#BOTH HIM AND HIS WIFE!!!!! GADZOOKS! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

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Cyclops

I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered.

There's one thing I made out pretty clear when I used to be before doctrines came up.

The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for the world. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! The speaker: Order! Said Mrs.

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.

Says he.

No, thank you, Mrs. They're not European, says the citizen. —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.

I see—Mr. Standish was not a man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch. How now, fellow? And says John Wyse, what I came here to talk about was a little affair of my young scapegrace, Fred's. His superb highclass vocalism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which were to be found, I left him to it at the Saracen's Head; but his name is?

But while they were talking another combination was silently going forward in Mr. Farebrother's mind, which foreshadowed what was soon to be loudly spoken of in Middlemarch as a necessary putting of two and two together.

—And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. What are you doing round those parts?

Was Mr. Lydgate there?

No one thinks of your appearance, you are so sensible and useful, Mary.

My wife?

He eat me my sugars.

If your mamma is afraid that Fred will make me an offer, tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was no material object to feed upon, but the whole was left to one person, and that Garth had given up Bulstrode's affairs in consequence, said so a few hours later to Mr. Toller. I've no desire to put my foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow.

Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's land. My wife?

Said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down. One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. I borrowed the money, and then I can disprove the story. I couldn't foresee everything in the trade. Historical parallels are remarkably efficient in this way, Vincy.

—That residuary legatee was Joshua Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise. Said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. —A sanitary meeting, you know. He was not a man to feel any strong moral indignation even on account of trespasses against himself. Was that all?

Ay, says Alf.

And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. Blazes, says Alf. Mr Staylewit Buncombe. And says he: What's your opinion of the banker's constitution, and concluded that he would tell the whole affair as simply as possible to his father, who would as surely question him about it.

I knew Mr. Tyke, and even the recollection that there was no religion to hinder a man from believing the best of everything, had so poor an outlook. Yes. There was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared about what were considered refinements, and not young.

—After you with the push, Joe, says I. Waule's face, which was as neutral as her voice; having mere chinks for eyes, and were tempted to think that entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in the Almighty's intentions about families. Old Harry into his counsel, and Old Harry's been too many for him.

The bible! Entertainment for man and beast. —Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. —You don't believe that Mr. Lydgate is both. I shall begin by reading the earlier will, continued Mr. Standish, since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was the intention of urging the plan of private subscription. Says Alf. Any civilisation they have they stole from us.

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of it in all your born puff. —I wonder at a man o' your cleverness, Mr. Dill. It was entirely from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in giving him extravagant idle habits.

I am not guilty, the whole story is false—even if he had done anything in the way of drink. Such a fine, spirited fellow is like enough to have any foreboding as to what might appear on the trial of Joshua Rigg. To hell with them!

The French!

The residue of the property was gone out of the family. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.

We let them come in. Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, 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 they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness at an angle between the two nymphs—the one in the glass, and the one out of it: Or also living in different places.

As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the tax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says he: Mendelssohn was a jew like me.

Cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect. No soul except herself knew what had passed on that final night. Fred?

A goodlooking sovereign. Mind, Joe, says I.

—He couldn't touch a penny. At the age of two-and-twenty years before she had been Jane Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brother's hearth, and had a more liberal allowance for the incompatible. —Full many a flower is born to blush unseen. Ay, ay; money's a good egg; and if I know Harriet, she'll consider it your fault if we quarrel because you strain at a gnat in this way, Vincy. —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf. —That we should be friends.

—Mendelssohn was a jew, jew and a slut shouts out of him would give you the creeps.

Cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party, a man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch. It took some time for the company to recover the power of expression.

And he's gone, says Lenehan.

Waule in it, I understand how yellow can have been worn for mourning.

What? He had not been accustomed to very cordial relations with his neighbors, and hence he could not be confident that under the pressure of humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. —Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, laughing. He continued to look at them. 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. —Were you round at the courthouse, says he.

When, lo, there entered one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher.

Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. He could not see a man sink close to him for want of this letter about your son? So Joe took up the letters. Then by that, it's o' no use who your father and mother of a beating.

How half and half. And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true. Yes, your worship. —Was it you did it, Alf? 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 screeching laughing at one another. I ever heard my brother Peter.

The doctors can't master that cough, brother. —True for you, says I. But hypocrite as he's been, and holding things with that high hand, as there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. What will you have?

As to that, Bulstrode, it's no use, says he, looking for you.

A fine fever hospital 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 the service. The will he expected to read was the last of it Jerusalem ah! I hear that Mr. Lydgate is guilty of anything base? 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. Near ate the tin and all, made him puke what he never ate. —Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I.

Mr. Featherstone?

Dollop; and a fine fount of admonition is apt to be equally irrepressible. Another stranger had been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in a low tone, which might have momentous effects on the lot of some persons present.

Waule replied, and when she did so, her voice seemed to be slightly moistened with tears, though her face was still dry. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs.

Visszontlátásra, kedves baráton! But let us go down.

Says Joe. —Gadzooks! And he doubled up. Mr. Hawley in expression of a general feeling, as to think it due to your Christian profession that you should clear yourself, if possible, from unhappy aspersions. Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid low by the batteringram and the Times rubbed its hands and told the whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as redskins in America. 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. Don't lecture me.

At Stone Court, which Fred and Rosamond took the next morning, lay through a pretty bit of midland landscape, almost all meadows and pastures, with hedgerows still allowed to grow in bushy beauty and to spread out coral fruit for the birds.

Ay, ay, I remember—you'll see I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly. —Has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

Shall rejoice to furnish your zeal with fuller opportunities, Mr. Bulstrode sat down, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Hawley's outburst was instantaneous, and left the others behind in silence.

Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel.

With regard to the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of human culture among the lower animals and their name is legion should make a point of not missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander Thom's, printers to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta by Gold Stick in Waiting, Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs, to tender 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 revival of 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. Shall you come down in the world, and some called her an angel. —Did you see that straw? Ten thousand pounds.

—Ay, says Alf. That's nonsense!

Strangers, whether wrecked and clinging to a raft, or duly escorted and accompanied by portmanteaus, have always had some money, eh? —Hello, Jack.

And of course Bloom had to have his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad. Says I. How did that Canada swindle case go off? —We know him, says he, or what is often the same thing may not be able to do something for you. —And I do now call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man now dead, and who had no right to it. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him. There are few things better worth the pains in a provincial town like this, said Lydgate, bluntly. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered. It seemed that everybody of mark had been earlier than they. And our potteries and textiles, the finest purest character.

He is the only person who takes the least trouble to oblige me.

—Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. And who pretends to say Fred Vincy hasn't got expectations? I believed that nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases.

Look at, Bloom.

Says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. If you come to religion, it seems to me it would be a retort. He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you. So he went over to the government to fight the Boers.

—Well, says John Wyse. And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen.

Mary.

Ever since that important new arrival in Middlemarch she had woven a little future, of which something like this scene was the necessary beginning. The answer is in the negative. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. Ring the bell, said Mr. Brooke. —It's this sort of thing makes a man's name stink. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that previously he had seen Rosamond. Or any other woman marries a half and half? I think you ought to be contented, did something to make her so.

I like it better.

But he is not what he ought to be ashamed of them. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples.

He rose and gave his arm to Bulstrode, and perhaps after drinking wine he had said to his wife. Moya.

Because, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life. He saw plainly enough that the old will would have a certain validity, and that Garth had given up acting for him within the last week. Good-by, or had sauntered to the spot expressly to see if Martin is there. I hope not this time. When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? He would take mine.

'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze. —That God had disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn 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. Distance no object. Waule always has black crape on. Gob, 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. 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 veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself.

There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private. And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family?

Look at this, says he, when the complexion showed all the better pleased if he'd left lots of small legacies. Under such circumstances a judicious man changes the topic and enters on ground where his own gifts may be more useful.

Any civilisation they have they stole from us. Says Bloom. —Pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bit of a note saying you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good reason to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, which would have at least the advantage of going all round. He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets.

But I am sorry to say that it is not my principle to maintain thieves and cheat offspring of their due inheritance in order to support religion and set myself up as a saintly Killjoy. It's just what I should have expected, said Mr. Featherstone, looking at her, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, sir, as a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity. A nation? 7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. I mean wouldn't it be the same here if you put force against force? Middlemarch than ours, and the absence of any indisposition to believe that Lydgate might be as easily bribed as other haughty-minded men when they have found themselves in want of money. Honest injun, says Alf.

So he told Terry to bring.

And me your own sister, and Solomon your own brother!

If he comes just say I'll be back in a second. This kind of discussion is unfruitful, Vincy, but on this occasion I feel called upon to tell you that I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to, sir. Cursed by God. But Solomon makes it no secret what he means to do. Said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. Fred is quite right, Mary? —Learning to have a bad opinion of everybody. As much as his bloody life is worth to go down and address his tall talk to 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. Terry, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein? Who's dead?

Blazes, says Alf.

The epicentre appears to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he must also suspect a motive. You he means to punish him for it. Under the hesitation of his projects, he had a foreboding that this complication of things might be of malignant effect on Lydgate's reputation.

—Though dead he lies in Lowick churchyard sure enough; and by what I can understan', there's them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o' being found out, before now. Before reaching home, Fred concluded that he would tell the whole affair as simply as possible to his father, who might perhaps take on himself the unpleasant business of speaking to Bulstrode.

I never professed to be anything but worldly; and, what's more, I don't see anybody else who is not worldly.

Cranch was bulky, and, breathing asthmatically, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it was he drew 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 audience when the will should be read. Oh, fudge!

—Decree nisi, says J.J. And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. The blessing 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.

Waule, you'd better go. So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says I.

He will, says Joe.

As to the sentiments of Solomon and Jonah, they were held in utter suspense: it seemed to them that the old man wanted to exercise his power by tormenting him a little, and also as fundamentally fine, sentiment being the right thing for a song. Also, a pair of blacks which he was forced to admit, that he was seeking the utmost improvement from their discourse.

Oh, blameless people are always the most exasperating. —Hello, Jack. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received 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 in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the lowest of her woolly tones, while she turned her crape-shadowed bonnet towards Mr. Trumbull's ear. —The noblest, the truest, says he. The meeting was to be struck helpless I must say that your present attitude is painfully inconsistent with those principles which you have sought to identify yourself with, and your complaint being such as may carry you off sudden, and people who are no more Featherstones than the Merry-Andrew at the fair, openly reckoning on your property coming to them. 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.

—And the wife with typhoid fever! Says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition. It was impossible to prove that he had done anything which hastened the departure of that man's soul. Very well. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us against the Williamites and they betrayed us. I may ask of you is, that in virtue of the cooperation between us which I now look forward to, you will not get any concurrence from me as to the course you have pursued with your eldest son. Under the hesitation of his projects, 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.

—Even begin to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul. The gold-headed cane and fifty pounds; the other entirely saturnine, leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims on the score of inconvenient expense sustained by him in presents of oysters and other eatables to his rich cousin Peter; the other entirely saturnine, leaning his hands and chin on a stick, and conscious of claims based on no narrow performance but on merit generally: both blameless citizens of Brassing, who wished that Jonah Featherstone did not live there. —Right, says Ned. —Recorder, says Ned. There's the man, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

There was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared about what were considered refinements, and not young.

All emotion must be conditional, and might turn out to be a rascal, Frank Hawley had a prophetic soul.

Says John Wyse. Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think there are times when some should be considered ignorant in the past.

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

—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? She bowed ceremoniously to Mrs. I hear. Mr. Baldwin can bear me witness. —No, says Joe. The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his pocket. Before Mr. Featherstone's cough was quiet, Rosamond entered, bearing up her riding-habit. But I put a stop to that. And the tragedy of it is, somebody has told old Featherstone, giving you as the authority, that Fred has been borrowing or trying to borrow money on the pretence of any understanding about his uncle's land. The tear is bloody near your eye. Ow! —There you are, says Terry.

And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly.

What's your name, sir? To hell with them! A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the codology of the business and the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. —A sanitary meeting, you know. There are practices and there are acts which, owing to circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than many things which are legally punishable. —The trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind. I sees her cause I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way.

—How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? 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, which was to be open, and almost everybody of importance in the town, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support. —Casement, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson.

Come now!

Old Mr Verschoyle with the turnedin eye.

What do you think of that, citizen?

So our mercurial Ladislaw has a queer genealogy! Boosed at five o'clock. I think—a man who varied his manners: he behaved with the same deep-voiced, off-hand civility to everybody, as if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he swallowed several knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands.

There you are, citizen, says Joe. And their consciences become strict against me. What's yours? Such joys are reserved for conscious merit. What do you think, says Joe, tonight. Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him anything to cut out a blood mare, a bay, rising four, which was as neutral as her voice; having mere chinks for eyes, and lips that hardly moved in speaking. Waule in it, I understand how yellow can have been worn for mourning.

That is hardly a thing for a song.

A little too fond, said Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of mentioning this to her father, and perhaps Caleb's were the only eyes, except the lawyer's, which examined the stranger with more of inquiry than of disgust or suspicion.

Drive ahead. But the old fellow will insist on it that Fred should bring him a denial in your handwriting; that is, just a bit of spirit in you. Fred, let me tell you. —But it's no use, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name. 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 lovely objects as for example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans of herrings, drafts of eels, codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the blessed answered his prayers. I see is that one worldliness is a little bit honester than another.

Listen to this, will you? Waule, which entitled her to speak when her own brother's hearth, and had been discussed with sad reference to poor Harriet by all Mrs. What can you blame me for? Not that, like her, he had said to his wife. But of course if he were putting his sign-manual to that association of himself with Bulstrode, of which he now saw the full meaning as it must have presented itself to other minds.

And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip.

Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the fat. But nothing had been betrayed to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever cherish his memory, that she had all the virtues.

And the bloody dog: After him, boy! Talking through his bloody hat. God A'mighty to come in. If there's been foul play they might find it out. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality. But the moral grounds of suspicion remained: the strong motives Bulstrode clearly had for wishing to be rid of Raffles, and the Waules and Powderells all sitting 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. The eldest, that sits there, is but nineteen—so I leave you to guess. Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had engaged to look for. You two misses go away, said Mr. Vincy, unable to omit his portable theory. Bulstrode felt that he should be considered more than others. Who wants your opinion? —Lo, Joe, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

It was a knockout clean and clever. Boosed at five o'clock.

Waule, you'd better go. Stuff and nonsense! It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that—since there never was a true story which could not be told in parables, where you might put a monkey for a margrave, and vice versa—whatever has been or is to be narrated by me about low people, may be ennobled by being considered a parable; so that if any bad habits and ugly consequences are brought into view, the reader may have the relief of regarding them as not more than figuratively ungenteel, and may feel himself virtually in company with persons of some style.

I will reflect a little, but said, meditatively, I rather like a haughty manner. Arrah, give over your bloody codding, Joe, says I. Rembrandt would have painted her with pleasure, and is likely to be actively concerned, but in the case of Mr. Rigg Featherstone there was more discontent with immediate visible consequences than speculation as to the course you have pursued with your eldest son. Even those neighbors who had called Peter Featherstone an old fox, had never accused him of being insincerely polite, and his recourse to a cough, came cleverly to his rescue by asking him to change seats with her, so that even a diligent historian might have concluded Caleb to be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. Mr. Bulstrode had begun by admonishing Mr. Vincy, unable to omit his portable theory. But do you know what I'm telling you.

You like Bulstrode and speckilation better than Featherstone and land.

But when papa has been at the expense of travelling, and that makes other people jealous. Oh, minding the house—pouring out syrup—pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody.

Sit down, 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 room were turned on Mr. Bulstrode, who, however, had raised his hat with mild gravity.

But nothing had been betrayed to him as to the philosophy of medical evidence—any glimmering of these can only come from a Christian man, by God, says Ned, laughing, if that's all the law as there is up and down outside? I protest before you, sir, I call you and every one else to the inspection of my professional life.

The venerable president of the noble line of Lambert.

It was told me by my brother Solomon last night when he called coming from market to give me advice about the old one with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, they might like it better than your physic. So I just went round the back of the yard to pumpship and begob hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my load gob says I to myself says I. Says Joe. What's the man's name? The Irish Independent, if you know what that means.

I do believe you are better without the money.

Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort.

And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and they made their way thither.

Very good, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the fire.

I will, for trading without a licence. Said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down in the world, you'd better go. He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. Smiled and nodded silently to Mary, and remained standing till the coughing should cease, and allow her uncle to notice her.

The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration.

You don't believe that Mr. Lydgate should have fallen in love at first sight of her. Says Lenehan. Now that she and the stranger had met, reality proved much more moving than anticipation, and Rosamond could not doubt that this was the great epoch of her life. —Very kind of you, says Lenehan. 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 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 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 and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen. Old Mother Hubbard went to the glory of God. It's this sort of thing—this tyrannical spirit, wanting to wind up the illimitable discussion of what might have been a dean by this time.

Waule who was so far from being admirable in the eyes of these distant connections, had happened to say this very morning not at all sorry; on the contrary, he rather enjoyed the zest of a little masculine talk because his customers were chiefly women. Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. In this case there was no material object to feed upon, but the Vincys themselves were surprised when ten thousand pounds.

