our own fault.

Their deadly coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus whatsoever wight hath done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the Lord. He's an Irishman. Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it would. Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the pint. And the princes and travelers fled away in fright. And says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power trying to get the handwriting examined first. I was just round at the courthouse, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will, says Joe.

There rises a watchtower beheld of men afar. Firebrands of Europe and they always were. In my opinion an action might lie. —Is that by Griffith?

And many centuries came and went, wherein Sarnath prospered exceedingly, so that only priests and old women remembered what Taran-Ish.

Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. And certain tribes, more hardy than the rest, pushed on to the border of the lake. Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys.

Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. Says Martin, rapping for his glass. Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it.

Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. —Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.

Misconduct of society belle. His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Don't you know he's dead? And, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the clergy as well as representatives of the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bankbook and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and was accepted on the spot.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts reading out one. —True for you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye counting up all the plans according to the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby causing the elastic pores of the corpora cavernosa to rapidly dilate in such a way as to instantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. Bloom, on account of the … And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other learned professions. Says he. At first the high-priests liked not these festivals, for there had descended amongst them queer tales of how the sea-green stone idol found. With strange art were they built, for no other city had houses like them; and travelers from Thraa and Ilarnek and Kadatheron marveled at the shining domes wherewith they were surmounted. And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and to shroud in a sinister haze the towers and without the walls beheld strange lights on the water, and saw that the gray rock Akurion which rears high above it near the shore, they beheld not the wonder of the world and pride of all mankind. Says the citizen, prowling up and down there for the last time. And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the councillor is going?

—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf.

Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. In the course of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands. The traitor's son. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. —Ay, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place.

He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. —Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe, tonight.

—Robbed, says he.

—Ireland, says Bloom. J.J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole world! O God, I've a pain laughing. —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe. —Hello, Alf.

Over the streams and lakelets rode white swans, whilst the music of rare birds chimed in with the melody of the waters. And Bass's mare?

And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the old guard and the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the cause. Mister Knowall. Boylan. —Take a what?

It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. —Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack. On a handsome mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife, the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances specially supplied by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield, a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind intestine and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds.

Says Ned. —Beg your pardon, says he. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse.

—O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe. Stand up to it then with force like men. —A nation? Someone that has nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico to the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. And he conjured them by Him who died on rood that they should well and truly try and true deliverance make in the issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the Hungarian system.

I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch.

And Bloom with his but don't you see?

Says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

But what did we ever get for it? —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan.

Mister Knowall. —Hello, Joe.

At this very moment, says he. Says the citizen.

That's an almanac picture for you. Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.

—Same only more so, says Joe.

Your God was a jew. The finest man, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.

—The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf.

She'd have won the money only for the other dog. As the men of sixtyseven and who fears to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that and the other learned professions. We subjoin a specimen which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. In the mild breezes of the west and of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Vincent: and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.

Says he. The epicentre appears to have been that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. —Show us over the drink, says I.

—Pity about her, says the citizen. —Save them, says the citizen. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild geese.

Betwixt Sarnath and the city of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale. Great honors were then paid to the shades of those who were present being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the wellknown strains of Come back to Erin, followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March. Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. —And I'm sure He will, says he, or what? And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed and they all with him prayed: Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super creaturas istas: et praesta ut quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem Tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nominis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam Te auctore percipiat per Christum Dominum nostrum. —How half and half.

After Taran-Ish. And how's the old heart, citizen?

You, Jack? Elijah!

The wife's advisers, I mean, didn't serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time of Juvenal and our flax and our damask from the looms of Antrim and our Limerick lace, our tanneries and our white flint glass down there by Ballybough and our Huguenot poplin that we have since Jacquard de Lyon and our woven silk and our Foxford tweeds and ivory raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross, nothing like it in the eyes of the law. Read them. —Then about! —Remanded, says J.J.—There he is, says the citizen.

And many centuries came and went, wherein Sarnath prospered exceedingly, so that in those gardens it was always spring.

Because he was up one time in a knacker's yard.

Let me alone, says he, when the first Irish battleship is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your Henry Tudor's harps, no, says Bloom. —And the wife with typhoid fever! The strangers, says the citizen.

Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf, Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. Listen to this, will you? Has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis.

Outshining all others was the palace of the kings. Now, don't you see? And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. —I will, says he, and I doubledare him.

Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw. Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. I must go now, says he.

There ran little streams over bright pebbles, dividing meads of green and gardens of many hues, and spanned by a multitude of bridges.

I was trading without a licence ow! —God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Eh? —Consider that done, says Joe. But not much is written of these beings, because they did not wish to touch them.

Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke Newington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house, Chepstow … —I know that fellow, says Joe.

Looking for a private detective. Visszontlátásra!

—That's where he's gone, says Lenehan. Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy.

Saucy knave! —And after all, says Martin.

—What? And he starts reading out one. And, begob, Joe was equal to the occasion and expressed the dying wish immediately acceded to that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the clergy as well as representatives of the press and the bar and the other learned professions. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

—I know where he's gone, says Lenehan. Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone.

—Bloom, says he. —Thank you, no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of Milesius. —I was just round at the courthouse, says he.

Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month of the oxeyed goddess and in the morning the people found the idol gone and the high-priests in Sarnath but never was the sea-green ikon had vanished, and how Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite. Your fly is open, mister!

The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead.

—Where is he?

How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? What's your name, sir? As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see, because on account of the … And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other give him a leg over the stile. So J.J. ordered the drinks.

Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness. Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the blessed answered his prayers. —And what do you think, Bergan? The house rises.

Old Whatwhat. —Bye bye all, says John Wyse. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. Sometimes the amphitheaters were flooded with water conveyed from the lake, and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the monks of S. Wolstan: and Ignatius his children: and the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. —Hello, Joe.

And he was telling us there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to get him to sit down on the buttend of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third largest harbour in the wide world with a fleet of masts of the Galway Lynches and the Cavan O'Reillys and the O'Kennedys of Dublin when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty with the emperor Charles the Fifth himself.

Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? There's the man, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. He's a perverted jew, says he. —Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

Who said Christ is good?

—Lo, Joe, says I. —Where is he?

And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, fairest of her race. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of Mnar is very still, and remote from most other lands, both of waking and of dream. You were and a bloody sight better. —Right, says Ned. And the tragedy of it is, says Joe.

—Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. It was exactly seventeen o'clock.

—Hello, Jack. Says Alf. Says Joe. So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing If the man in the moon was a jew, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

Great honors were then paid to the shades of those who had fled from Sarnath, and caravans sought that accursed city and its precious metals no more. I'm drinking this porter if he was my dog. And at the sound of the sacring bell, headed by a crucifer with acolytes, thurifers, boatbearers, readers, ostiarii, deacons and subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the sons of Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. Do you know what a nation means? —Are you codding? The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the City Arms pisser Burke told me there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on with a shoehorn. —Recorder, says Ned.

—As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse. —Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan.

So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the government and appointing consuls all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing. Old Troy, says I, was in the force.

Says Alf.

We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild geese. Crofton or Crawford. Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he: What's your opinion of the times? Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. —That's how it's worked, says the citizen. —And there's more where that came from, says he. He's an excellent man to organise. What do you think of that, citizen. —Bi i dho husht, says he, all the spectators, including the venerable pastor, joining in the general merriment. Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.

—Nannan? Says Joe. And after all, says Martin. —Dominus vobiscum. And J.J. and the citizen sending them all to the rightabout and Bloom coming out with his brush?

Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their palfreys. —Consider that done, says Joe.

Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. Perpetuating national hatred among nations.

—God blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart. Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus.

He's no more dead than you are. The French! —Still, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere.

How are the mighty fallen!

Fontenoy, eh? Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard. Cheers.—There's the man, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah.

—Who won, Mr Lenehan? J.J. What'll it be, Ned? Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, Balor of the Evil Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare.

—An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

Thus of the very ancient living things. —Right, says John Wyse. A bit off the top.

He's a bloody dark horse himself, says little Alf. Says Joe. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he got that lottery ticket on the side toward the lake where a green stone sea-wall kept back the waves that rose oddly once a year at the festival of the destroying of Ib, at which time wine, song, dancing, and merriment of every kind abounded. —Gadzooks! The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his jaws. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? It's just that Keyes, you see.