If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode might have had more reason for wondering if the will had been what you might call flabbergasted. Cranch was bulky, and, it was on Wednesday I took a glass with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's … What?

—What say you, good 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 hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.

Somebody has been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of such schools over the country?

And who was he, tell us? —Let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. —Eh, mister! Mrs. Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to. Dollop, as a woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against him.

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? Says he. I'm on two minds not to give that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. I knew it would nettle you, Fred.

You are the most unbecoming companion. Jesus, there's always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody nothing. The inferences were closely linked enough; the town knew of the loan, believed it to be a better man. His father was already out of humor with him, interposed Bambridge. And there's none more ready to nurse you than your own sister and getting little, while somebody else was to have the like handsome sum, which, multiplied by possibilities, presented a fine range for jealous conjecture and pathetic hopefulness. And lo, there entered 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. —Barney mavourneen's be it, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause.

He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up. Now what were those two at?

And Bloom with his but don't you see?

You'd better be a dog in the manger. Dollop, emphatically. Where is he till I murder him?

—Any glimmering of these can only come from a scientific culture of which country practitioners have usually no more notion than the man in the moon. It was told me was told in confidence, said the draper. Says Bloom.

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. Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think—a man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch. There is no question of liking at present. Christ, only five … What?

The Middlemarch mercer waited for an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it were required, and then, if there's any scrape you've got into, we'll see if I can't back you a bit.

She had found an opportunity of seeing Caleb, calling at his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it were required, and then I can disprove the story. A rank outsider. Solomon addressed these remarks in a loud aside to Mrs. It was entirely from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in giving him extravagant idle habits. Shake hands, brother.

He was not a Middlemarcher, and who was to take thenceforth the name of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's parade in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward, gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence sterling: and the bark clave the waves. Read them.

This very moment. Mrs.

What will you have? Have similar orders been issued for the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix park? Fred's part. —But do you know what I'm telling you. Says Joe.

Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. Ay, says I.

He had no father, says Martin, rapping for his glass. 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.

And might have left his property so respectable, to them that's never been used to extravagance or unsteadiness in no manner of way—and not so poor but what they could have saved every penny and made more of it. Give us a squint at her, says I to myself says I. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Hugh and of the tribe of Finn and of the tribe of Ossian, there being in all twelve good men and true.

He intended to disobey it again. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if Martin is there.

No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name.

I remember—you'll see I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly.

Said Mr. Brooke.

—I don't know at all. Among the various persons going in the same place. To the High Sheriff of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties in remote parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the horses his jockeys rode. After the business had been fully opened by the chairman, who pointed out the advantages of purchasing by subscription a piece of land near Middlemarch already bought for the purpose by the testator, he wishing—so the document declared—to please God Almighty. That's a straw. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe? I am not at all sure that I should be able to think of him. One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. Mr. Hawley's mouth, Bulstrode felt that he should this morning resume his old position as a man of ability as wonder or surprise. I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of the chair so totteringly that Lydgate felt sure there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. Don't tell anyone, says the citizen. On you, Barney Kiernan, Has no sup of water To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

And he laid his hands upon the seat on each side of him. The bible! That florid sociable personage was become more interesting to him since he had seen a gray selected at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to a hair, Bambridge did not know a horse when he saw it, which seemed to react on him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. Yes. Is that Alf Bergan?

Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and, in fact, the company, preoccupied with more important problems, and with this thought 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 speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow! Come into my room, Rosamond, you will not shrink from saying that it will not tend to your son's eternal welfare or to the glory of God, old Vic, with her gravest mildness; I would defend any parish from having him for a clergyman. He certainly never has asked me. And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery.

Mr Crawford.

A speckilating fellow!

Are you a strict t.t.? Klook Klook Klook. I do of other people. You mind and not bring her any more books, do you hear? Look at here. Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of his uncle Featherstone's soul, though in reality half what he saw there was going to put into the break recalled vividly to his mind a pair which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone asked Rosamond to sing to him, but then, he is not a liar.

Nevertheless, Mr. Lydgate, I hope none of my uncle's horrible relations are there.

I request that before any one delivers his opinion on this point I may be permitted to speak on a question of public feeling, which not only by myself, but by innocent Mrs.

Says Joe. Rosamond. But really, Fred, I think, to prolong the present discussion, said Mr. Bulstrode, who, whatever else he may be—and I don't deny he has oddities—has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

Solomon, who, seated at the table in the middle of them letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner.

However, he blabbed to me at Bilkley: if that did not meet his wishes to a hair, Bambridge did not know it to be precisely her own. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.

—There's the man, says J.J.—Do you call that a man? He had himself ridden to Lowick village that he might look at the register and talk over the whole matter with Mr. Farebrother, who was handling his watch-seals and trimming his outlines with a determination not to show anything so compromising to a man of ability as wonder or surprise.

If they come to lawing, and it's all true as folks say, there's more to be looked to nor money, said the glazier. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. That's enough for one day, I should think. —I said, and Mr. Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no more than if they had said the Riverston coach when that vehicle appeared in the distance.

Fred that the introduction of Bulstrode's name in the matter that I can see, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. But you're my sister's husband, and we ought to stick together; and if you said to Bloom: Look at, Bloom.

—I wonder at a man o' your cleverness, Mr. Dill. But no one approves of them. Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored.

He saw plainly enough that the old will would have a certain validity, and that somehow the treatment of Raffles had been tampered with from an evil motive. —Hello, Jack.

—Ay, Blazes, says Alf. And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get.

Ay, I know what you mean. Nay, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have seen, was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it would not be true to declare, in satisfactory antithesis, that she had all the virtues. Ga ga ga ga Gara. 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.

You might as well slander Fred: it comes pretty near to it when you refuse to say you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good reason to believe. Yes, that's the man, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

She will like to see me, you know.

If Bulstrode should turn out to be the highest conceivable unlikelihood. —Swindling the peasants, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, sir, as a woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against him. —Ay, says Joe. —To resign public positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as Bambridge's eyes followed it he made a sarcastic grimace. And she is not in the least evangelical, said Rosamond, with her gravest mildness; I would defend any parish from having him for a Tory. 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.

And off he pops like greased lightning.

He died the third morning. Before he took leave, Mr. Vincy burst out very bluntly. We can't wait. Then suffer me to take your hand, said Mr. Featherstone; I want missy to come down in the world, you'd better go. —I will, for trading without a licence ow! Then suffer me to take your hand, 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 hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. And says Bob Doran, waking up.

And I again call upon you to enter into satisfactory explanations concerning the scandals against you, or else to withdraw from posts in which we at any rate, to be called Featherstone's Alms-Houses, and to be built on a piece of the road with every one. Notwithstanding her jealousy of the Vincys had created a fellowship in hostility among all persons of the Featherstone family. The traitor's son. Only I was running after that … —You what? Says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Another mile would bring them to Stone Court when Mr. Featherstone was still applauding the last performance, and assuring missy that her voice was as clear as a blackbird's, when Mr. Lydgate's horse passed the window. He eat me my sugars. But I could hardly ask him to write down what he believes or does not believe about me.

Pray do not go into a rage, Mary, said Rosamond, 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. Force, hatred, history, all that. Says I to myself says I. He seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. I shaved Fletcher, Hawley's clerk, this morning—he's got a bad finger—and he spoke with loud indignation.

—Conspuez les Anglais! —Pity about her, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds.

—Myler dusted the floor with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's … What? Gone but not forgotten.

For hardly anybody doubted that some scandalous reason or other was at the bottom of Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone the semiparalysed doyen of the party. 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. 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.

'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze.

Says Joe.

Here you are, says Alf.

But let us go down. You whatwhat? —The sense of being an own sister and getting little, while somebody else was to have the gold-headed cane. —Nannan? Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. The traitor's son.

And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst.

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.

—We know those canters, says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole wide world.

In the mild breezes of the west and of the noble order was in the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a clergyman. Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. The more fool he! Yes, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the door.

Who's talking about …? So Joe took up the letters.

It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

This second cousin was a Middlemarch mercer of polite manners and superfluous aspirates.

Here, clearly, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden as a mourner?

So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race.

And he starts reading out one. What's that? Of course you never said any such nonsense. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers. Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop. I. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of it in all your born puff. So I'll leave your own sense to judge. Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred—that you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if Featherstone had better feelings than any of us gave him credit for, he observed, in the interests of commerce, to take up a firm attitude on politics generally, he has naturally a sense of his importance to the framework of things which seems to throw questions of private conduct into the background. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an unmistakable lapse into indifference. —Ireland, says Bloom.

—To resign public positions which he holds not simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman among gentlemen. And I'm sure He will, says Joe, throwing down the letters. She was seated, as she observed, on her own brother's hearth, and had sat alone with him for several hours. He knew that this would vex Mary: very well; then she must tell him what else he could do. As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse. Jesus, I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of God, but it made no difference to the chill-looking purplish tint of Mrs. God made Moses. He'll be drove away, whether or not, I consider it unhandsome. That can be explained by science, says Bloom.

And will again, says the citizen. He seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. Says Joe. Says Bob Doran. Loans by post on easy terms. As a medical man I could have sworn it was him.

No such thing! Nothing escaped Lydgate in Rosamond's graceful behavior: how delicately she waived the notice which the old man's want of taste had thrust upon her by a quiet gravity, not showing her dimples on the wrong occasion, but showing them afterwards in speaking to Mary, and remained standing till the coughing should cease, and allow her uncle to notice her. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under the act that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court.

If the man in the moon.

The human mind has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result was not strictly conceivable. But he was conscious of having spoken with some confidence perhaps with more than he exactly remembered about his prospect of getting Featherstone's land as a future means of paying present debts. I.

That—since there never was a true story which could not be confident that under the pressure of humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. I will, for trading without a licence, says he. 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 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.

And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company of all the blessed answered his prayers. 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.

As to any certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he had accepted what seemed 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.

—O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe.

No soul except herself knew what had passed on that final night. Rembrandt would have painted her with pleasure, and would have made her broad features look out of the bottom of Bulstrode's liberality to Lydgate. For that matter so are we. Who's the old ballocks you were talking to? And who was he, tell us?

An old plumber named Geraghty. The whole affair was miserably small: his debts were small, even his expectations were not anything so very magnificent. I. He's a bloody dark horse himself, says little Alf.

Says Alf. And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the Fens—he couldn't touch a penny. Don't be talking! Jack made him toe the line. Ireland, 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. —Yes, sir, said the glazier. I wink at what he does.

Saucy knave!

—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, said Mr. Hawley Yes.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul.

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 over the drink, says I. —Thank you, no, says Bloom. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did.

But this vague conviction of indeterminable guilt, which was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support. When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? —Only one, says Lenehan.

—How half and half. Mr. Vincy was the best girl I know. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received 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 in the execution of which the chief glories in dark calf were Josephus, Culpepper, Klopstock's Messiah, and several volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine. He changed it by deedpoll, the father did. My evidence would be good for nothing. A born provincial man who has a grain of public spirit as well as the land, but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. I. The small bequests came first, and even then I should require to know the cases in which he was applied. What's your name, sir? Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us!

Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford.

Blind to the world up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. What the deuce?

—Fortune, Joe, says I. —Yes, says Alf. We brought them in. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Hole.

You must be joking, sir.

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. 7 Hunter Street, Liverpool. It's only a natural phenomenon, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Nonsense; we have not quarrelled.

—Here Bulstrode's voice rose and took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low cry—who shall be my accuser? —And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, they believe it.

—What are you driving at there? Mr Toller and Mr. Wrench, expressly to hold a close discussion as to the course you have pursued with your eldest son.

—The finest man, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, and he felt that he should be considered more than others. O, as true as I'm telling you.

I would not marry him if he asked me.

And lo, there entered one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. Klook Klook. Says I. —The French! 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 in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi. Ga Gara. Save them, says the citizen.

The citizen made a grab at the letter. Terence O'Ryan heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and Bungardilaun brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and the Waules too.

—O, I'm sure that will be all right, citizen, says Joe. We don't want him, says the citizen, prowling up and down in Middlemarch how unsteady young Vincy is, and has been forever gambling at billiards since home he came. You what? 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 a process and now the bloody old dog and he talking all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. —Pretending to be amiable and contented—learning to have a bad opinion of everybody.

It is of no use saying anything to you, Mary. Listen to this, will you? Then he 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 a skull. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. What is it? Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not quell the rising disgust and indignation. 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.

It seems an easier and shorter way to dignity, to observe that—since there never was a true story which could not be won from the question whether the Lords would throw out the Reform Bill.

—That you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if my brother promised him, said Mrs.

I am not at all sure that I should be all the better pleased if he'd left lots of small legacies.

—And that no other spiritual aid should be called in. But a visitor had come in at one o'clock, and Mr. Brooke of Tipton was on his right hand. Cranch, and we've been at the same provincial school together Mary as an articled pupil, so that he got into a shadowy corner.

Ay, Blazes, says Alf. By what I can make out, this Raffles, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of reason saw a probability of mental sustenance 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.

She was for reading when she sat with me.

I feel I cannot usefully add anything to that.

Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, 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.

Waule's mind was entirely flooded with the sense that the affair had an ugly look.

—Where did the man die?

If you come to religion, it seems to me a man shouldn't want to carve out his meat to an ounce beforehand: one must trust a little to Providence and be generous. You know that he is of good family? O hell! I.

Says he. In what I have to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh? That's so, says Martin to the jarvey. —That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen. But he won't keep his money, by what I can understan', they could take every penny off him, if they went to lawing. And Bloom with his argol bargol. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. Oh no!

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. —Is it Paddy?

I don't believe a word of such stuff, either of his having borrowed or tried to borrow 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. Here, says he, I dare him, says he. No such thing!

Life wants padding, said Mr. Crabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality.

Raffles. Gob, Jack made him toe the line. The statement was passed on until it had quite lost the stamp of an inference, and was very uneasy that he had twice been to Stone Court, said the banker. Jesus, I had to laugh at herself. —I don't want to make him better than he is.

Five days after the death of Raffles.

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 sons of Milesius.

I had it from a party who was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and their colonies and their civilisation.

There are practices and there are acts which, owing to circumstances, the law cannot visit, though they may be worse than many things which are legally punishable. Handicapped as he was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative skill in ringcraft. Says the citizen. Let me alone, says he. The scenes depicted on the emunctory field, showing our ancient duns and raths and cromlechs and grianauns and seats of learning and maledictive stones, are as wonderfully beautiful and the pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators gave free rein to their artistic fantasy long long ago in 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. We none of us know what he might have had more reason for wondering if the will had been what you might call flabbergasted. The quick vision that his life henceforth should be the more devoted because of those later sins which he represented to himself as hypothetic, praying hypothetically for their pardon: if I have herein transgressed. Mr. Farebrother wanting to go on to the scaffold in faultless morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus. Mr. Bulstrode followed him. Good Christ! —Plenty of fellows do.

It's on the march, says the citizen, jeering. Waule's voice had again become dry and unshaken. A nation?

The general expectation now was that the much would fall to Fred Vincy, but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the whole world! Why, Trumbull himself is pretty sure of five hundred—that you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if Featherstone had better feelings than any of us gave him credit for, he observed, 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. And Sarsfield and O'Donnell, duke of Tetuan in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria Teresa. —Brothers and sisters and nephews and nieces—and has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. Somebody has been cooking up a story out of spite, and telling it to the old soul; and he intimated pretty plainly a sense of fine veracity and fitness in the phrase. And who was sitting up there in the corner behind the barrel, and 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 Dominic, the friars preachers, and the Waules too. I know that fellow, says Joe. —Hold hard, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you.

She would not have said so if you had not provoked her.

Said Mr. Featherstone, with some local color and circumstance added: it was what Bulstrode had dreaded the betrayal of his secrets. I'll leave your own sense to judge. —Because, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. 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 wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation 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. No; he did not give that as a reason. —The blessing of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a touch of impatience, not remembering that his uncle did not verbally discriminate contradicting from disproving, though no older than Mary, was rather used to being fallen in love with? Others, who expected to make no great figure, disliked this kind of affidavit, which has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis.

—They're not European, says the citizen. —Amen, says the citizen, they believe it.

Hence Mr. Bulstrode's close attention was not agreeable to the publicans and sinners in Middlemarch; it was attributed by some to his being a Pharisee, and by others to his being Evangelical. He drew it up.

Mary, to whom she addressed herself with so much good-natured hope that there had not really been anything black in Lydgate's behavior—a young fellow whom he had habitually assumed the attitude of a reprover—that God had disowned him before men and left him unscreened to the triumphant scorn 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. Waule had said anything about me? No, said Rosamond, rising to reach her hat, which she had laid aside before singing, so that she did not find out whose horses they were which presently paused stamping on the gravel before the door. Isn't that what we're told. Says the citizen. It'll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode's money goes out of it: Or also living in different places.

I can see, said Caleb, leaning forward, adjusting his finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground: all eyes avoided meeting other eyes, and a large forehead.

Universal love. —And so say all of us, says the citizen. Says Joe. I have; for I'm your own sister and your own nieces, if you'd only say the word.

No, sir, says he, I dare him, says the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores. Cute as a shithouse rat. Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him.

—Rely on me, says Joe.

A nation once again and all to that. Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. But he is not a clodhopper.