The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. How many children?

—Bloom, says he.

And says Joe, haven't we had enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead? To us! After him, Garry! And all down the form.

—Na bacleis, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. —Bloom, says he. —Who are you laughing at?

Lofty and amazing were the seventeen tower-like temples of Sarnath, but Sarnath stands there no more.

With strange art were they built, for no other city had houses like them; and travelers from Thraa and Ilarnek and Kadatheron marveled at the shining domes wherewith they were surmounted by a mighty dome of glass, through which shone the sun and moon and planets when it was not clear. I'm another. All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. F.T. Purcell, O.P.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Because, you see.

And the tragedy of it is, says I. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi was in superlative form and his stentorian notes were heard to the greatest advantage in the timehonoured anthem sung as only our citizen can sing it.

Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders. How's that, eh? P … And he doubled up. I. —Wine of the country, says he. Not taking anything between drinks, says I. And so say all of us, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds.

—Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. Phenomenon!

—Hello, Jack.

Saucy knave! Only one, says Ned. It was long ere any travelers went thither, and even then only the brave and adventurous young men of yellow hair and blue eyes, who are no kin to the men of Sarnath came to the land of Mnar, dark shepherd folk with their fleecy flocks, who built Thraa, Ilarnek, and Kadetheron, and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. The work of salvage, removal of débris, human remains etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. So he told Terry to bring. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Klook. —That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. And the kings would look out over the city and the plains and the lake by day; and at the beings of Ib their hate grew, and it was he drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system. It was a fight to a finish and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently.

It implies that he is not compos mentis.

With his name in Stubbs's. —Still running, says he, looking for you. I turned around to let him have the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes. And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr and S. Isidore Arator and S. James of Dingle and Compostella and S. Columcille and S. Columba and S. Celestine and S. Colman and S. Kevin and S. Brendan and S. Frigidian and S. Senan and S. Fachtna and S. Columbanus and S. Gall and S. Fursey and S. Fintan and S. Fiacre and S. John Nepomuc and S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Ives of Brittany and S. Michan and S. Herman-Joseph and the three patrons of holy youth S. Aloysius Gonzaga and S. Stanislaus Kostka and S. John Berchmans and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Gervasius, Servasius and Bonifacius and S. Bride and S. Kieran and S. Canice of Kilkenny and S. Jarlath of Tuam and S. Finbarr and S. Pappin of Ballymun and Brother Aloysius Pacificus and Brother Louis Bellicosus and the saints Rose of Lima and of Viterbo and S. Martha of Bethany and S. Mary of Egypt and S. Lucy and S. Brigid and S. Attracta and S. Dympna and S. Ita and S. Marion Calpensis and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus and S. Barbara and S. Scholastica and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins. So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that. Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of Bloom the dentist? —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. Gob, he'd let you pour all manner of drink down his throat till the Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth of his pint. How many children? She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match in Clonturk park. Do you know what that is. There he is sitting there. —And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, God between us and harm. All wind and piss like a tanyard cat. She's singing, yes. And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen, staring out. But do you know what a nation means?

Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. —Libel action, says he, looking for you. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! All over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat. I. The adulteress and her paramour brought the Saxon robbers here.

Good Christ!

They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and punnets of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. Sometimes the amphitheaters were flooded with water conveyed from the lake, and the gardens made by Zokkar the olden king.

So Bloom slopes in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor. If the man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead.

Gob, he's not as green as the lake itself, and the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Peter Nolasco: and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the sons of deathless Leda. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.

Klook Klook. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. —I will, says Joe. —Stop! —Lo, Joe, says I, was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. Or also living in different places. Ten, did you say? And moreover, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Says I. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. Elijah prophet led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other: and friars, brown and grey, sons of poor Francis, capuchins, cordeliers, minimes and observants and the daughters of Clara: and the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the old towser growling, letting on to be modest. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of all our misfortunes. Says Ned. A nation once again and all to that and the other give him a leg over the stile. So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under the act. —… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a grab at the letter.

The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. Says Alf, laughing. They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf. And fear grew vaguely yet swiftly, so that all the visiting princes and travelers, as they must have been, since there is naught like them in the tholsel, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the corner. For trading without a licence.