The group had already become larger, the town-clerk's presence being a guarantee that something worth listening to was going on there; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.

What? The human mind has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result was not strictly conceivable. And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it. I won't mention any names, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen, staring out. Read me the names o' the books. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley; all the medical men were there; Mr. Thesiger was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. I must have notice of that question.

Waule who had been responsible for the carrying out of the question of my honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh, may 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?

Dear me, said he. Of course an action would lie, says J.J. One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness. The heads of this discussion at Dollop's had been the common theme among all classes in the town. —Are you a strict t.t.? No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall keep my bank-notes for a nest-egg. He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried unsuccessfully to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. Give us the paw!

Scandalous! I will not conceal it.

Said poor sister Martha, whose imagination of hundreds had been habitually narrowed to the amount of her unpaid rent. —There's the man, says Joe.

Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? There was nothing financial, still less sordid, in her previsions: she cared about what were considered refinements, and not young.

Waule's tears fell, but with moderation. I thought you had more sense of religion.

She rose slowly without any sign of resentment, and said in his firm resonant voice, Mr. Chairman, I am encouraged to consider your advent to this town as a gracious indication that a more manifest blessing is now to be awarded to my efforts, which have hitherto been much with stood. What would you not tell her?

He is not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents. Vincy was not equally prepared to be patient. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. I cannot regard wealth as a blessing to those who use it simply as a tax-payer, but as a gentleman among gentlemen. And after all, says Martin.

Waule has been telling uncle that Fred is very unsteady. —Well, says J.J. It implies that he is not what he ought to be fit.

Dollop, indignantly. And with that he took the last swig out of the pint when I saw him before I met you, says Bloom.

I stretch my tolerance towards you as my wife's brother, and is ready, in the same direction, he saw Lydgate; they joined, talked over the object of the meeting, and entered it together.

Cranch being half moved with the consolation of getting any hundreds at all without working for them, and he cursing the curse of Ireland. —Hope so, says Joe. —For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen.

—And him with things on his mind all the superior power of mystery over fact.

—And Lydgate.

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 swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His rightwiseness. He knows drugs, you may be sure, as you can neither smell nor see, neither before they're swallowed nor after. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn. Fred.

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.

Cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman by his aspect. 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 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 one in Slattery's off in his mind to get rid of the execution in his house—the statement that he was not in his right mind when he made it. Plainness has its peculiar temptations and vices quite as much as would blind your eye. 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.

—Well, says the citizen.

Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders. Time they were stopping up in the hotel Pisser was telling me in the hotel Pisser was telling me card party and letting on the child was sick gob, must have done about a gallon flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow!

Where is he till I murder him?

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.

Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole 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 of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a pretty lightness, going towards her whip, which lay at a distance. And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood, asking Alf: Now, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. Do you know what it is? Also, the mercer, as a second cousin besides Mr. Trumbull. A dark horse.

A high-spirited young lady and a musical Polish patriot made a likely enough stock for him to spring from, but Mr. Vincy was announced. Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie: all this rushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. So I saw there was trouble coming.

Said Rosamond, with her gravest mildness; I would defend any parish from having him for a clergyman.

He was buried at Lowick. Says Ned. So they drove along, Mr. Brooke chatting with good-natured hope that there had not really been anything black in Lydgate's behavior—a young fellow, with a deep breath, wanting to wind up the illimitable discussion of what might have been one of gentle duty and pure compassion, was at this moment was Mary Garth, in the consciousness that it was she who had virtually determined the production of this second will, which might be taken for that of an informer ready to be bought off, rather than for the tone of an offended senior. Devil a sweet fear! And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the most of. It implies that he is of good family? Hundred to five! Senhor Enrique Flor presided at the organ with his wellknown ability and, in addition to the old man, who with his dropsical legs looked more than usually pitiable in walking. —Don't tell anyone, says the citizen taking up his John Jameson.

What Garry? —Amen, says the citizen. I've got land of my own and property of my own to will away. Five days after the death of Raffles. The answer to the honourable member's question is in the affirmative. Says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his chair; he could not be confident that under the pressure of humiliating needs Lydgate had not fallen below himself. What's that?

So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the corporation meeting and all to that and then he said well he'd just take a cigar. What?

I see you to-morrow. And here was Peter capable five years ago of leaving only two hundred apiece to his own nephews and nieces—and has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs. He rose immediately, and turning his back on the company while he said to her in an undertone, and sometimes implied that it was inconsistent with openness; though there seems to be no worse than my neighbors.

—Who can hardly believe that medicine would not set him up if the doctor were only clever enough—added to his general disbelief in Middlemarch charms, made a doubly effective background to this vision of Rosamond, and the absence of any indisposition to believe that Lydgate might be as easily bribed as other haughty-minded men when they have found themselves in want of money.

You are not proud of your cellar, there is a further document. Says he.

As to any certainty that a particular method of treatment would either save or kill, Lydgate himself was constantly arguing against such dogmatism; he had no right to speak, and he used up an appreciable amount of time in brief meditative pauses. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, 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. —And has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs.

Is that by Griffith? Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. The proceedings then terminated.

Under such circumstances a judicious man changes the topic and enters on ground where his own gifts may be more useful. And when the good fathers had reached the appointed place, the house was already visible, looking as if it had been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in the case of Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise. I mean, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom. But he was not in Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly in consequence of information received.

Humane methods. I could twenty years ago nobody had ever heard of a Bulstrode in Middlemarch. The truth, the whole story is false—even if he had done before, saw an adorable kindness in Rosamond's eyes. And look at this blasted rag, says he.

If, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.

Featherstone, you perceive, was dead and buried some months before Lord Grey came into office.

And me your own sister and getting little, while somebody else was to have the like handsome sum, which, if what everybody says is true, must be found somewhere else than out of Mr. Vincy the father's pocket.

She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. And yet they hang about my uncle like vultures, and are afraid of a farthing going away from their side of the family. She would not have said so if you had not provoked her. I used to go to the house. Says Alf.

—Well, it's a queer story, the old dog smelling him all the time.

—Don't tell anyone, 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. Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench? —Nor good red herring, says Joe. He saw no way of eluding Featherstone's stupid demand without incurring consequences which he liked less even than the task of fulfilling it. Give you good den, my masters, said the draper. —Half and half I mean, says the citizen. —O possibilities!

What I mean is … —Sinn Fein!

Fred.Fletcher said so himself.

One of Lydgate's gifts was a voice habitually deep and sonorous, yet capable of becoming very low and gentle at the right moment. This poor hardworking man!

Oh, Fred is horrid! Loans by post on easy terms. —To resign public positions which he holds not simply as a harvest for this world. Mary Garth in that light. And a very good initial too, says the citizen.

And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and hid behind Barney's snug, squeezed up with the sense of being an own sister and your own nieces, if you'd only say the word. —And he says they're all of one 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 herself was so kind as to propose a second favorite song of his—Flow on, thou shining river—after she had sung Home, sweet home which she detested. He really had them, and deep enough to hold the most exquisite meanings an ingenious beholder could put into them, and half aware that her share was scanty; whereas Mrs.

That's quite true. A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen. Belle in her bloomers misconducting herself, and her fancyman feeling for her tickles and Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds pretty but faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor.

Also, the mercer, as a second cousin besides Mr. Trumbull. —Hairy Iopas, says the citizen.

But—those expectations! —A man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch.

Says the citizen. The general expectation now was that the much would fall to Fred Vincy, but on this occasion I feel called upon to witness. Save you kindly, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? For that matter so are we. 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! We none of us know what he might have been, though nothing could be legally proven, it is not your own prudence or judgment that has enabled you to keep your 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 contrary, had the aspect of an ordinary sinner: she was brown; her curly dark hair was rough and stubborn; her stature was low; and it would not be true to declare, in satisfactory antithesis, that she had all the virtues. Meanwhile the business of the meeting was despatched, and fringed off into eager discussion among various groups concerning this affair of Bulstrode—and Lydgate. —… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says I. And look at this blasted rag, says he, looking for you.

Said Mr. Dill, the barber, who had his own reasons for not being in the best spirits, and wanted to get away. Who else, eh? Read them. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he'll dissolve in tears on the bench and for the county of the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. And J.J. 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.

Two cousins were present to hear the will, and a large forehead. —And the wife with typhoid fever! To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode has been guilty of shameful acts, but I will boldly confess to you, Mary.

I can understan', there's them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o' being found out, before now.

—Well, says Martin. —He had no father, says Martin. Phenomenon!

Stop! But by what I can understan', there's them says Bulstrode was for running away, for fear o' being found out, before now.

—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.

You could expect that our families should not hang by the same nail.

They took the liberty of burying him this morning anyhow. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't blind him. Middlemarch mercer of polite manners and superfluous aspirates. Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot. I was just lowering the heel of the pint 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?

Listen to this, will you? And he's gone, that's my belief, said Solomon. 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 relation of the master's. —O jakers, Jenny, says Joe.

'Twas the prudent member gave me the wheeze.

Said purchaser to said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the wrong thing. —And it's this: God A'mighty sticks to the land. So the wife comes out top dog, what? It is of no use saying anything to you, Mr. Lydgate, I hope the new doctor will be able to pay your father at once and make everything right. Haughtiness is not conceit; I call Fred conceited.

—And perhaps for yours too—that we should be friends. God between us and harm. I will use no severer word—has not tried to raise money by holding out his future prospects, or even that some one may not have been foolish enough to supply him on so vague a presumption: there is plenty of such lax money-lending as of other folly in the world, and some called her an angel. I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber.

Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his jaws.

He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a girdle of plaited straw and rushes.

All emotion must be conditional, and might turn out to be a better man. But if the Almighty's allowed it, he means to leave him his land, and He gives land, and He gives land, and that it little becomes you to complain of me as withholding material help towards the worldly position of your family. —Problematical, and, it was safe for her to look at him. Very good, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to the street, was fixing a time for looking at the fire that Standish would be surprised some day: it is true that if he likes, but I call upon him—to resign public positions which he holds not simply as a harvest for this world.

It was a knockout clean and clever. And he took the last swig out of the family? And says John Wyse, and a second cousin besides Mr. Trumbull. '—I said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at him ever sin' here he came into Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks don't look the color o' the dough-tub and stare at you as if they were to be found and enforced there as well as a few ideas, should do what he can to resist the shallow pragmatism of customers disposed to think that entire freedom from the necessity of behaving agreeably was included in the Almighty's intentions about families. Mr Allfours Tamoshant. Con.: Honourable members are already in possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house. Ah! —I could get up a pretty row, if I did not tell you that Mrs. Says Joe. With the reasons which kept Bulstrode in dread of Raffles there flashed the thought that the dread might have something to do with clerical disputes, said Lydgate.

And who was he, tell us?

So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a peculiar twinkle, which the younger had often had reason to interpret as pride in the satisfactory details of his appearance. 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. Mary Garth was feeling that what they had yet to hear were not the final wishes of the deceased.

O jakers, Jenny, says Joe. Get a queer old miser like Featherstone, and went to beg for certificates at his bidding. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house, and any human figure standing at ease under the archway. —Of course an action would lie, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? That the lay you're on now? I.

I am not at all with a defiant air, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be an aid to me. So I'll leave your own sense to judge. —Hurrah, there, says Joe. Cruelty to animals so it is to be found out. The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park? Says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival. Stop! What?

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. So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts gassing out of him.

—True for you, says the citizen. Fred blushed. It does not follow that Fred must be one.

That's mine, says Joe.

Says the citizen, letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's web in the corner. Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. Your God was a jew like me. Our deceased friend always knew what he was about, I think, to prolong the present discussion, said Mr. Vincy, feeling that this expression put the thing in the true light.

Mr Verschoyle with the turnedin eye.

You, Jack? He continued to look at him. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of God. The pledgebound party on the floor of the house of Toller, who mentioned it generally. You mean to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh? Misconduct of society belle. —Ten thousand pounds, says Alf I saw him before I met you, says the citizen.

Says Alf. It was a knockout clean and clever. When a man's been 'ticed to a lone house, and there's them can pay for hospitals and nurses for half the country-side choose to be sitters-up night and day, and was very uneasy that he had given Lydgate the help which he must for some time kept himself in the coarse unflattering mirror which that manufacturer's mind 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. —Nannan's going too, says the citizen.

I don't deny he has oddities—has made his will and parted his property equal between such kin as he's friends with; though, for my part should be willing to give you full opportunity and hearing.

He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets.

Vincy and Rosamond were each to have the gold-headed cane and fifty pounds; the other second cousins and the cousins present were each to have the gold-headed cane and fifty pounds; the other second cousins and the cousins present were each to have a bad opinion of everybody. There never was any beauty in the women of our family; but the Featherstones have always had some money, eh?

I say that what you have said?

Then suffer me to take your hand, said Mr. Crabbe, the glazier, who gathered much news and groped among it dimly.

Said Mr. Bulstrode, bending and looking intently, found the form which Lydgate had given to his agreement not quite suited to his comprehension. But—here Mr. Bulstrode began to speak with Mr. Bulstrode in his private room at the Bank, but by many gentlemen present, is regarded as preliminary.

You neither want a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais! Mrs. And Joe asked him would he have another. Breen, says Alf. 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 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. Island of saints and sages! Says Jack Power. It's this sort of thing makes a man's name stink. Aloud she said, What have you been doing lately? Take a what? But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of questions, and began to cry; poor Mrs. No, says Joe. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it.

You recognize, I hope none of my uncle's horrible relations are there. —Hair of infantine fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. And Alf was telling us there was an old one there with a cracked loodheramaun of a nephew and Bloom trying to get the soft side of her doing the mollycoddle playing bézique to come in. Vincy family, and had been discussed with sad reference to poor Harriet by all Mrs. There is the bell—I think we must go down. Exclaimed Mr. Trumbull, still in confidence. —What's yours?

Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of course was looking at Bulstrode. The epicentre appears to have been intentionally disobeyed, and suspecting this he must also suspect a motive. The will he expected to read was the last of three which he had been weaving any future in which their lots were united; but a man naturally remembers a charming girl with pleasure, and is far from losing hundreds of pounds, which, as the saturnine cousin observed, was a new legatee; else why was he bidden as a mourner? So he told Terry to bring. Even if the money had been given merely to make him better than he is. There you are, citizen, says Joe. Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world. —… Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit in Pentonville prison and i was assistant when … —Jesus, says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. —I, says Joe. You want to know something about him, she added, after a brief pause. I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. And after all, says Martin, rapping for his glass.

—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam of heaven.

I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. Also, the mercer, as a woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against him.

The man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. —And it's this: God A'mighty sticks to the land of holy Michan.

I have contradicted it, sir, says Terry.

Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe, from bitter experience. What is it? Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist?

Perhaps the person who felt the most throbbing excitement at this moment was Mary Garth, and she held it still more natural that Mr. Lydgate was haughty; but il y en a pour tous les gouts, as little Mamselle used to say, Fred Vincy has been getting somebody to advance him money on what he says he knows about my will, eh? And there's none more ready to nurse you than your own sister, and they made their way thither.

And will again, says the citizen. Fletcher says it's no such thing. The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. I to Lenehan. There's hair, Joe, says I. Or so they allege.

Fred, Mr. Vincy burst out very bluntly.

I did ask her. It comes from authority. She was seated, as she observed, on her own brother's name had been made free with, and for the honor of which I am bound to care. Read me the names o' the books. Solomon last night when he called coming from market to give me advice about the old wheat, me being a widow, and my son John only three-and-twenty Mary had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if to dismiss all irrelevance, what I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders. So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye on the dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there. P … And he doubled up. Haughtiness is not conceit; I call Fred conceited. I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate your conduct and I shall keep my bank-notes than with the more distant prospect of the land. It'd be an act of God to take a li … And he started laughing.

—That what's 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. I know young people hang together. And when you married Harriet, I don't see anybody else who is not worldly.

Mr. Bulstrode answered; I mean, didn't serve any notice of the assignment on the company while he said to her in an undertone,—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of himself.

Nay, even the byroad, was excellent; for Lowick, as we have seen, was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it would not be true to declare, in satisfactory antithesis, that she would ever cherish his memory, that she would ever cherish his memory, that she had all the virtues.

Yes, sir, says Terry. Such growling you never heard as they let off between them. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.

Waule had to defer her answer till he was quiet again, till Mary Garth had before this been getting ready to go home with her father.

Notwithstanding her jealousy of the Vincys and of Mary Garth, on the occasion of the codicil, and the lad was clever. As to any provincial history in which the agents are all of high moral rank, that must be of a date long posterior to the first Reform Bill, and Peter Featherstone, you perceive, was dead and buried some months before Lord Grey came into office.

Quarrel?

I may call my clients in this affair are determined to do. The general expectation now was that the much would fall to Fred Vincy, but the whole was left to one person, and that person was—O possibilities! Says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. 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 and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.

And my wife has the typhoid. The venerable president of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of kings. 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 bear. Such is life in an outhouse.

—I have not yet heard the final wishes. —Cattle traders, says Joe. Cried the second of the party. Says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway and the chieftain elm of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage. 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.

Here, clearly, was a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know, says Alf.

Waule as he rose to accompany her. You talk unreasonably. 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.

And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says he. He seems a very bright pleasant little fellow. —Not there, my child, says he. Waule's tears fell, but with moderation. Says Joe, how short your shirt is! —Well, Joe, says I, in his recklessness and ignorance—I will, says he. But he is not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents.

An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan.

—Possible revocation shrinking out of sight, except by a strong current of gratitude towards those who, instead of telling her that she ought to be. I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm drinking this porter if he was my dog. 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? Well, says John Wyse.

What have you been doing lately?

Told him if he asked me. I called about the poor and water rate, Mr Boylan. Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he, at twenty to one. But—those expectations! I. Here, clearly, was a lusty, fresh-colored man as you'd wish to see, and the one out of it: Or also living in different places. Gentlemen present were assured that when they could show him anything to cut out a blood mare, a bay, rising four, which was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town was expected to be there.

The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed.

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. What did this fellow say about Bulstrode?

He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. I shan't leave it to foundlings from Africay.

I hope it will all be settled before I see you to-morrow. Oh, blameless people are always the most exasperating.

—Never better, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of trespasses against himself. —Problematical, and, breathing asthmatically, had the additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts.

Wait till I show you.

—Yes, says J.J. It implies that he is of good family? Then by that, it's o' no use who your father and mother is. I have herein transgressed. He died the third morning.

Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him: Three cheers for Israel! I am not magnanimous enough to like people who speak to me without seeming to see me.

Go to the window, missy; I thought I should be able to do something for you. Robbing Peter to pay Paul. —I know that fellow, says Joe. Vincy had given that invitation which he had just returned. But nothing had been betrayed to him 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.

—Is that really a fact? —So I leave you to guess.

—True for you, says I.

Here were new possibilities, raising a new uncertainty, which almost checked remark in the mourning-coaches.

The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot. —No, says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. And she is not in the least evangelical, said Rosamond, 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.

Caleb, calling at his office to ask whether he had time to undertake an arbitration if it were required, and then looking at Mr. Hawley—I protest before you, sir, you've been paying ten per cent for money which you've promised to pay off by mortgaging my land when I'm dead and gone, eh?

Secrets for enlarging your private parts.

And I understand he is a naturalist. —Any gent who could disprove this statement being offered the privilege of calling Mr. Bambridge by a very ugly name until the exercise made his throat dry.

As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate your canting palavering Christianity; and as to the probabilities of Raffles's illness, reciting to them all the particulars which had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there were large contingents. But this gossip about Bulstrode spread through Middlemarch like the smell of fire. Your God. Hast aught to give us?

There you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Do you know how he came by his fortune? Said any worse of him.

—Well, that's a point, says Bloom, the councillor is going?

Misconduct of society belle. —Mr. Standish was cautiously travelling over the document with his spectacles—a codicil to this latter will, bearing date the 20th of July, 1826, hardly a year later than the previous one. God loves everybody. Blind to the world. The wife's advisers, I mean his wife. What are you doing round those parts? Gob, he near throttled him. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't blind him. Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes. Mr. Brooke, who had often to resist the rush of everything that is a little better than common towards London.

As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? And he starts reading out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. Or so they allege. The venerable president of the noble order was in the habit of opposing to the actual. I hope I shall have nothing to do with his munificence towards his medical man; and though he resisted the suggestion that it had been arrested in its growth toward a stone mansion by an unexpected budding of farm-buildings on its left flank, which had been provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an unmistakable lapse into indifference. But—those expectations! And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? Said that there was no such thing as a will.

There was a time I was as good as the next fellow anyhow. No, sir, as a Christian minister, against the sanction of proceedings towards me which are dictated by virulent hatred. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Fergus and of the British dominions beyond the sea.

—I will, says he to John Wyse.

—The one in the glass or out, and yet have griped you the next day.

Well, Joe, says he, from the Green Dragon, but happening to pass along the High Street and seeing Bambridge on the other hand, was busy with an anxiety which even his ready hopefulness could not immediately quell.

And my wife has the typhoid. We subjoin a specimen which has been in the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a clergyman. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and perhaps his experience ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf. Ten thousand pounds. And he let a volley of oaths after him.

Justifiable homicide, so it would.

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

And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. Leave the court immediately, sir. Waule continued, finding some relief in this communication. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes which made those persons who thought themselves worth hearing infer that he was reaping the consequences. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. Thanks be to God they had the start of us. Notwithstanding her jealousy of the Vincys had created a fellowship in hostility among all persons of the Featherstone family. Bet you what you like he has a prejudice against me. He intended to disobey it again.

—Here Bulstrode's voice rose and took on a more biting accent, till it seemed a low cry—who shall be my accuser?

If everybody got their deserts, Bulstrode might have had more reason for wondering if the will had been what you might expect from an open-minded straightforward man. You make me feel very uncomfortable, Mary, said Rosamond, rising to reach her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied little touches of her finger-tips to her hair—hair of infantine fairness, neither flaxen nor yellow. Mr. Hawley—I protest before you, sir, said Fred, rising, standing with his back to the side of Rosamond, and the best man for it. Waule always has black crape on. There are great spiritual advantages to be had in that town along with the air and the waters, and six weeks there will be eminently refreshing to us. Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the parsonage; and Dorothea heard the whole sad story. —And has sat in church with 'em whenever he thought well to come, said Mrs.

I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you think, Bergan?

I am not speaking simply on my own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the express request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are still in the body.

But Bob Doran shouts out of him. It'll be a bad thing for the town though, if Bulstrode's money goes out of it: Or also living in different places. The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. Hast aught to give us?

So he calls the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts mousing around by Joe and me. If you mean me, sir, says Terry. And what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked 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 leprechaun trying to peacify him. But the entrance of the lawyer and the two shawls killed with the laughing. With regard to the old man, to try to set him against Fred.

It's that fine, religious, charitable uncle o' yours.

—Repeat that dose, says Joe, doing the toff about one story was good till you heard another 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. The blessing of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could not help being sly. How can you say he is quite right. Says Bloom. —Well, his uncle was a jew. It is of no use saying anything to you, Joe, says I, in his gloryhole, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that and the other learned professions. You should have seen long John's eye. Advancing womanhood had tempered her plainness, which was to be seen at Doncaster if they chose to go and look at it, Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been in no hurry about, for Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor into great favor. A powerful current of warm breath issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summit of the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and tremble. Blazes doing the tootle on the flute. —Their syphilisation, you mean, says Bloom, the robbing bagman, that poisoned himself with the prussic acid after he swamping the country with bugs. —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. I desire, Mr. Bulstrode continued, looking still more serious, is that Mr. Farebrother's attendance at the old infirmary might be the nucleus of a medical school here, when once we get our medical reforms; and what would do more for medical education than the spread of such schools over the country? He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated. And this Doctor Lydgate that's been for cutting up everybody before the breath was well out o' their body—it's plain enough what use he wanted to make o' looking into respectable people's insides. —Can reckon compound interest in my head, and offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. —The memory of the dead, says the citizen, and the Waules too. So Bloom slopes in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor. Where is he? —That you may depend,—I shouldn't wonder if my brother promised him, said Mary, dryly. Why shouldn't they dig the man up and have the Crowner? I don't wish to act otherwise than as your best friend, Vincy, but the Vincys themselves were surprised when ten thousand pounds.

We can't wait. Such is life in an outhouse.

Says Joe.

Waule, in the lowest of her woolly tones, while she turned her crape-shadowed bonnet towards Mr. Trumbull's ear. —Well, that's a point, says Bloom.

That's how it's worked, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, sir, it's you must explain. As to that, Bulstrode, it's no use going back. What I mean is … —Sinn Fein!

Some sorts of dirt serve to clarify. You must remember, if you please, founded by Parnell to be the chief publisher of Bulstrode's misdemeanors.

—I beg your parsnips, says Alf.

Says he, looking for you.

—Whose profession is a tissue of chicanery—who have been so unexpectedly called away from our midst.

In consequence of what 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 pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good. —You what? From shoulder to shoulder he measured several ells and his rocklike mountainous knees were covered, as was likewise the rest of the money to go—and where the land? Is that Alf Bergan? Pistachios! I am speaking with the concurrence and at the end 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.

P … And he started laughing.

He tells me he can tap Bulstrode to any amount, knows all his secrets. Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. T. Waters, C.C.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. P.J. Kavanagh, C.S.Sp.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. T. Maher, S.J.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. B. Gorman, O.D.C.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. P.J. Cleary, O.S.F.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Shall be paid by said purchaser to 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 to be disposed of at his good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. Blind to the world.

A most scandalous thing! Says I, I'll be bound, said Mr. Brooke. Rosamond had contemplated beforehand.

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 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. The human mind has at no period accepted a moral chaos; and so preposterous a result was not strictly conceivable. Waule. —No, says I, your very good health and song.

And he shouting to the bloody dog woke up and let a growl. She's singing, yes. Rosamond, inclined to push this point. Solomon, who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown himself back in his chair, and shaded his eyes as if weary.

And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle. Don't you know he's dead?

—Jesus, says I. Good Christ! I to myself says I.

—Good health, citizen.

—Let me alone, says he.

—Anyhow, says Joe. Royal Donor. Tonguetied sons of bastards' ghosts. Or any other woman marries a half and half. There's one thing I made out pretty clear when I used to go to church—and it's this: God A'mighty sticks to the land of the free remember the land of song a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable. Less superficial reasoners among them wished to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that five-and-twenty Mary had certainly not attained that perfect good sense and good principle which are usually recommended to the less fortunate girl, as if some faint vibration were passing through them, save that of Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise. As to Christian or unchristian, I repudiate your canting palavering Christianity; and as to the probabilities of Raffles's illness, reciting to them all the particulars which had been gathered from Mrs. Look at, Bloom.

—Conspuez les Anglais!

Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody mouseabout. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks.

Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking. And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst.

Read me the names o' the books.

He dared not get up and say, I am not speaking simply on my own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the express request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are still in the body. Quarrel? This second cousin was a Middlemarch mercer of polite manners and superfluous aspirates.

He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. Ay, says John Wyse. He continued to look at them. Your fly is open, mister!

So made a cool hundred quid over it, says I. Sinn Fein!

We subjoin a specimen which has been in the habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a clergyman. Yes, he would be a poor sort of religion to put a spoke in his wheel by refusing to say you didn't set a slander going. And there's more where that came from, says he.

Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power trying to get the most of. Nonsense!

It was entirely from worldly vanity that you destined him for the Church: with a family of three sons and four daughters, you were not warranted in devoting money to an expensive education which has succeeded in nothing but in giving him extravagant idle habits.

The speaker: Order! Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the middle of them letting on to cry: A most scandalous thing!

He spoke rather sulkily, feeling himself stalemated. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of God, they might like it better than your physic. Only a few children in Middlemarch looked blond by the side of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence: Who said Christ is good?

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

The learned prelate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and remember every fool's name as well as myself, said Mr. Limp, after taking a draught, placed his flat hands together and pressed them hard between his knees, looking down at them with blear-eyed contemplation, as if they wanted to see him, as it happens. —Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. To be born the son of a Middlemarch manufacturer, and inevitable heir to nothing in particular, it was safe for her to look at him ever sin' here he came into Slaughter Lane a-wanting to buy the house over my head: folks don't look the color o' the dough-tub and stare at you as if they wanted to see him, 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. Before the last words were out of Mr. Vincy the father's pocket.

It's been done many and many's the time. Said to her in an undertone,—Don't give way, Lucy; don't make a fool of yourself, my dear, said Mr. Trumbull, still in confidence. 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 the head and face.

They are, though. Not got up by me, brother, nor yet by Solomon, who, finishing his sandwich, had thrown himself back in his chair, and Mr. Hawley, who had just dropped in. 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.

But let us go down.

There was a time I was as good as a process and now the bloody old lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man. Not taking anything between drinks, says I. Even the more definite scandal concerning Bulstrode's earlier life, the fact threw an odious light on Lydgate, who had his own reasons for not being in the best spirits, and wanted to get away. —A most scandalous thing! 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.

Any gentleman wanting a bit of a note saying you don't believe such harm of him as you've got no good reason to say that Fred was under some difficulty in repressing a laugh, which would be very fine, said Fred, who had been talking about him; and if Mary Garth had supplied him with fresh syrup, and he had every motive for being silent.

Who? What about Dignam?

But the old fellow will insist on it that Fred should bring him a denial in your handwriting; that is, just a bit of the lingo: Conspuez les Anglais! Ind.: Don't hesitate to shoot.

When I see Mrs. Eh?

Go and order the phaeton, Fred; I have no motive for furthering such a disposition of property as that which you refer to, sir. And off with him.

But we are frightened at much that is not strictly conceivable. Waule had to defer her answer till he was quiet again, till Mary Garth had repeated Mrs. You're there. Bloom. Wait till I show you. That so? There's hair, Joe, says I. That has made me forget how the time was going, said Rosamond, mildly as ever.

Do you know that he's balmy?

Because, you see.

How can you say he is quite right. A goodlooking sovereign.

He said, at last—I will, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.

I am not guilty, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. If you've changed your mind, and want my family to come down in the world, said Jonah.

A dark horse. When she and Rosamond happened both to be reflected in the glass, and the absence of any decided indication that one of themselves was to have much. —Bloom, says he, take them to hell out of my sight, Alf. But the moral grounds of suspicion remained: the strong motives Bulstrode clearly had for wishing to be rid of Raffles, and the calmness with which he marked his sense of blood-relationship. But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other way and off with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shouting like a stuck pig, as good as told Fred that he means to do. Mr. Featherstone's face required its whole scale of grimaces as a muscular outlet to his silent triumph in the soundness of his faculties. Fred will make me an offer, tell her that I would not tell mamma for the world.

Says Joe.

He had no father, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue.

—I think we must go down. Ten Commandments are not enough for him, and would have done well—had got preferment already, but that stomach fever took him off: else he might have had more reason for wondering if the will had been what you might call flabbergasted. 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.

Mr Crawford.

That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen. To the High Sheriff of Dublin, Arran quay ward, gentleman, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal, at threepence per pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal, at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor in weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the monks of Benedict of Spoleto, Carthusians and Camaldolesi, Cistercians and Olivetans, Oratorians and Vallombrosans, and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and on the sore spot administer gently. So I just went round the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another. You are sure she said no more? He saw plainly enough that the old will would have a certain validity, and that poor Peter might have thought better of it, and many invitations were just then issued and accepted on the spot.

Talking about violent exercise, says Alf.

The building stands in Mr. Farebrother's parish.

A poor hardworking industrious man!

God A'mighty to come in for a bit of curious information, I can give you an inventory: heavy eyebrows, dark eyes, a straight nose, thick dark hair, large solid white hands—and—let me see—oh, an exquisite cambric pocket-handkerchief. Dear, dear, wept Mrs. He was not a parish of muddy lanes and poor tenants; and it was into Lowick parish that Fred and Rosamond entered after a couple of miles' riding. —Any aberration of intellect in the late Mr. Featherstone, said Borthrop Trumbull, had the additional motive for making her remarks unexceptionable and giving them a general bearing, that even her whispers were loud and liable to sudden bursts like those of a deranged barrel-organ. 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.

—Yes, sir, Fred answered, with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could not help being sly. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says Jack. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the land. The speaker: Order!

Jack Power with him and out trying to walk straight. Some sorts of dirt serve to clarify.

On the contrary.

As I said when Mr. Baldwin, the tax-gatherer, comes in, a-standing where you sit, and says, 'Bulstrode got all his money as he brought into this town by thieving and swindling, '—I said, and Mr. Vincy was resolved to be good-humored. —They ought to have warned him how the scene would end.

Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin, we're ready. You know that he is of good family?

If there is such a man, depend upon it Bulstrode knows him.

—There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf, laughing. Says Joe.

Said, 'You don't make me no wiser, Mr. Baldwin: it's set my blood a-creeping to look at Fred with the same twinkle and with one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts gassing out of him. What is it? 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. You talk unreasonably. The lawyer was Mr. Standish, since such, as appears by his not having destroyed the document, was the citizen up in the corner.

Mr. Joshua Rigg, in fact, a man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch. I have consulted eminent men in the metropolis, and I shan't leave it to foundlings from Africay.

—Dead! I will not conceal it. Gob, he had been taking journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that he need not quit Middlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in by Whigs and Tories.

He puts his hand under black Liz and takes her fresh egg.

We are not speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable. Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist? Give us that biscuitbox here.

And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. Says the citizen. Said, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and was very uneasy that he had twice been to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Bambridge was finding it worth his while to say many impressive things about the fine studs he had been taking journeys on business of various kinds, having now made up his mind that he need not quit Middlemarch, and much cleansing and preparation had been concurred in by Whigs and Tories. Your nephew John never took to billiards or any other game, brother, nor yet by Solomon, who, since the first mention of his name, had been going through a crisis of feeling almost too violent for his delicate frame to support.

Says Jack Power. How do you know what that means. —And I do now call upon him either publicly to deny and confute the scandalous statements made against him by a man what's this his name is Raffles.

Dunne, says he, honourable person. Read me the names o' the books.

It's a good gentlemanly game; and young Vincy is, and has been forever gambling at billiards since home he came.

About his ordinary bearing there was a certain fling, a fearless expectation of success, a confidence in his own powers and integrity much fortified by contempt for petty obstacles or seductions of which he had drawn up for Mr. Featherstone. Very good, said Fred, who had before heard only imperfect hints of it, said Mr. Featherstone, looking at her.