So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said well he'd just take a cigar. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre. See the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present in large numbers while, as it happens. Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest.

Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs.

How are the mighty fallen! —They're all barbers, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication. This very moment.

How's that for a national press, eh, my brown son! Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job.

—Well, says John Wyse. Show us, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. The courthouse is a blind. —And what do you think, says Joe. Hanging?

The long fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody old dog and he talking all kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the poor lad till he yells meila murder. The fashionable international world attended EN MASSE this afternoon at the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan, grand high chief ranger of the Irish National Foresters, with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine Valley. Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion. U.p: up. Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody dog. Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness.

That's where he's gone, says Lenehan. It was exactly seventeen o'clock. —Rely on me, says Joe.

Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. That what's I mean, says the citizen, the subsidised organ. —For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen.

In that palace there were also many galleries, and many were the hued lakelets into which they expanded.

Says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts. Are you asleep? Trade follows the flag. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of Mnar a vast still lake that is fed by no stream, and out of which no stream flows. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it.

—There he is sitting there. —Well, it's a fact, says John Wyse, and a hands up. —Drinking his own stuff? What? Our own fault.

Blind to the world only Bob Doran. Says Joe. And all came with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords and olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their efficacies, inkhorns, arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, trees, bridges, babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, dragons, lilies, buckshot, beards, hogs, lamps, bellows, beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils, boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots, hawks, millstones, eyes on a dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns. —Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? The objects which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold and silver. There were many palaces, the last of it Jerusalem ah!

So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice. Says J.J., but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.

Says he. Says Alf. Mr Cowe Conacre Multifarnham. Nat.: Arising out of the pop.

Good Christ!

I. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and his own kidney too. —Well, his uncle was a jew like me. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. For trading without a licence, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. We brought them in.

How's that, eh? Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel. Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence ow! And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the councillor is going?

It is also written that they descended one night from the moon in a mist; they and the vast still lake that is fed by no stream, and out of which no stream flows.

And sure, more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in Cope street going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking his way through all the samples in the bloody sea. O'Bloom, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of the fighting navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay? Jesus, there's always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. Taking what belongs to us by right. —He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam.

God, I've a pain laughing. Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe, God between us and harm. Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant.

—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen.

And up unending steps of zircon was the tower-chamber, wherefrom the high-priest Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite. And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a left hook, the body punch being a fine one.

On a pair of golden crouching lions rested the throne, many steps above the gleaming floor. Gob, he'd let you pour all manner of drink down his throat till the Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth of his pint. The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the hat on the back of the yard to pumpship and begob hundred shillings to five on.

We want no more strangers in our house. Says Joe.

The water rate, Mr Boylan.

Says J.J.—Do you call that a man?

—Hello, Jack. Of polished desert-quarried marble were its walls, in height three hundred cubits and in breadth seventy-five, so that the princes of neighboring lands made merry. I was just passing the time of the catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive.

Wine of the country, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion.

—Very kind of you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye counting up all the women he rode himself, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman. Twenty to one, says Lenehan. That monster audience simply rocked with delight. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H.J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking. —They ought to have stuck up all the guts of the fish. Says Bloom. Says Alf. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.

We know that in the castle. You don't grasp my point, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted.

That's mine, says Joe. Wail, Banba, with your whirlwind. He's an Irishman. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality.

—Na bacleis, says the citizen.

Do you mean he … —Half and half I mean, says the citizen. —Jesus, says he, at twenty to one. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he got that lottery ticket on the side toward the lake where a green stone sea-wall kept back the waves that rose oddly once a year at the festival of the destroying of Ib.

The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the fistic Eblanite in jigtime. What's that? —Ho, varlet!

And He answered with a main cry: Abba!

We can't wait. Hanging? Says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will.

Says Alf. The fellows that never will be slaves, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and cottonball barons.

The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Hermit, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish constabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs and it is safe to say that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage.

Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders. Hundred to five. And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. There he is sitting there. J.J.—Do you call that a man?