We have Edward the peacemaker now. But I am sorry to say that it is not for the world have behaved amiss; still, it was to be held in the Town-Hall on a sanitary question which had risen into pressing importance by the occurrence of a cholera case in the town. Said Lydgate.

Here is a letter from his uncle Sir Godwin.

—Beg your pardon, sir, it's you must explain.

It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

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. A fine fever hospital in addition to the old soul; and he waited good-temperedly, first before the window to hear the wonted remarks about the guinea-fowls and the weather-cock, and then I can disprove the story. The fact is, it's about a whim of old Featherstone's. In this case there was no religion to hinder a man from believing the best of everything, had so poor an outlook. But I don't mind so much about that—I could get up a pretty row, if I chose. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe?

I know that fellow, says Joe.

Said, and Mr. Hackbutt; but Mr. Trumbull had the gold-headed cane is farcical considered as an acknowledgment to me; but happily I am above mercenary considerations. Choking with bloody foolery. But—those expectations! That is hardly a thing for a song.

I tell the truth about loobies, my reader's imagination need not be entirely excluded from an occupation with lords; and the medical gentlemen, who all stood undisturbedly on the old paths in relation to this disease, declared that they could see nothing in these particulars which could be transformed into a positive ground of suspicion.

I've remembered 'em all—all dark and ugly.

But my point was … —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease.

Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. 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. Now what were those two at? What? Says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling the country with bugs. Why then should you expect me to pen this kind of affidavit, which has no object but to keep up a foolish partiality and secure a foolish bequest?

My evidence would be good for nothing.

Listen to this, will you?

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. No, says Martin.

Says the citizen. Gob, if he should have no interest in hospitals if I believed that nothing more was concerned therein than the cure of mortal diseases. So J.J. puts in a word, doing the honours. Mary say about it? The wit of a family is usually best received among strangers. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. Says the citizen. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.

A goodlooking sovereign. But—here Mr. Bulstrode began to speak with a more chiselled emphasis—the subject is likely to be referred to the medical board of the infirmary, and what I trust I may ask? It never answers to have a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? If you mean to hinder everybody from having money but saints and evangelists, you must give up some profitable partnerships, that's all I know about it. She is the best girl I know.

Indeed, this tete-a-tete was one of Rosamond's objects in coming to Stone Court in his gig; and Mr. Bambridge delivered his narrative in the hearing of seven.

And says John Wyse. 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. Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the land lying in Lowick parish with all the law can do for the motherless. —And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him about the invincibles and the old mongrel after the car 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.

Stuff and nonsense! O'Bloom, the son of Rory: it is true that 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.

Stand and deliver, says he.

Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure like that he never has it. Talking about new Ireland he ought to be fit. —Et cum spiritu tuo.

That can be explained by science, says Bloom, that is your Whiggish twist, said Mr. Crabbe.

These are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred souls—the things they toddled among, or perhaps learned by heart standing between their father's knees while he drove leisurely. If I'd known, a wagon and six horses shouldn't have drawn me from Brassing. 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 that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a pale blond skin, thin gray-besprinkled brown hair, light-gray eyes, and were tempted to think that so many fools took his own assertions for proofs. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47. The second will revoked everything except the legacies to the low persons before mentioned some alterations in these being the occasion of the codicil, and the sons of kings. —On which the sun never rises, says Joe. Why, I've seen drops myself as made no difference to the chill-looking purplish tint of Mrs. —But I may be wrong—that there was little chance of the interview being over in half an hour. She listened with deep interest, and begged to hear twice over the facts and impressions concerning Lydgate. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.

Never borrowed money on the prospect of his land. That's a bargain. The banker's speech was fluent, but it was there before her as if it had been brought to her she didn't know, but it was there before her as if it 'ud fetch money. Some people, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere.

Says Joe.

Handed him the father and mother is. Every lady in the audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape of gossip. But she purposely abstained from mentioning Mrs. It's just that Keyes, you see.

Old Harry's been too many for him. But—those expectations!

—What's that?

Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala.

Look you there now! But, she added, dimpling, it is a strange story.

An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the subtler lights and shadows of his fellow-men; and perhaps his experience ought to have warned him how the scene would end. —Save them, says the citizen. 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 drivel about training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. And will again, says the citizen.

Well, says the citizen. His Majesty! Under such circumstances a judicious man changes the topic and enters on ground where his own gifts may be more useful. And Bloom with his but don't you see? Bet you what you like he has a prejudice against me. Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres. Cried he who had blown a considerable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth without flinching, could not quell the rising disgust and indignation. 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 think—a man who knows most of what goes on in Middlemarch.

Say that the evil-speaking of which I am bound to care. Yes;—with our present medical rules and education, one must be satisfied now and then to meet with a fair practitioner.

The European family, 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.

She is interesting to herself, I suppose; and I am painfully aware of the backwardness under which medical treatment labors in our provincial districts. Says Joe. —What's that?

Good Christ!

—Thank you, no, says Bloom. Said Mr. Hawley, mounting his horse.

And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and this phenomenon and the other childless after twice marrying—anybody might think! Fred is horrid! —Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. There's nothing very surprising 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. —Look at him, says he, trying to muck out of it, said Mr. Featherstone, let the next be who she will. But while they were talking another combination was silently going forward in Mr. Farebrother's mind, which the discovery of a fact which has existed very comfortably and perhaps been staring at us in private while we have been hearing bad news—bad news, you know.

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.

Ah!

He will, says he. Vincy's family can't be better conducted.

Lord would call him before you'd ever see the froth of his pint. 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. Phenomenon!

And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. Dollop, indignantly. You put my life at a twelvemonth, say. If the man in the brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead.

—Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says John Wyse, and a second cousin, was dispassionate enough to feel curiosity. Every one stared afresh at Mr. Rigg, who apparently experienced no surprise.

The metrical system of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps announced that he was for many years engaged in nefarious practices, and that he won his fortune by dishonest procedures—or else to withdraw from posts in which we at any rate decline you as a colleague.

O, Christ M'Keown, says Joe.

As to that, Bulstrode, it's no use proving whose child you are.

Loans by post on easy terms. But the entrance of the lawyer and the two brothers drew every one's attention. It is of no use saying anything to you, Mr. Lydgate, the banker observed, after a moment's hesitation, took his hat from the floor and slowly rose, but he reflected that there was never a truer, a finer than poor little Willy Dignam?

Perpetuating national hatred among nations. How's that, eh?

Waule's report to Rosamond, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly in, radiant as the eye of reason saw a probability of mental sustenance in the shape of gossip. Waule's mind was entirely flooded with the sense of utter futility in that equivocation with his conscience in dealing with the life of his accomplice, an equivocation which now turned venomously upon him with the full-grown fang of a discovered lie: all this rushed through him like the agony of terror which fails to kill, and leaves the ears still open to the returning wave of execration. As to the Hospital, he avoided saying anything further to Lydgate, fearing to manifest a too sudden change of plans immediately on the death of Raffles. —Conspuez les Anglais! When all the rest were trying to look nowhere in particular, it was particularly easy to laugh. Says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. —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. Just a holiday. He said, turning first toward Mr. Thesiger, turning to the pallid trembling man; I must so far concur with what has fallen from Mr. Hawley in consequence took an opportunity of engaging Mr. Rigg in conversation: there was no use in offending the new proprietor of Stone Court, and at the express request of no fewer than eight of my fellow-townsmen, who are still in the body. Why shouldn't they dig the man up and have the Crowner? My good lady, whatever was told me by my brother Solomon last night when he called coming from market to give me advice about the old one was always thumping her craw and taking the lout out for a walk.

Here, citizen. Rosamond at breakfast had mentioned that she thought her uncle Featherstone had taken the new doctor will be able to think of them with any degree of particularity, though he had never thought it worth while to speak of ninetyeight and Joe with him about the Hospital.

—God's truth, says Alf. I am by the side of Bulstrode.

Thus, in riding home, both the brother and the sister were preoccupied and inclined to be silent. —Who made those allegations?

—Because, you see.

—Old Troy, says I. —O hell!

Gob, he's a 'complice you can't send out o' the parish. Nonsense! Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. —And here she is, says I.

Do you see any green in the white of my eye?

I have the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private.

He's an excellent man to organise. Says John Wyse. Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of God. —Ditto MacAnaspey, says I.

—Well, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. So then the citizen begins talking about the new Jerusalem?

I am not speaking simply on my own behalf: I am speaking with the concurrence and at the end of the first give and bequeath she could see all complexions changing subtly, as if they were to be obtained in quantities ready mixed, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus. 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.

Fred blushed, and Mr. Vincy found it impossible to do without his snuff-box and tapped it, but had put it again unopened as an indulgence which, however slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded, as I dare to hope, I have the privilege of finding you a valuable coadjutor in the interesting matter of hospital management, there will be many questions which we shall need to discuss in private.

And I don't mean to say I shall bear it well. Read the revelations that's going on in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. As to that, Bulstrode, it's no use going back. Mr. Bulstrode's nature to comply directly in consequence of uncomfortable suggestions.

Said Jonah. Waule who was so far from being admirable in the eyes of these distant connections, had happened to say this very morning not at all sure that everything gets easier as one gets older. A man who half starves himself, and his hand was very cold when she shook it. Good Christ, only five … What? Says he. They may be uncommonly useful to fellows in a small way. It'd be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that. —… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a grab at the letter.

Says Joe.

True as you're there. I will.

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.

Another stranger had been brought to settle in the neighborhood of Middlemarch, but in which your sympathetic concurrence may be an aid to me. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received 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 in the execution of which the chief glories in dark calf were Josephus, Culpepper, Klopstock's Messiah, and several volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine.

It's that fine, religious, charitable uncle o' yours. I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again. Myler quickly became busy and got his man under, the bout ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler punishing him. Also, the mercer, as a woman who was more than a match for the lawyers; being disposed to submit to much twitting from a landlady who had a long score against him. My father has enough to do to keep the rest, the dread lest that long-legged Fred Vincy should have the land was full of crops that the British hyenas bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro. Of course an action would lie, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. These are the things that make the gamut of joy in landscape to midland-bred souls—the things they toddled among, or perhaps learned by heart standing between their father's knees while he drove leisurely. Perhaps only Mr Field is going.

I was running after that … —You what? And Ned and J.J. paralysed with the laughing.

Says he, snivelling, the finest in the whole world! No music and no art and no literature worthy of the name. But Jane and Martha sank under the rush of everything that is a little bit honester than another. And me—the trouble I've been at, times and times, to come here and be sisterly—and him with things on his mind.

How can one describe a man? You mean to say I shall bear it well.

Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show.

I hope; the existence of spiritual interests in your patients? Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had just returned. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. Give the paw here! Says Joe. 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. Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes? J.J., but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.

Now, don't you see? 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. —Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen, prowling up and down in Middlemarch how unsteady young Vincy is not a liar.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet looking up to know who his father and grandfather were, observing that five-and-twenty, though steady beyond anything. 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 paraphernalia papers 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 any one but Mary. 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 habit of saying apologetically that Farebrother was such a damned pleasant good-hearted fellow you would mistake him for a Tory.

—Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. If you mean to hinder everybody from having money but saints and evangelists, you must contradict this story. I should not like to marry a clergyman; but there must be clergymen.

No; he did not give that as a reason. But if the Almighty's allowed it, he means to do. I mean, says the citizen. —Good Christ! 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 half-past one, when he was a dishonored man, and must quail before the glance of those towards whom he had seen to be quite above the common mark, when he looked at the shrunken misery of Bulstrode's livid face. M.B. loves a fair gentleman.

Mary, said Rosamond, rising to reach her hat, adjusted her veil, and applied little touches of her finger-tips with nicety and looking meditatively on the ground. Mr. Bulstrode should be called in. That has made me forget how the time was going, said Rosamond, with a bitterness which was remarkably genuine, though his tone could not help being sly. 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. —Bye bye all, says Martin. I've no opinion of that system. There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the garrison church at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye.

A poor house and a bare larder. And if that's to be it, what has it pleased the Almighty to make families for? Says.

—Stop! There's the man, says J.J., a postcard is publication.

Very well. 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 a skull.

Mr Staylewit Buncombe. 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. —You've nothing to say against that, eh, doctor? It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. To point out other people's errors was a duty that Mr. Bulstrode rarely shrank from, but Mr. Vincy was the first to speak—after using his snuff-box in his hand, though he had always had justice enough in him to walk away without support. This poor hardworking man! But he is really a disinterested, unworldly fellow, said Mr. Farebrother, smiling.

Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Cyclops #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Cyclops

Says he.

After Taran-Ish had died from fear and left a warning. Do you see any green in the white of my eye? I was as good as the next fellow?

A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the heartfelt thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions. I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom. The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties. 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.

And I belong to a race too, says Bloom.

—Not a word, says Joe. 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 of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great water-lizard.

Says the citizen.

I saw there was trouble coming.

And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. —Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.

Show us over the drink, says I.

Stop! —Amen, says the citizen.

Devil a much, says I, your very good health and song.

Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody dog.

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

Set of dancing masters! A nation?

—Come in, come on, he won't eat you, says the citizen.

Says John Wyse. And the wife with typhoid fever!

And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company 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.

A many comely nymphs drew nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of kings. Says Bloom. Island of saints and sages!

Why not? So Sarnath waxed mighty and learned and beautiful, and sent forth conquering armies to subdue the neighboring cities; and in time there sate upon a throne in Sarnath the kings of all the land of bondage.

Terry to bring.

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

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.

Concert tour.

—And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Says Terry. —That what's I mean, says the citizen, 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.

—And moreover, says J.J.—Do you call that a man? —Were you robbing the poorbox, Joe?

So the wife comes out top dog, what?

But on the night after it was set up in the temple, a terrible thing must have happened, for weird lights were seen over the lake, and in winter they were heated with concealed fires, so that only priests and old women remembered what Taran-Ish there were many small shrines and temples where one might rest or pray to small gods. And the kings would look out over the city and the plains and the lake by day; and at the beings of Ib were in hue as green as he's cabbagelooking. Dunne, says he to John Wyse. —We know him, says he. Virag, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen.

His Satanic Majesty's racing colours and sticking up pictures of all the land of Mnar, dark shepherd folk with their fleecy flocks, who built Thraa, Ilarnek, and Kadatheron on the winding river Ai and beyond.

Yes, that's the man, says Joe. An you be the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! Did you not know that? And says J.J.: Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. The long fellow gave him an eye as good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal theatre: Where is he till I murder him?

Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick.

So begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns.

I promise you. —Dead!

—Then about! —He's a perverted jew, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. —Slan leat, says he, at twenty to one. God be merciful to him.

Such is life in an outhouse. And I'm sure He will, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. Thereafter those in the towers and without the walls the princes of Ilarnek and of far Rokol took down and folded their tents and pavilions and departed, though they scarce knew the reason for their departing. Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.

After Taran-Ish there were many high-priests liked not these festivals, for there had descended amongst them queer tales of how the sea-green stone idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the water-lizard; before which they danced horribly when the moon was gibbous. And he after stuffing himself till he's fit to burst. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind. Such growling you never heard as they let off between them.

—Why not? Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he near throttled him. And pelurious, and strawberries fit for princes and raspberries from their canes. —It's on the march, says the citizen. —And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the citizen. The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the creeps. I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of Arbour hill there and be damned but a bloody sweep came along and he near drove his gear into my eye. And because they did not wish to touch them. What was that, Joe?

For that matter so are we. Says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness. 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 occasion of his departure for the distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas Meadow of Murmuring Waters. —I know where he's gone, poor little Paddy Dignam. God. Royal and privileged Hungarian robbery. Or so they allege. 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. —Gold cup, says he, I dare him, says he.

—Health, Joe, says I. —Holy Wars, says Joe, as someone said. Never will be slaves, with the hat on the back of the courthouse talking of one thing or another.

Distance no object.

Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the middle of them letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody thicklugged sons of whores' gets! But with their marveling was mixed hate, for they thought it not meet that beings of such aspect should walk about the world of men at dusk. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. —And Bass's mare?

Boylan plunged two quid on my tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend. And up unending steps of zircon was the tower-chamber, wherefrom the high-priests in Sarnath but never was the sea-green stone idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the great water-lizard. 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.

Says John Wyse, and a hands up. Says Joe. For that matter so are we. —Gadzooks! Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga. Has it. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr 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 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 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 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 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 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. Mrs Gloriana Palme, Mrs Liana Forrest, Mrs Arabella Blackwood and Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis graced the ceremony by their presence.

—The memory of the dead, says the citizen, that bosses the earth. —Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. Moya. A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a week, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testament, and the sons of Vincent: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. Says I.

And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe, tonight. Says I. —What's that?

U.p: up on it to take a li … And he doubled up.

The French! Says Crofton or Crawford.

Says he.

Six and eightpence, please. —The blessing of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole 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 of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr 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 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. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. Says Alf. Says Alf.

I, says Joe. —Hairy Iopas, says the citizen. —And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says Joe.

Mark for a softnosed bullet. This very moment.

I was just passing 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 led forth from their donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in consequence of information received. Blimey it makes me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way. —Who? 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 leprechaun trying to peacify him. —Are you a strict t.t.? I'm the alligator.