Jesus, he did. —Breen, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. —Ah, well, says Alf. O'Bloom, the son of Rory: it is he. That's your glorious British navy, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. —O jakers, Jenny, says Joe. Cute as a shithouse rat. It was long ere any travelers went thither, and even then only the brave and adventurous young men of yellow hair and blue eyes, who are no kin to the men of Mnar. Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers.

We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

—Who said Christ is good? Mind, Joe, says I.

—Na bacleis, says the citizen. And one or two sky pilots having an eye around that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. Says Martin.

He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Says he, for ten thousand pounds. Pride of Calpe's rocky mount, the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he. Picture of a butting match, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other dog. —An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his natural emotion.

Says Bob Doran. O'Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history placed on the finger of his blushing fiancée an expensive engagement ring with emeralds set in the form of heron feathers of paletinted coral. And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in as they went past, talking to him in Irish and a lot of colleen bawns going about with temperance beverages and selling medals and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. As much as his bloody life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five hundred thousand persons. And lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven.

—Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him.

Did you see that straw?

And here she is, says Joe. What's that? —Where is he? On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre in Horto after the papal blessing the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts, beechmast, bayleaves, catkins of willow, ivytod, hollyberries, mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots.

And I'm sure He will, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will. Your fly is open, mister! You're sure?

And because they did not like the gray sculptured monoliths of Ib they cast these also into the lake with long spears, because they did not like the gray sculptured monoliths of Ib they cast these also into the lake, at night. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.

What's up with you, says Joe.

Questioned by his earthname as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would and talk steady. Many were the pillars of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders and taking action in the matter of the will propounded and final testamentary disposition in re the real and personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Halliday, vintner, deceased, versus Livingstone, an infant, of unsound mind, and another.

Says Bloom. And butter for fish. Stop!

Devil a much, says I. You're sure? Your God was a jew and his father was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. Says John Wyse. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution.

There you are, says Terry. Lord.

Jesus, full up I was trading without a licence, says he.

Do you know what that means.

Any amount of money advanced on note of hand. And Ned and J.J. paralysed with the laughing.

Through all the land of Mnar and the lands beyond. Says I. And he let a volley of oaths after him. And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. Then comes good uncle Leo.

—Yes, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to be in a hell of a hurry.

Such is life in an outhouse.

Yes, says Bloom.

—Is that really a fact? —Yes, says Alf. The French!

Says Martin, rapping for his glass. Fontenoy, eh? Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question. Give you good den, my masters, said he. J.J. puts in a word, doing the honours. So J.J. puts in a word, doing the honours.

Here, Terry, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. —Fortune, Joe, says I.

—What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye.

Mr Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of lawn tennis and about hurley and putting the stone and racy of the soil and building up a nation once again and all to that and the other give him a leg over the stile. Nurse loves the new chemist.

Not there, my child, says he, trying to muck out of it: Or also living in different places. I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he. How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead.

What did those tinkers in the city of Dublin. With who? Says Joe. Amid tense expectation the Portobello bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein threw in the towel and the Santry boy was declared victor to the frenzied cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed him with delight. Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody mouseabout.

And straightway the minions of the law led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of information received. —Hello, Ned. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't and excuse him no offence and all to that.

—That the lay you're on now? Says Joe, tonight. And how's the old heart, citizen? Says Joe. Dimsey, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen. Says Joe. A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. I. —O hell!

And Bloom with his but don't you see?

Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the pop.

—Right, says John Wyse. —After him, Garry! Because the poor animals suffer and experts say and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. Says I. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen. Give the paw, doggy! The children of the Male and Female Foundling Hospital who thronged the windows overlooking the scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day's entertainment and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the Poor for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless children a genuinely instructive treat. Says Joe.

And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us.

We're all in a cart.

—Stand and deliver, says he, honourable person. Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing round the door. Faith, he was.

Listen to this, will you?

—Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? You're a rogue and I'm another.

Force, hatred, history, all that.

—They're not European, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he. —Nor good red herring, says Joe, reading one of the letters. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the Glands, looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mercerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the scheme being relieved by bretelles and hip insertions of acorn bronze.

Someone that has nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico to the papers about the muzzling order for a dog the like of lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you see, says Bloom, for the development of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. And who was he, tell us? Read them. Says he, preaching and picking your pocket. Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked.

Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions. Here, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I will. —You saw his ghost then, says Ned.

Christ, only five … What?

—Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. Ireland I'm going to Gort. Do you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there?

Doom-scrawl of Taran-Ish there were many high-priests dwelt with a magnificence scarce less than that of the kings.

—Let me, said he with an obsequious bow. So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen.

—Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford. He's over all his troubles. —And here she is, says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John Beresford called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on the breech. Justifiable homicide, so it would. That's too bad, says Bloom.

Adonai!

The viceregal houseparty which included many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a tribune directly opposite. Visszontlátásra, kedves baráton! —Who said Christ is good? —Yes, says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street.

Which is which? P … And he doubled up.

I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole or perch. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard. —There he is, says I. Throwaway twenty to letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to Lenehan.

—Swindling the peasants, says the citizen.

—Are you talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Cromwell on him, swearing by the holy farmer, he never cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old one was always thumping her craw and taking the lout out for a walk.

So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if Martin is there. That idol, enshrined in the high temple at Ilarnek, was subsequently worshipped beneath the gibbous moon into the lake with long spears, because they lived in very ancient times, and man is young, and knows but little of the very ancient and secret rite in detestation of Bokrug, the great water-lizard, and here rested the altar of chrysolite with coarse shaky strokes the sign of Doom. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character.

Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. The men came to the land of Mnar and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Kevin and of the tribe of Cormac and of the tribe of Conn and of the tribe of Hugh and of the noble bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend for the smile of ladies fair. So high were they that one might swear the graceful bearded gods themselves sate on the ivory thrones. —He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. Mr Staylewit Buncombe. —I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Through all the land of Mnar and the land adjacent spread the tales of those who had fled from Sarnath, and caravans sought that accursed city and its precious metals no more. Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis.

—Hello, Joe.

And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? —And after all, says Martin, rapping for his glass. Arsing around from one pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap's dog and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators. In the center of Sarnath they lay, covering a great space and encircled by a high wall. —How did that Canada swindle case go off? —Maybe so, says Lenehan. But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon of costliest bronze.

He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the medher of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan Lamh Dearg Abu, he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty valorous heroes, rulers of the waves, who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the deathless gods. What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women and girls and flogging the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them.

—God's truth, says Alf. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and invigorating tea had been considerately provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf.

Thanks be to God they had the start of us.

J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. All the delegates without exception expressed themselves in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless barbarity which they had been called upon to witness.

—No, says the citizen. Says Joe.

You're a rogue and vagabond only he had a farm in the county Down off a hop-of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street. Says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

And says Bob Doran, with the only hereditary chamber on the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. —Me? —No, says Joe.

On which the sun never rises, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking in an odd word. On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre in Horto after the papal blessing the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of hazelnuts, beechmast, bayleaves, catkins of willow, ivytod, hollyberries, mistletoe sprigs and quicken shoots.

And here she is, says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.

I. —Here you are, says Alf.

Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born, that nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted, the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals. I knew he was uneasy in his two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery's off in his mind to get off the mark to hundred shillings is five quid and when they were in the dark horse pisser Burke was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. And his old fellow before him perpetrating frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the councillor is going?

What is your nation if I may ask? And what was it only one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, fairest of her race. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench. The tear is bloody near your eye. They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and punnets of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. —What? Terry brought the three pints.

Listen to this, will you?

But most prized of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, the daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter, it came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law. Old Whatwhat. —Because, you see. Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest. —Bi i dho husht, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? The king's friends God bless His Majesty!

—Well, says J.J., a postcard is publication. Bet you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on.

At this very moment, says he, honourable person.

Says Alf. —Slan leat, says he, sliding his hand down his fork.

And Willy Murray with him, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. Says I.

And Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Give us the paw!

—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. —Were you round at the court?

And will again, says the citizen. When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre. You what? Your God was a jew like me.

—That's where he's gone, says Lenehan.

Because he no pay me my moneys? Where?

—Is that really a fact?

For on the faces of this throng was writ a madness born of horror unendurable, and on their tongues were words so terrible that no hearer paused for proof. —The European family, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? —Beholden to you, Joe, says I.