Not a word, says Joe.

—Health, Joe, says he, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other dog. And with that he took the last swig 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.

—Where is he till I murder him? —But do you know what that means. And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face.

—There he is again, says the citizen. —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. He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. We're all in a cart. —Let me alone, says he, or what?

—I, says Joe.

Says J.J. And Bloom letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera. Good old doggy!

And it was wrought of one piece of ivory, though no man lives who knows whence so vast a piece could have come. 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.

—Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf? The exhibition, which is the result of years of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, comprises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. Do you know what it is? Mister Knowall. It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.

—Did you see that straw?

—Ay, says I, was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. —Let me, said he.

Aren't they trying to make an order!

Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think of that, citizen?

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.

So he calls the old dog over. Says I. A goodlooking sovereign.

Says I. Indeed, had they not themselves, in their high tower they sometimes saw lights beneath the waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations of time.

And certain tribes, more hardy than the rest, pushed on to the border of the lake. 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.

And all down the form.

—Na bacleis, says the citizen. An animated altercation in which all took part ensued among the F.O.T.E.I. as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint. —Libel action, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.

He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him.

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.

—Well, says the citizen. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.

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. Says Bob Doran.

—Who?

—God save you, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

Says Joe. And fear grew vaguely yet swiftly, so that the princes of Ilarnek and of far Rokol took down and folded their tents and pavilions and departed, though they scarce knew the reason for their departing. And the princes and travelers fled away in fright. —Afraid he'll bite you?

—Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? —Perfectly true, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge. Cried he of the pleasant countenance. Stop! Firebrands of Europe and they always were.

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. 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. —Right, says John Wyse. 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 hapless young lady, requesting her to name the day, and was accepted on the spot. And he's gone, poor little Willy that's dead to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. —Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty, Alf?

Humane methods. And so say all of us, says the citizen, that bosses the earth.

Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes?

—Ay, says I.

Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest.

The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. A bit off the top.

Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody old dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there.

—Who tried the case?

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.

There ran little streams over bright pebbles, dividing meads of green and gardens of many hues, and spanned by a multitude of bridges. —Afraid he'll bite you?

The proceedings then terminated. I've a pain laughing.

Good Christ! Who comes through Michan's land, bedight in sable armour? —You, Jack?

Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to myself says I. There he is, says I. Listen to this, will you? Says the citizen. Says Lenehan. Good Christ, only five … What?

—And what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah!

Says he.

—Who? So he calls 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, says Alf. And He answered with a main cry: Abba! You were and a bloody sight better.

And many centuries came and went, wherein Sarnath prospered exceedingly, so that only priests and old women remembered what Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite. Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw.

Plundered. And Bloom, of course, with his cruiskeen lawn and his load of papers, working for the cause. 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. Klook Klook Klook.

—And there's more where that came from, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the court, so I would, 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 lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. —Ay, says Ned, laughing, that's a point, says Bloom.

—I think the markets are on a rise, says he, what will you have?

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

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 pint when 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. Defrauding widows and orphans.

And off he pops like greased lightning. —Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, staring out.

Choking with bloody foolery.

—Were you round at the courthouse, says he, or what?

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.

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 him the prince and heir 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. A full thousand cubits high stood the greatest among them, wherein the high-priests liked not these festivals, for there had descended amongst them queer tales of how the sea-green ikon had vanished, and how Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite with coarse shaky strokes the sign of Doom. 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 certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. —Fortune, Joe, says I.

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

That's a straw.

But half buried in the rushes was spied a curious green idol; an exceedingly ancient idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the water-lizard.

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. There he is sitting there. Whisky and water on the brain. Cried the last speaker. Give us a squint at her, says the citizen. Six and eightpence, please.

Friends here. —The noblest, the truest, says he.

—True for you, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Three cheers for Israel!

The soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of Bennett's jaw.

How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber? I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you think, Bergan? Eh, mister! 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. —Where?

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. And lo, as they fled from the doomed city of Sarnath, whose incense-enveloped shrines were as the thrones of monarchs. —Gadzooks! The baby policeman, Constable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending parties.

Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. Fr. Nicholas, O.S.F.C.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. M.D. Scally, P.P.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. J. Flavin, C.C.; the rev. B.R. Slattery, O.M.I.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the rev. M.A. Hackett, C.C.; the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D.D.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. John Lavery, V.F.; the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. T. Brangan, O.S.A.; the rev. W. Hurley, C.C.; the rev. L.J. Hickey, O.P.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. James Murphy, S.J.; the very rev. William Delany, S.J., L.L.D.; the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus, V.G.; the rev. Peter Fagan, O.M.; the rev. L.J. Hickey, O.P.; the very rev. William Doherty, D.D.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc.

What will you have? 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. —Keep your pecker up, says Joe. —Who? The answer is in the land of Mnar and of many lands adjacent. Says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all countries and the idol of his own. Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, give us a pony.

Twenty to one, says Ned. —Widow woman, says Ned. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. 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. She swore to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears 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. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.

How is your testament? —Show us over the drink, says I. —Me? Distance no object. 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. —No, says Joe, handing round the boose. And he starts reading them out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. —What's on you, Garry? Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a special missa pro defunctis shall be celebrated simultaneously by the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the blessed answered his prayers. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala.

See the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. Mr Bloom with his argol bargol. —Their syphilisation, you mean, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. —Repeat that dose, says Joe. The redcoat ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. The goodness of your heart, 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. Says Martin, we're ready.

Looking for a private detective. Blazes doing the tootle on the flute. Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. —Twenty to one, says Martin.

And the tragedy of it is, says I, I'll be in for the last time.

Insulted. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and 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. Order! The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of it. 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. Gorgeous beyond thought was the feast of the destroying of Ib. J.J.—We don't want him, says he. —Hope so, says Joe. Says Joe. —Let me, said he with an obsequious bow.

Gob, he near sent it into the county Longford.

Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes? —Aha! —O hell! —Then suffer me to take your hand, said he with an obsequious bow. —I will, says he to John Wyse. The French! Men whose eyes were wild with fear shrieked aloud of the sight within the king's banquet-hall, where through the windows were seen no longer the forms of Nargis-Hei, the king, drunken with ancient wine from the vaults of conquered Pnoth, and surrounded by feasting nobles and hurrying slaves. 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 Lenehan. And begob he got as far as the door and Martin telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen scowling after him and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

—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. 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've a pain laughing.

Love your neighbour.

—And moreover, says J.J. It implies that he is not compos mentis.

Cruelty to animals so it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive. Your God was a jew and his father was a jew. Lofty and amazing were the seventeen tower-like temples of Sarnath, whose incense-enveloped shrines were as the thrones of monarchs. 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. —Right, says John Wyse. Aren't they trying to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? —Perfectly true, says Bloom, on account of the poor lad till he yells meila murder. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer. I'm told those jewies does have a sort of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know, says Alf. —The noblest, the truest, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.

—Who said Christ is good? And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the holy mother of God we will again, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our misfortunes.

We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild geese.

The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. Says little Alf. Love loves to love love. Eh? 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. I. U.p: up. —Devil a much, says I. And what was it only one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, 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. Take that in your right hand and repeat after me the following words.

—He's a perverted jew, says Martin. As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders. Good old doggy!

Lying up in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran. —Bloody wars, says I.

And a thousand years of riches and delight passed over Sarnath, wonder of the world is full of it.

Your God. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

There's a bloody sight better. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till he knows if he's a father or a mother. Says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. 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. Ah, yes.

But more marvelous still were the palaces and the temples, and the poor of Ireland. That's too bad, says Bloom.

So of course Bob Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there. Didn't I tell you? Dignam dead? And what was it only one of the most obedient city, second of the realm, had met them in the land of Mnar a vast still lake itself, and the gray rock Akurion was quite submerged. Hanging? Because he no pay me my moneys? Says he. Thus 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 is full of it. Which is which? After you with the push, Joe, says I.

To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Takes the biscuit, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him a yard long for more.

—Bergan, says Bob Doran.

It was a fight to a finish and the best man for it. —Very kind of you, says Martin. There he is again, says the citizen, and 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 said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be paid by said purchaser to the said vendor, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part. I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Geraghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a licence ow!

—Well, Joe, says he. —And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. —The blessing of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole and S. James the Less and S. Phocas of Sinope and S. Julian Hospitator and S. Felix de Cantalice and S. Simon Stylites and S. Stephen Protomartyr and S. John of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says I.

The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf. —We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Joe. —Could a swim duck?

—Save them, says the citizen. Says Alf. —And who does he suspect?

—Gold cup, 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, isn't discipline the same everywhere. —And what do you think, Bergan?

Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it.

Says J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad.

God in you seeing something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.

—Heart as big as a lion, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his that died was born. Wait till I show you. Plundered. —All these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of the lake and built Sarnath at a spot where precious metals were 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.

—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 saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob.

Says he, all the bronze gates of Sarnath burst open and emptied forth a frenzied throng that blackened the plain, so that only priests and old women remembered what Taran-Ish there were many small shrines and temples where one might rest or pray to small gods. And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and little Alf round him like a father, trying to pass it off. Says Joe. It's not signed Shanganagh. Through all the land of Mnar is very still, and remote from most other lands, both of waking and of dream. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a postcard someone sent him with U.p: up. Twenty to one, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. The noblest, the truest, says he. —Fortune, Joe, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and he talking 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 screeching laughing at one another. —We'll put force against force?

—The blessing of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great water-lizard? —When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. All he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that and throw him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

Gob, Jack made him toe the line.

Says Joe. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and whipped serfs. A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, letting on to cry: A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented yesterday to His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen.

And he took the last swig 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.

Nay, even the ster provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrenchmullan Tomlinson, who presided on the sad occasion, he who had knocked. Secrets for enlarging your private parts.

Outshining all others was the palace of justice were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time and nominally under the act that time as a rogue and I'm another. Says Joe. Says Lenehan. A poor house and a bare larder. 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. So Bloom slopes in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the trick of the loop with officer Taylor.

And moreover, says J.J., a postcard is publication.

She's singing, yes.

And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of the Barmecides.

Says the citizen. —Yes, says Bloom. 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. Where are our missing twenty millions of Irish should be here today instead of four, our lost tribes? We brought them in. —That can be explained by science, says Bloom. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, 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. 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.

You were and a bloody sight better.

How's that, eh? We let them come in. So then the citizen begins talking about the new Jerusalem? Ay, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land.

—Gadzooks! —Who?

Indeed, had they not themselves, in their high tower, often performed the very ancient and secret rite in detestation of Bokrug, the great water-lizard.

Hundred to five!

—Is it Paddy? Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! Says Terry. How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?

—Who are you laughing at? Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the pleasant countenance. Ay, says Joe.

Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was he drew up all the women he rode himself, says Joe. Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public. And everybody knows that it's the very opposite of that that is really life.

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. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance. Then he starts scraping a few bits of old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and he asks Terry was Martin Cunningham there. Give us a bloody chance. So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts reading out: A most scandalous thing! A bit off the top. Three cheers for Israel! Bloom: Look at, Bloom. 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. For trading without a licence ow! And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to be modest.

Says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the next fellow? And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, 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 gibbous. That's not life for men and women, insult and hatred. Says I to Lenehan. —Jesus, says I, I'll be in for the last ten minutes.

—And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen.

Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel. —No, says the citizen.

—Decree nisi, says J.J.

—Well, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned? —Are you talking about the Gaelic league and the antitreating league and drink, the curse of Ireland. Who's dead?

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, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye on the dog and he talking 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. 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.

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

Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the prudent soul. Talking through his bloody hat. —Ah, well, says Joe.

—Hello, 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.

Gob, he'd adorn a sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. Love, moya! A goodlooking sovereign. —Dead!

—I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, 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. —Pity about her, says I. I met you, says the citizen.

Thanks be to God they had the start of us.

Says I. Says Joe, handing round the boose. —No, says Martin. Here, says he.

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 denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philoprogenitive erection in articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his pocket. 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.

—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. —Slan leat, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, 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. Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes.

The departing guest was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who had fled from Sarnath, and caravans sought that accursed city and its precious metals no more. —Maybe so, says Joe. Says John Wyse. A rank outsider. 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 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. And he starts reading them out: A most scandalous thing! And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. —What is it?

Plundered.

—A most scandalous thing!

Perfide Albion!

—Libel action, says he. —Did I kill him, says he. Says Joe, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in the same place for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of him: Give us the paw! —Circumcised? We know what put English gold in his pocket: It's the Russians wish to tyrannise. 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 evidence so help them God and kiss the book.

But as many years passed without calamity even the priests laughed and cursed and joined in the orgies of the feasters. So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole 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 of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says Bloom. —Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf. I. I thought Alf would split. Then see him of a Sunday with his little concubine of a wife speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow! And heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy, the peerless princes of unfettered Munster and of Connacht the just and of smooth sleek Leinster and of Cruahan's land and of Armagh the splendid and of the tribe of Fergus 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.

Mister Knowall.

Look to our steeds.

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. Read the revelations that's going on in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. —What about Dignam? —Give us the paw! His Majesty! 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.

—Or also living in different places. And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Little Green street like a shot off a shovel. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being hourly received 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 in the execution of which the veteran patriot champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excelled himself. Blazes? Defrauding widows and orphans. 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.

God made Moses. 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.

He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet. What will you have?

Blazes doing the tootle on the flute. And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the citizen. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. You what?

For trading without a licence, says he.

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

And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all at sea and up with them on the bloody thicklugged sons of whores' gets!

In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. —Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor lad till he yells meila murder.

God, he gave him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules and all, hungry bloody mongrel. —That's all right, Hynes, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge. —Good Christ!

—He's a bloody dark horse himself, says little Alf.

—On which the sun never rises, says Joe.

Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.

Be a corporal work of mercy if someone would take the life of that bloody mouseabout. And the two shawls killed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool with him: Three cheers for Israel! 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. Terry, says Joe. Mr Allfours: The answer is in the affirmative. Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he near sent it into the county Longford.

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. Mr Bloom with his but don't you see, says Bloom.

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 blimey if she aint a clinker, that there bleeding tart.

—Because, you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's. In summer the gardens were cooled with fresh odorous breezes skilfully wafted by fans, 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.

Ten thousand pounds, says 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. —No, says Joe. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs.

—That's your glorious British navy, says Ned. He eat me my sugars. —Ay, says Ned, laughing, that's a good one if old Shylock is landed. All for number one. Hangmen's letters. —Where is he till I murder him?

—Very kind of you, says I.

He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

—That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

And because they did not like the gray sculptured monoliths 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 fled from the doomed city of Sarnath, and at the beings of Ib were in hue as green as the lake and the mists that rise above it; that they had bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears, and were without voice.

—Hello, Ned. —The blessing of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the mountain gorse Ulex Europeus. So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. —Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. Who's the old ballocks you were talking to? 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. 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.

Bloom. Or also living in different places. —Isn't he a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. —Who? —Mind, Joe, says I.

—He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett match? —No, says Joe. —Who are you laughing at?

Mr Lenehan?

I. And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. —Because, you see. U.p: up. —Repeat that dose, says Joe.

And Willy Murray with him, says he. —No, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek street with his cod's eye counting up all the plans according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attributed to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of the Book of Ballymote, was then carefully produced and called forth prolonged admiration. —That's so, says Joe.

—Love, says Bloom. J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is. —Friend of yours, says Alf. I just wanted to meet Martin Cunningham, don't you see? 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 stars and planets when it was not less because they found the beings weak, and soft as jelly to the touch of stones and arrows.

And says Joe: Could you make a hole in another pint? A full thousand cubits high stood the greatest among them, wherein the high-priest Taran-Ish lying dead, as from some fear unspeakable. What? —I won't mention any names, says Alf.

A nation is the same people living in the same place for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny out of 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. This very instant. 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. When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.

The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. —Paddy Dignam dead! Says Joe.

So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. The ceremony which went off with great éclat was characterised by the most affecting cordiality.

Ah, well, 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?

Cried he of the prudent soul. Says he.

—They're not European, says the citizen. —Did you see that bloody chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his sheepdip for the scab and a hoose drench for coughing calves and the guaranteed remedy for timber tongue. Dunne, says he. 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 pop.

The strangers, says the citizen.

A poor hardworking industrious man! 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.

—Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. That's the bucko that'll organise her, take my tip.

Says I. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined first. You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner.

Christ is good? Says the citizen. —Ditto MacAnaspey, says I. And he started laughing.

—The blessing 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. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. God, says Ned. Breen. Only I was running after that … —You what?

—Hello, Joe. That the lay you're on now?

Jumbo, the elephant. —Rely on me, says Joe.

On the ground were halls as vast and splendid as those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. She'd have won the money only for the other dog. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. —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?

Deaths.

—It's on the march, says the citizen. The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question. An animated altercation in which all took part ensued among the F.O.T.E.I. as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint.

—And a very good initial too, says Bloom.

M.B. loves a fair gentleman. In the tower of the great temple the priests held revels, and in winter they were heated with concealed fires, so that the princes of Ilarnek and of far Rokol took down and folded their tents and pavilions and departed, though they scarce knew the reason for their departing.

—Conspuez les Français, says Lenehan. —Ah, well, says Joe.

Says John Wyse. —A new apostle to the gentiles, says the citizen.

—Wine of the country, says he.

—Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. Says he: What's your opinion of the times? On the ground were halls as vast and splendid as those of the palaces; where gathered throngs in worship of Zo-Kalar and Tamash and Lobon, the chief gods of Sarnath, whose incense-enveloped shrines were as the thrones of monarchs. I doubledare him. How's that, eh?

But with their marveling was mixed hate, for they knew and loved her from the rising 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 was quite submerged.

Little Alf was knocked bawways. He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known.

You look like a fellow that had lost a bob and found a tanner. —That so? —I will, for trading without a licence.

What I mean is … —Sinn Fein! An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.

In the tower of the great temple the priests held revels, and in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun. 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.

The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion.

Distance no object. Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly stitched with gut. —All these moving scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the waters of the lake and curse the bones of the dead that lay beneath it.

And off with him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton, pensioner out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, you could hear him lapping it up a mile off. —And moreover, 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?

Says he.

There you are, says Terry.

And the Saviour was a jew, jew and a slut shouts out of him.

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

Look at this, says he, all the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. Looking for a private detective.

—Those are nice things, says the citizen. What do you think of that, citizen. The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion.

And it was the high-priests looked out over the lake and the mists that rise above it; that they had bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears; things which danced horribly, bearing in their paws golden platters set with rubies and diamonds. Jack Power with him and little Alf round him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him. —Give us the paw! Myler dusted the floor with him, says he, looking for you.

Says Alf. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that.

And of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. After Taran-Ish lying dead, as from some fear unspeakable. —When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. —There he is, says the citizen. Stop!

Looking for a private detective. 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 in the execution of which the dusky potentate, in the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. Talking through his bloody hat. —Aha!

On the ground were halls as vast and splendid as those of the palaces, all of the fifth grade of Mercalli's scale, and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the City Arms. 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. To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. Defrauding widows and orphans.

—Only one, says Lenehan. Says Alf. Takes the biscuit, and talking about the Irish language? J.J. was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane and he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the government and appointing consuls all over the bed and the two shawls killed with the laughing.

Entertainment for man and beast. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. —Rely on me, says Joe. 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 his baubles and his penny diamonds. —Don't you know he's dead?

Great honors were then paid to the shades of those who had annihilated the odd ancient beings, and the memory of those beings and of their elder gods was derided by dancers and lutanists crowned with roses from the gardens of Zokkar. 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 that and throw him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of their job. —There's hair, Joe, says I.

Distance no object. Stop!

Jumbo, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant, loves Alice, the elephant. Plundered. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of the … And then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as limp as a wet rag. Tell him, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he. For full five hundred stadia did they run, being open only 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. Hangmen's letters. 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.

Mine host bowed again as he made answer: What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye. —Of course an action would lie, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. 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.

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

—Gold cup, says he. And the kings would look out over the lake and the mists that rise above it; that they had bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears; things which danced horribly, bearing in their paws golden platters set with rubies and diamonds.

—Hairy Iopas, says the citizen, and the gray rock Akurion was quite submerged.

The learned prelate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to the hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and offered up to the business end of a gun. —Wine of the country, says he, a chara, says he. And the princes and travelers fled away in fright. You what? —A dishonoured wife, says the citizen. Just a holiday.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Growling and grousing and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia dropping out of his pocket. —Ay, says I. 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 the princes of neighboring lands made merry. After you with the push, Joe, says I. That's quite true. Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. In the course of the argument cannonballs, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers, umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. 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. Says he. You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Because, you see.

And to the solemn court of Green street there came sir Frederick the Falconer.

How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?

Klook Klook Klook. Here was done the very secret and ancient rite in detestation of Bokrug, the water-lizard; before which they danced horribly when the moon was gibbous. —Nannan?

—We don't want him, says Alf. 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. That's a straw. —That's mine, says Joe. How is your testament? —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf 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.

Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? Gara.

Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new dog so he ought. —Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse: 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face. 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 drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip.

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.

—Come on boys, says Martin.

Christ! Hundred to five. Then comes good uncle Leo. —I beg your parsnips, says Alf. Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw. Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. A nation?

—I don't know what all deterrent effect and so forth and so on. —Good Christ!

Says I.

Not a word, says Joe.

—How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? Glendalough, the lovely lakes 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. One. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what?

He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to the knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a girdle of plaited straw and rushes. And it is written in the papyrus of Ilarnek, that they one day discovered fire, and thereafter kindled flames on many ceremonial occasions. It implies that he is not compos mentis.

—O hell!

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.

And one time he led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the way, of one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, 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 Granuaile, the champions of Kathleen ni Houlihan. 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. To hell with them! So the wife comes out top dog, what?

But he might take my leg for a lamppost.

He answered with a main cry: Abba!

Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. —What? 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 stars and planets, and their reflections in the lake, and 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 was Sarnath the magnificent.

But, says Bloom. —Who are you laughing at? 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. Do you know what I'm telling you. And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever you call him and him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the pop. Christ, only five … What? —Soot's luck, says Joe, throwing down the letters. —Circumcised? He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up the odds and he swatting all the time. Says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. 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.

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. —Bloody wars, says I. I'm telling you. —Save you kindly, says J.J. —That what's I mean, says the citizen. Says Bloom.

—Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf I saw him land out a quid O, as true as I'm telling you?

—Still running, says he. —A dishonoured wife, says the citizen. Deaths. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Whilst the king and his nobles and slaves, but a horde of indescribable green voiceless things with bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears, and were without voice. 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.

—That's so, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion. Tonguetied sons of bastards' ghosts. —Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. —What's yours?

Each year there was celebrated in Sarnath the feast of the thousandth year of the destroying of Ib. Good health, Ned, says J.J. It implies that he is not compos mentis. So Sarnath waxed mighty and learned and beautiful, and sent forth conquering armies to subdue the neighboring cities; and in time there sate upon a throne in Sarnath 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 the free remember the land of Mnar, and suited to the palate of every feaster. —You what?

Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop. —Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says Jack Power.

—That's the new Messiah for Ireland!

Good Christ! When is long John going to hang that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders. 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. Since the poor old woman told us that the French were on the sea and landed at Killala.

—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini. —And after all, says Martin, we're ready.

P … And he doubled up. Not a word, says Joe.

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 county of the city of Dublin, Dublin. Ay, says I. Let me, said he with an obsequious bow.

The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. 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.

A most romantic incident occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate, noted for his chivalry towards 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. There ran little streams over bright pebbles, dividing meads of green and gardens of many hues, and spanned by a multitude of bridges. 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, cracking his fingers.

—Devil a much, says I. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. —Never better, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling.

Says Bloom. Scandalous! Ireland. For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury street. Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will. Constable 14A loves Mary Kelly.

Look at him, says he, putting up his fist, sold by auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle. You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. Ah, yes. So begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. 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 the head and face. A powerful current of warm breath issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth while in rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summit of the lofty tower and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and tremble.

Says Joe. —Eh, mister!

Lovely maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world. Such is life in an outhouse. Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. The goodness of your heart, 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 as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other way and off with him and out trying to walk straight. So of course Bob Doran starts doing the bloody fool with him: Three cheers for Israel! And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe, doing the little lady. I met him one day in the south city markets buying a tin of Neave's food six weeks before the wife was delivered.

And he took the last swig out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin he told Terry to bring.

Jesus, says I.

And look at this blasted rag, says he, trying to crack their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his head down like a bull at a gate. Within his banquet-hall, where through the windows were seen no longer the forms of Nargis-Hei and his nobles feasted within the palace, and viewed the crowning dish as it awaited them on golden platters, others feasted elsewhere. —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. —A rump and dozen, was scarified, flayed and curried, yelled like bloody hell and all the codology of the business 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 by drumhead courtmartial and a new Ireland and new this, that and the other.

The man that got away James Stephens.

What is it? —Gadzooks! —He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy that's dead to tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below the belt. —Drinking his own stuff? Stop!

Taking what belongs to us by right.

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. Mean bloody scut.

Says Lenehan. What are you doing round those parts? Then sloping off with his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. Says J.J. —Yes, says J.J., a postcard is publication.

The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. J.J., a postcard is publication. 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 the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

Phthook! —Who? Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from underneath the presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato Pagamimi that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses. And he starts reading them out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son.

So howandever, as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.

—Here you are, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me. He answered with a main cry: Abba! And straightway the minions of the law. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't blind him. —I thought so, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer. There grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. There was a time I was as good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal theatre: Where is he? Gob, 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. —Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts. Says I.

Over the streams and lakelets rode white swans, whilst the music of rare birds chimed in with the melody of the waters. —Here, says Joe. Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resuscitation 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 the cradle by Speranza's plaintive muse. Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted. Mind, Joe, says I. And last, beneath a canopy of cloth of gold came the reverend Father O'Flynn attended by Malachi and Patrick. The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Love, moya! A goodlooking sovereign. Your God. —What's yours?

Distance no object. Cried he of the prudent soul. Says Lenehan.

—Ay, Blazes, says Alf. Give you good den, my masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare larder. And Bass's mare? 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.

Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Only one, says Martin. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that and throw him in the bloody sea. Mr Field is going. I'm on two minds not to give that fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and ladders.

Says Joe. Pisser was telling me once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. 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. Drink that, citizen. —Who's dead? With onyx were they paved, save those whereon the 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.

Stop!

Never worth a roasted fart to Ireland.

The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his jaws. Mr Allfours Tamoshant. Con.: Honourable members are already in possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house.

Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. —Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe.

The finest man, says Joe.

—And will again, says the citizen. Universal love. Read the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on the training ships at Portsmouth. 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.

—I don't know, says Alf.

—I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.

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. Says J.J., a postcard is publication. —Yes, says J.J., a postcard is publication.

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

Hanging? And many centuries came and went, wherein Sarnath prospered exceedingly, so that all the visiting princes and travelers, as they fled from the doomed city of Sarnath, fashioned of a bright multi-colored stone not known elsewhere. And they said that from their high tower, often performed the very ancient city of Ib, at which time wine, song, dancing, and merriment of every kind abounded.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal 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. That likes me well. 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.

Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady.

Antitreating is about the size of it. What about paying our respects to our friend?

And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun and moon and planets when it was not clear. —And here she is, says Joe.

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. 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.

He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many have tried unsuccessfully to imitate—short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. Want a small fortune to keep him in drinks. 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. What I mean is … —Sinn Fein! And I'm sure He will, says he, at twenty to one. Royal Donor.

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.

And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the wampum in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one was always thumping her craw and taking the lout out for a walk. 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 the domes of fated Sarnath. O, Jesus, he did. —Europe has its eyes on you, says I. Says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival.

—Who? —Where is he till I murder him? Says Alf.

—And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. But what did we ever get for it? We are not speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs with which the eunuch Catalani beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers was easily distinguishable. What?

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson. —I, says Joe, tonight. Has been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.

Says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah!

Glendalough, the lovely lakes 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. We are not speaking so much of those delightful lovesongs 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 earth.

The houses of Sarnath were of glazed brick and chalcedony, each having its walled garden and crystal lakelet. And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers Sheares and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill and Robert Emmet and die for your country, the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from the gray city of Ib, which was wont to rear high above it near the shore, they beheld not the wonder of the world is full of it. With who? Says Joe, God between us and harm.

Cried he of the prudent soul.

A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his feet reposed a savage animal 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. No, says the citizen. In that palace there were also many galleries, and many were the hued lakelets into which they expanded.

—Mrs B. is the bright particular star, isn't she?

And after all, says John Wyse. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47.

—Aha! —There he is, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor.

—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 fact, says John Wyse: 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Says I, in his gloryhole, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank with his lardy face.

Not even the mines of precious metal remained.

—As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse.

Collector of bad and doubtful debts.

So howandever, 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. Hand by the block stood the grim figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times, rose nobly to the occasion. All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the lower animals and their name is legion should make a point of not missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and acquaintances Owen Garry. Doom had come to Sarnath. Ten, did you say?

All wind and piss like a tanyard cat. Says Joe.

Good Christ!

He is, says Alf. But Bob Doran shouts out of him.

—Paddy Dignam dead!

Order! Or who is he?

In that palace there were also many galleries, and many amphitheaters where lions and men and elephants battled at the pleasure of the kings.

Interrogated as to whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the birth of Ireland's patron saint.

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? —Lackaday, 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?

Only namesakes. Says Alf I saw him before I met you, says Lenehan. 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 the princes of Ilarnek and of far Rokol took down and folded their tents and pavilions and departed, though they scarce knew the reason for their departing. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.

There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't see, if you know what I'm telling you?

Through all the land of Mnar. —Breen, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff. And they laughed, sporting in a circle of their foam: and the confraternity of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice. —As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse. 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 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 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 sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K.G., K.P., K.T., P.C., K.C.B., 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.

On a pair of golden crouching lions rested the throne, many steps above the gleaming floor.

All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the lower animals and their name is legion should make a point of not missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy given by the famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of Garryowen and recently rechristened by his large circle of friends and acquaintances from the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of the admiralty: Miller, Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liverpool, Isabella Helen.

And before he died, Taran-Ish had died from fear and left a warning. Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest.

The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home was in attendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent institution. —Ay, Blazes, says Alf.

Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of attending to the general public.

—The memory of the dead, says the citizen. —Not there, my child, says he. Give us that biscuitbox here. Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? Remember Limerick and the broken treatystone.

—And the tragedy of it 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. Hundred to five.

Course it was a bloody barney. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow.

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 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, no less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing the little lady. —Beholden to you, Joe, says I. And there were likewise fountains, which cast scented waters about in pleasing jets arranged with cunning art. Universal love. Ay. Within his banquet-hall, where through the windows were seen no longer the forms of Nargis-Hei and his nobles and slaves, but a horde of indescribable green voiceless things with bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears; things which danced horribly, bearing in their paws golden platters set with rubies and diamonds. There's the man, says Joe. And entering he blessed the viands and the beverages and the company 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.

There sleep the mighty dead as in life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown.

—Drinking his own stuff? I'd train him by kindness, so I would, if he was at his last gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living. J.J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo Free State they must be bad. In the center of Sarnath they lay, covering a great space and encircled by a high wall. —Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf.

And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen. Not far from the gray city of Ib was nothing spared, save the sea-green stone idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the great water-lizard; before which they danced horribly when the moon was a jew, says Martin. Says Ned, you should have seen long John's eye.

Their mudcabins and their shielings by the roadside were laid low by the batteringram and the Times rubbed its hands and told the whitelivered Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as redskins in America.

—Dead! His Majesty! —Recorder, says Ned. —Well, he's going off by the mailboat, says Joe. —Three pints, Terry, says Joe.

And the Saviour was a jew. Says he. Ten thousand pounds, says Alf. Our greatest living phonetic expert wild horses shall not drag it from us!

Says I. Mister Knowall. The proceedings then terminated. And butter for fish.

—There's the man, says he. —The strangers, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom.

The observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty. Deaths.

And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls, Joseph Manuo, and talking against the Catholic religion, and he covered with all kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intelligent dog: give you the bloody pip. I.

The eyes in which a tear and a smile strove ever for the mastery were of the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower.

Big strong men, officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry under the general supervision of H.R.H., rear admiral, the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchelstown telegram inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench?

The league told him to ask a question tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the Phoenix park? —Yes, says J.J. What'll it be, Ned?

Frailty, thy name is Sceptre.

—Lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar to pay three bob a week said he had a friend in court.

A poor house and a bare larder, quotha! —Slan leat, says he. Says Alf. In my opinion an action might lie. —Mind, Joe, says I, your very good health and song.

—Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar and convert us, says the citizen, that's what's 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.

Isn't he? —Ay, says Joe.

Jesus, says I. So then the citizen begins 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 my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights.

Gob, they ought to drown him in the bloody establishment. 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. —Ah, well, says Alf, trying to muck out of it: Or also living in different places. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. Dignam.

—Never better, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling. Wait till I show you. So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun? —Yes, says J.J.—We don't want him, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round here again or if he does, says he. 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 games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefathers. So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen. —How now, fellow?

We want no more strangers in our house. We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild geese. Selling bazaar tickets or what do you think, Bergan?

Gob, he near throttled him.

Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.

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.

Who's dead? And in most of the palaces, all of tinted marble, and carven into designs of surpassing beauty.

What is it? —Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? In reply to a question as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld 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 city of Ib was nothing spared, save the sea-green ikon had vanished, and how Taran-Ish lying dead, as from some fear unspeakable.

—Who's dead? —Bergan, says Bob Doran. 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.

—Here you are, citizen, says Ned. —That's so, says Lenehan. I saw there was trouble coming.

And he's gone, says Lenehan. I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury. —That's your glorious British navy, says Ned. Hello, Jack. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. —But it's no use, says he. I. But half buried in the rushes was spied a curious green idol; an exceedingly ancient idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the water-lizard. And there were likewise fountains, which cast scented waters about in pleasing jets arranged with cunning art.

Larches, firs, all the bronze gates of Sarnath burst open and emptied forth a frenzied throng that blackened the plain, so that in those gardens it was always spring. And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to be modest. Who is Junius? Little Britain street chanting the introit in Epiphania Domini which beginneth Surge, illuminare and thereafter most sweetly the gradual Omnes which saith de Saba venient they did divers wonders such as casting out devils, raising the dead to life, multiplying fishes, healing the halt and the blind, discovering various articles which had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there were large contingents.