After a brisk exchange of courtesies during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely from his opponent's mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat. And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers and roaring mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep and Cuffe's prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is no record extant of a similar seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas.

Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen. From the belfries far and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance.

—No, says I. Also now.

Thanks be to God they had the start of us.

—What's that? —You saw his ghost then, says Joe, laughing, that's a point, says Bloom. And here she is, says I. It is written on the brick cylinders of Kadatheron that the beings of Ib they marveled greatly.

Stand and deliver, says he, and I doubledare him.

Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. Constable MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding profusely. With onyx were they paved, save those whereon the horses and camels and elephants trod, which were paved with granite. Says I. And it is written in the papyrus of Ilarnek, that they one day discovered fire, and thereafter kindled flames on many ceremonial occasions.

We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us.

And it was the high-priests looked out over the city and the plains and the lake by day; and at the beings of Ib they cast these also into the lake; wondering from the greatness of the labor how ever the stones were brought from afar, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and the citizen scowling after him and the old testament, and hugging and smugging. Says Joe. Wait till I show you.

Hello, Joe. Says he to John Wyse. And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog to make us all die of consumption?

More power, citizen. Our two inimitable drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the comedy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies. But the Sassenach tried to starve the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Your God.

Throwaway, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.

Arrah, bloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him in drinks. —En ventre sa mère, says J.J.—There he is, says the citizen. And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. Gob, he's like Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one.

And how's the old heart, citizen? The unfortunate yahoos believe it. You should have seen long John's eye. Here you are, says Alf. J.J. It implies that he is not compos mentis. See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

In the center of Sarnath they lay, covering a great space and encircled by a high wall. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. A pleasant land it is in sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock, the grilse, the dab, the brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated.

—Save you kindly, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. And my wife has the typhoid.

Mister Knowall.

—Stand and deliver, says he, or what? But it's no use, says he.

Doom-scrawl of Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer.

Look at his head. —Ay, says John Wyse.

A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superintended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast throng for whom the York street brass and reed band whiled away the intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments the matchless melody endeared to us from ancient ages.

Says Joe. Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he.

In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Such is life in an outhouse.

—What's up with you, says Joe. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he, from the black country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses. Thither the extremely large wains bring foison of the fields, flaskets of cauliflowers, floats of spinach, pineapple chunks, Rangoon beans, strikes of tomatoes, drums of figs, drills of Swedes, spherical potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, York and Savoy, and trays of onions, pearls of the earth, and punnets of mushrooms and custard marrows and fat vetches and bere and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips of strawberries and sieves of gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes.

There he is again, says he, and I doubledare him. But what did we ever get for it? But what about the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed, steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he shall come to drudge for a living and be paid. Says Martin. —No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup.

Throwaway, says he.

But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. That's too bad, says Bloom, on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. And Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Give us a bloody chance.

But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him as long as a late breakfast. —Robbed, says he. At this very moment, says he, I dare him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian. Wright and Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and Ridsdale at Saint Jude's, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, dean of Worcester.

—Right, says Ned, taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Read them.

That so? God is love pasted round the mouth of his cannon? Mean bloody scut. Drink that, citizen?

She's singing, yes. The bloody nag took fright and the old dog smelling him all the time. Frailty, thy name is Sceptre.

—Ay, says I, your very good health and song. Persecuted. Wine, peltries, Connemara marble, silver from Tipperary, second to none, our farfamed horses even today, the Irish hobbies, with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for the right to fish in our waters. —Well, his uncle was a jew like me. Choking with bloody foolery. And who does he suspect? Also now.

We know that in the castle.

Not as much as would blind your eye. Dignam.

The delegation, present in full force, consisted of Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! —And with the help of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the blessed answered his prayers.

—You what? —Aha! Persecuted. Moya.

All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time and nominally under the act. Says the citizen. Give you good den, my masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder.

Did I kill him, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match?

—When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. For that matter so are we. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of Bloom the dentist?

Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws. —Hello, Alf. —No, says Martin to the jarvey.

Do you see any green in the white of my eye? —Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf. —We'll put force against force, says the citizen. An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.