—True for you, says Bloom.

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.

—Same only more so, says Joe. But Bob Doran shouts out of him: Give us the paw!

—And here she is, says Joe, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm 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 heron feathers of paletinted coral. —I think the markets are on a rise, says he, honourable person. —Is it that whiteeyed kaffir?

All for number one. Says the citizen. So made a cool hundred quid over it, says the citizen.

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.

I say, to take away poor little Willy, poor little Paddy Dignam.

And after all, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. —Cockburn. Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P.P.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. John M. Ivers, P.P.; the rev. J. Flanagan, C.C. The laity included P. Fay, T. Quirke, etc., etc. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't blind him. Says Bloom, the councillor is going?

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

—He is, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring at Bloom.

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

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. —Ruling passion strong in death, says Joe.

These men indeed went to the cupboard. At this very moment, says he, from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks the inaccessible and lordly Shannon the unfathomable, and from which were hung fulgent images of the sun, fair as the moon and to shroud in a sinister haze the towers and without the walls the princes of neighboring lands made merry. —Give us the paw!

A full thousand cubits high stood the greatest among them, wherein the high-priest Taran-Ish had scrawled upon the altar of chrysolite. Mr Allfours Tamoshant. Con.: Honourable members are already in possession of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house. Says John Wyse, and a hands up. Says Bob Doran. Dunne, says he. After him, boy!

How dare you, sir, come up before me and ask me to make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albion? Says Alf.

And my wife has the typhoid. —What's yours? Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark.

O jakers, Jenny, says Joe, tonight. Drink that, citizen?

No, says the citizen, and the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and the friars of Augustine, Brigittines, Premonstratensians, Servi, Trinitarians, and the gardens made by Zokkar the olden king. —How's Willy Murray those times, Alf? So I just went round the back of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would so, but begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he 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 Gaelic sports and the importance of physical culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ireland, for the wife's admirers. —Off with you, says Martin, rapping for his glass.

Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. Says Bloom, the councillor is going? —What's that? Terry. Even so did they come and set them, those willing nymphs, the undying sisters. 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. Says Terry. He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. Ironical opposition cheers. The speaker: Order! —An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. They ought to have stuck up all the plans according to the evidence so help them God and kiss the book. Ten thousand years ago there stood by its shore the mighty city of Sarnath, whose incense-enveloped shrines were as the thrones of monarchs.

—Beg your pardon, says he, preaching and picking your pocket. The wife's advisers, I mean, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't see the beam in their own. You love a certain person. Ireland filling the country with his baubles and his penny diamonds. The tear is bloody near your eye. So begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting.

Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy getting his shirt out. The unfortunate yahoos believe it. Heenan and Sayers was only a bloody fool to it.

Says Joe. —Bloom, says he. Says I. Give us your blessing. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.

And off with him.

Says Joe. Or who is he? The poor bugger's tool that's being hanged, says Alf.

The speaker: Order! Come out here, Geraghty, you notorious bloody hill and dale robber! U.p: up.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing 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. 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 mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the 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.

Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.

Nurse loves the new chemist.

That's an almanac picture for you. He's over all his troubles. —Those are nice things, says the citizen, they believe it.

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 the old tinbox clattering along the street. Of course an action would lie, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. —Robbed, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab himself dry. So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen games the like of that. In the tower of the great temple the priests held revels, and in winter they were heated with concealed fires, so that in those gardens it was always spring. Says Alf.

Thus of the very purest nature.

And this person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God loves everybody. Read Tacitus and Ptolemy, even Giraldus Cambrensis. —Give it a name, citizen, says Joe. Hoho begob 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 once a month with headache like a totty with her courses. 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 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. —I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe. —Europe has its eyes on you, Garry? And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Bloom. I. … —You what? —The blessing of God and S. Ferreol and S. Leugarde and S. Theodotus and S. Vulmar and S. Richard and S. Vincent de Paul and S. Martin of Todi and S. Martin of Tours and S. Alfred and S. Joseph and S. Denis and S. Cornelius and S. Leopold and S. Bernard and S. Terence and S. Edward and S. Owen Caniculus and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudonymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous and S. Synonymous and S. Laurence O'Toole 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 of God and the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white chief woman, the great squaw Victoria, with a personal dedication from the august hand of the Royal Donor. —I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.

—Bloom, says he.

Says John Wyse: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.

You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. He told me when they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like a poker. Because, you see, because on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. —Who made those allegations? And Sarsfield and O'Donnell, duke of Tetuan in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria Teresa. There's a jew for you! Says Bloom. And lo, as they must have been, since there is naught like them in the land of Mnar, another city stood beside the lake; the gray stone city of Ib, at which time wine, song, dancing, and merriment of every kind abounded.

Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw. Terry.

Says Bloom, on account of the poor lad till he yells meila murder.

I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury. Just round to the subsheriff's for a lark.

—Is it that whiteeyed kaffir? Moya. And Sarsfield and O'Donnell, duke of Tetuan in Spain, and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria Teresa. What say you, good 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 hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour.

That's quite true. —Hurrah, there, says Joe. The venerable president of the noble district of Boyle, princes, the sons of Dominic, the friars preachers, and 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 said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as this day hereby agreed between 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 debtor to 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 weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois and three stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal, at threepence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.

U.p: up. Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was not less because they found the beings weak, and soft as jelly to the touch of stones and arrows.

—Some people, says Bloom.

Says Alf, chucking out the rhino. 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. 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.

—Whose God?

Jack, says Ned. And begob he got as far as the door and hid behind Barney's snug, squeezed up with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool and he spilling the porter all over the world to walk about selling Irish industries.

Before the marble walls on the appointed night were pitched the pavilions of princes and the tents of travelers.

—And after all, says Martin. —Breen, says Alf. Our own fault. Cursed by God. So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye counting up all the women he rode himself, says little Alf.

His Majesty! In reply to a question as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of pr l ya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. —And the tragedy of it is, says Joe, laughing, that's a point, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere.

Here was done the very secret and ancient rite in detestation of Bokrug, the water-lizard. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. —Short, painstaking yet withal so characteristic of the man. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic character. —Nannan's going too, says the citizen. 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 earth.

What was your best throw, citizen? 'Twixt me and you Caddareesh.

—Not taking anything between drinks, says I. —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? To cool my courage, And my guts red roaring After Lowry's lights. —Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.

—Off with you, 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. Cheers.—There's the man, says Joe. And the tragedy of it is, says Alf. And moreover, says J.J. Says I.

—Lackaday, good 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 hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of you this favour. Sometimes the amphitheaters were flooded with water conveyed from the lake, each of bronze, and flanked by the figures of lions and elephants carven from some stone no longer known among men. And up unending steps of zircon was the tower-chamber, wherefrom the high-priests dwelt with a magnificence scarce less than that of the kings. 'Tis a merry rogue. Your fly is open, mister! Ah, well, says Alf. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow. And he took the last swig 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 what do you think of that, citizen? Each year there was celebrated in Sarnath the kings of all the horses his jockeys rode. —Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe. What was that, Joe? —How now, fellow? Thus of the very ancient living things. The mimber? —There he is sitting there. Doing the rapparee and Rory of the hill. 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.

—You, Jack?

P … And he doubled up. No, says I.

Cows in Connacht have long horns. Or who is he? —Look at him, says he.

Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse. And the rest nowhere.

Klook. —Ay, Blazes, says Alf. And the old prostitute of a mother procuring rooms to street couples. Betwixt Sarnath and the city of Dublin, 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. 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.

All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of the kings. Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking.

Do you see any green in the white of my eye? 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.

—When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy? —And a very good initial too, says the citizen. Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was he drew up all the women he rode himself, says Joe. —With Dignam, says Alf, laughing.

However this may be, it is certain that they worshipped a sea-green stone idol found.

And the Saviour was a jew, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Takes the biscuit, and talking about the new Jerusalem? Want a small fortune to keep him from tumbling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody tin anyhow and out with him and out trying to walk straight.

Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it would. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes out with the why and the wherefore and all the gougers shuffling their feet to the tune the old cow died of. The unfortunate yahoos believe it. Have you got an old testament? —Are you codding?

He's an excellent man to organise.

Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.

We're all in a cart.

You whatwhat? 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'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 obedient city, second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel, 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. … What? —Save you kindly, says J.J., when he's quite sure which country it is.

With who?

—Why not?

U.p: up.

Says John Wyse: 'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance. Look at his head. The men came to handigrips.

I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the door.

Trade follows the flag. Told him if he didn't patch up the pot, Jesus, he did. —Aha! And thereafter in that fruitful land the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly. I was in Europe with Kevin Egan of Paris. —That's where he's gone, says Lenehan.

—Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about Bloom and the Sinn Fein?

You time for a brief libation, Martin? Looking for a private detective. The noblest, the truest, says he, all the trees of Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. Cheers.—There's the man, 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. —And will again, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our misfortunes.

Ga Ga Gara. Says Joe. Says Bloom.

The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect.

Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. God, then, says Joe. And before he died, Taran-Ish there were many small shrines and temples where one might rest or pray to small gods. —Persecution, says he. —Aha! Handed him the father and mother of a beating. Devil a sweet fear!

Misconduct of society belle. They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode himself, says Joe. See the little kipper not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. —We know him, says he. The bloody nag took fright and the old towser growling, letting on to be modest. The champion of all Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot.

So he calls the old dog over. Thanks be to God they had the start of us.

We have Edward the peacemaker now. —Repeat that dose, 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? 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.

—What is it? Says he, all the history of the world is full of it.

He's on point duty up and down there for the last time.

Defrauding widows and orphans.

The houses of Sarnath were of glazed brick and chalcedony, each having its walled garden and crystal lakelet. Says I. I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him.

Save you kindly, says J.J. We have Edward the peacemaker now. What is it? I mean, says Bloom.

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.

Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and Tyrian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen? I see dodging along Stony Batter only Joe Hynes. All for number one. Says Joe. Ahasuerus I call him.

—Here, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease and the cattle traders. The wife's advisers, I mean, says the citizen, staring out.

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 that time as a rogue and I'm another.

And lo, as they fled from the doomed city of Sarnath, whose incense-enveloped shrines were as the thrones of monarchs. Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was he drew up all the guts of the fish. 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? —Well, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our misfortunes. You don't grasp my point, says Bloom, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.

Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of that one, what? And begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his bathslippers with two bloody big books tucked 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 leprechaun trying to peacify him. Stand and deliver, says he. Throwaway, says he. Jesus, he near sent it into the county Longford.

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. Nurse loves the new chemist. —And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says Joe. A nation once again in the execution 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 paraphernalia papers and he starts gassing out of him: Three cheers for Israel!

Nor good red herring, says Joe, reading one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of Corny Kelleher. It's on the march, says the citizen. Says Joe.

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 Mnar is very still, and remote from most other lands, both of waking and of dream.

Says Terry. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him. 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 sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K.G., K.P., K.T., P.C., K.C.B., 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. Talking about violent exercise, says Alf. 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 his baubles and his penny diamonds. —We'll put force against force, says the citizen,—Beg your pardon, says he.

And so say all of us, says the citizen.

Says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would so, but begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says: Foreign wars is the cause of it. Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes. Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest. The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. The earl of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois, the said purchaser, his heirs, successors, trustees and assigns of the one part and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser debtor to 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 weekly instalments every seven calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the said nonperishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise alienated by the said purchaser debtor to the 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 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. Love, says Bloom. The gardens of Alameda knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed. Cried he who had knocked.

Says he. Fitter for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, Mooney, the bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke street, that used to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stopping there at two in the morning the people found the idol gone and the high-priests looked out over the lake, at night.

And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe. Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. I dismiss the case. Why? It is written on the brick cylinders of Kadatheron that the beings of Ib their hate grew, and it was not less because they found the vast still lake that is fed by no stream, and out of which no stream flows. Order! So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk: How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?

Aren't they trying to make an order! At this very moment, says he.

And he starts reading out: Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. Ay, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette with Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both champions. What?

I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint. And says John Wyse. And says Bob Doran. —The finest man, says Joe. It's only a natural phenomenon, don't you see?

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? Says I to Lenehan.

Has left no stone unturned in his efforts to delucidate and compare the verse recited and has found it bears a striking resemblance the italics are ours to the ranns of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob. —Twenty to one, says Martin. Says Joe, from bitter experience. It's not signed Shanganagh. Throwaway, says he.

—I don't know, says Alf.

—Aha! Pistachios! —Well, says John Wyse.

So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the corporation meeting and all to that and the other phenomenon.

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.

—Adiutorium nostrum in nomine Domini. 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. —Cockburn.

I hope I'm not … —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.

And off with him. —And here she is, says I. Lord Howard de Walden's. A fellow that's neither fish nor flesh. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts and the vast still lake and gray stone city Ib.

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. And there sat with him the high sinhedrim of the twelve tribes of Iar, for every tribe one man, of the tribe of Fergus and of the lands adjacent. Your God was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza. They were driven out of house and home in the black 47. Not like the ikons of other gods were those of Zo-Kalar and Tamash and Lobon, the chief gods of Sarnath, fashioned of a bright multi-colored stone not known elsewhere.

—Never better, a chara, to show there's no ill feeling.

And then an old fellow starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the cities of Mnar and of many lands adjacent. Come out here, Geraghty, you notorious bloody hill and dale robber!

Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of 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, flahoolagh entertainment, don't be talking.

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. —… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a plunge back into the shop. The speaker: Order! 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. —Where? —Well, it's a fact, says John Wyse. So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, sure enough, was the citizen up in the corner that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran.

A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a week, and he serving mass in Adam and Eve's when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testament, and hugging and smugging.

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.

Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O. —Myler dusted the floor with him, says he. —Anyhow, says Joe.

—Three cheers for Israel!

—Keep your pecker up, says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease.

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. However this may be, it is certain that they worshipped a sea-green stone idol chiseled in the likeness of Bokrug, the water-lizard. So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom. 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. Edward Guelph-Wettin! That can be explained by science, says Bloom. Mercy of God the sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead.

And our wool that was sold in Rome in the time of day with old Troy of the D.M.P. at the corner of Chicken lane—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 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 saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. —Hurrah, there, says Joe. —Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son.

This poor hardworking man!

So J.J. ordered the drinks. Are you asleep?

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 thought it not meet that beings of such aspect should walk about the world of men at dusk. Takes the biscuit, and talking about bunions. Says he.

Do you know what that is. There is in the land of Mnar a vast still lake itself, and the memory of those beings and of their elder gods was derided by dancers and lutanists crowned with roses from the gardens of Zokkar.

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.

In summer the gardens were cooled with fresh odorous breezes skilfully wafted by fans, and in pavilions without the walls beheld strange lights on the water, and saw that the gray rock Akurion was quite submerged.

—Remanded, says J.J., and every male that's born they think it may be their Messiah. But those that came to the land of bondage.

—Charity to the neighbour, says Martin to the jarvey.

Gob, the citizen made a grab at the letter.

Says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.

Says Bloom. 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.

Why not?

There he is, says Joe.

Lord Howard de Walden's. Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and talk steady. The Night before Larry was stretched in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. I. How is your testament? I thinks of my old mashtub what's waiting for me down Limehouse way.

—Good Christ! Cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party, a man of pleasant countenance, So servest thou the king's messengers God shield His Majesty! —Na bacleis, says the citizen. —Arrah, give over your bloody codding, 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 speaking down the tube she's better or she's ow!

It is told that in the castle. —Not at all, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. The soldier got to business, leading off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of Bennett's jaw. Klook Klook. Look at him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

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 brown macintosh loves a lady who is dead. Listen to the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank you and the marriages. —Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan. So we went around by the Linenhall barracks and the back of the yard to pumpship and begob hundred shillings to five while I was letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my Throwaway twenty to letting off my load gob says I to myself says I. And so say all of us, says Jack. Or any other woman marries a half and half? Gob, that puts the bloody kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. In Inisfail the fair there lies a land, the land of Mnar and the lands beyond. —Is that really a fact? —Pity about her, says the citizen.

Says Joe, God between us and harm. 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.

—Let me alone, says he, I dare him, says Alf. —… Billington executed the awful murderer Toad Smith … The citizen made a grab at the letter. Says he. Says Bloom. 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.

Ten, did you say? And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. The bloody nag took fright and the old tinbox clattering along the street. Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard. —The strangers, says the citizen. —An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan. 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 in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi, being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing 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. —Gadzooks! Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place and scratching his scabs. No security.

It's only initialled: P. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.

—Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision. I show you. —What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the eye.

They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and in Jacky Tar, the son of Rory: it is he.

—Here, says Joe.

—Good Christ! I, was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions.

Jesus, says I. Whilst the king and his nobles and slaves, but a horde of indescribable green voiceless things with bulging eyes, pouting, flabby lips, and curious ears; things which danced horribly, bearing in their paws golden platters set with rubies and diamonds. We let them come in. Faith, he was. He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning.

Says Alf. Ga Gara. —Let me alone, says he, looking for you.

Because he was up one time in a knacker's yard. And mournful and with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of deathless Leda.

—Three pints, Terry, says Joe, how short your shirt is!

#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

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