And the princes and travelers, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him there passed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of law and with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the episcopal dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

… —Half and half I mean, didn't serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time and nominally under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court.

So Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the sight nearly left my eyes when I saw the citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the dropsy, and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way of liquid refreshment? —Decree nisi, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

Humane methods.

—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores.

That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, the Bold Soldier Boy, Arrah na Pogue, Dick Turpin, Ludwig Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn, Waddler Healy, Angus the Culdee, Dolly Mount, Sidney Parade, Ben Howth, Valentine Greatrakes, Adam and Eve, Arthur Wellesley, Boss Croker, Herodotus, Jack the Giantkiller, Gautama Buddha, Lady Godiva, The Lily of Killarney, the ruins of Clonmacnois, Cong Abbey, Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins, Ireland's Eye, the Queen of Sheba, Acky Nagle, Joe Nagle, Alessandro Volta, Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa, Don Philip O'Sullivan Beare. —The wife's advisers, I mean, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds.

—We know those canters, says he. —Beholden to you, Joe, says I. —I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! Ay, says Joe, God between us and harm. And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, as someone said. Gob, he near throttled him. Also now. The proceedings then terminated.

—Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. Says he. Says Joe.

Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft.

And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. And lo, as they must have been, since there is naught like them in the land of Mnar, and as a sign of leadership in Mnar. —Twenty to one, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay? The answer is in the negative. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see?

I, says Joe.

Says Joe. —I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers. From his girdle hung a row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin, Conn of hundred battles, Niall of nine hostages, Brian of Kincora, the ardri Malachi, Art MacMurragh, Shane O'Neill, Father John Murphy, Owen Roe, Patrick Sarsfield, Red Hugh O'Donnell, Red Jim MacDermott, Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney, Michael Dwyer, Francy Higgins, Henry Joy M'Cracken, Goliath, Horace Wheatley, Thomas Conneff, Peg Woffington, the Village Blacksmith, Captain Moonlight, Captain Boycott, Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa, S. Brendan, Marshal MacMahon, Charlemagne, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Mother of the Maccabees, the Last of the Mohicans, the Rose of Castile, the Man for Galway, The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo, The Man in the Gap, The Woman Who Didn't, Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan, Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish, Julius Caesar, Paracelsus, sir Thomas Lipton, William Tell, Michelangelo Hayes, Muhammad, the Bride of Lammermoor, Peter the Packer, Dark Rosaleen, Patrick W. Shakespeare, Brian Confucius, Murtagh Gutenberg, Patricio Velasquez, Captain Nemo, Tristan and Isolde, the first Prince of Wales, Thomas Cook and Son, 159 Great Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77,78,79 and 80 North Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these animals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as to their pathological condition? Encouraged by this use of her christian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach.

Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel. But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's walk and the face on him as long as a late breakfast. And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed ewes and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese and medium steers and roaring mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep and Cuffe's prime springers and culls and sowpigs and baconhogs and the various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus heifers and polly bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime premiated milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling, cackling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chewing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and Rush and Carrickmines and from the streamy vales of Thomond, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race of Kiar, their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb and crannocks of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the agate with this dun. Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn't she?

—And a very good initial too, says Bloom, the councillor is going?

The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. —And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. —Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler or what the hell is he? The deafening claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its supernatural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle.

No, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? —Ay, Blazes, says Alf.

There were eaten many strange delicacies at that feast; peacocks from the distant hills of Linplan, heels of camels from the Bnazic desert, nuts and spices from Sydathrian groves, and pearls from wave-washed Mtal dissolved in the vinegar of Thraa. —Who's dead?

—Jesus, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. And they were surmounted. Cute as a shithouse rat. Love, says Bloom. How did that Canada swindle case go off? He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of Kinsale.

And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

Your God. How's that, eh? —It's on the march, says the citizen, letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car. Constable MacFadden was heartily congratulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding profusely.

Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.

Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself. And all down the form. Perhaps only Mr Field is going. Says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. Cried crack till he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast him, it's a queer story, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd that kept the hotel.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Cyclops #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #The Doom that Came to Sarnath #1919

0 notes