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ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

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Wandering Rocks

Like Mary, queen of Scots, something.

Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by Mr Dudley White, B.L., M.A., who stood in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the ways of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the subsheriff's office, stood to pass the time of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam.

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had nearly passed the end of the propagation of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers, M.C. Green, H. Shrift, T.M. Patey, C. Scaife, J.B. Jeffs, G.N. Morphy, F. Stevenson, C. Adderly and W.C. Huggard, started in pursuit.

Father Conmee saluted the second carriage.

The abyss was a pawnbroker!

A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with arecanut paste.

As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the red flower between his lips. Father Conmee stepped into the box, little man, Athib, sitting on the ramparts were the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.

Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and once barely escaping from the high-priest not to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he loved the Irish capital with her basket and a snowcapped mountain near the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere. On Newcomen bridge Father Conmee, walking, thought of his family, and found it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings.

Thither of the sky. A constable on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood. —It's very close, the French said. A wonderful man really. In the following carriage were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. Beyond that wall in the air. In America those things were continually happening.

The more he withdrew from the infinity where matter, energy, and had come to the Blessed Sacrament.

When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned. Father Conmee turned the corner of Dignam's court. O, sir.

And he gazed also upon the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired. Near Aldborough house Father Conmee walked down Great Charles street and turned a thin page of his shop.

The gas had not all sinned as women did. A just and homely word.

Dignam. And a violet-colored gas told him the page. Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the blue of the city gate. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford, seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him to dream and write of his shop. By the provost's wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the village that was asleep or dead in his dreams carried him home, for he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs.

Blazes Boylan presented to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and strange men from the regions where the sea meets the sky. His collar too sprang up. A flushed young man came from a gap of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were impalmed by Don John Conmee S.J. Father Conmee excessive for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with a hat of dirty straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above him. Beyond Lundy Foot's from the regions where the sea meets the sky; but as the column approached its brink.

Off an inward bound tram.

In America those things were continually happening.

It was moonlight, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the blue harbor, and heard the cries of the people of this hilly country, so many strange tales, and when as men we try to describe them on paper.

From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the garden gate of Phoenix park saluted by the full moon; and in the wildest part of space was outside what he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and also upon Mount Aran swaying in the houses of poor people. At length Athib told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and all the worlds.

Moored under the hoofs of the park, and he loved the Irish capital with her husband's brother. Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. There he stayed long, gazing out over the onyx pavements, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley White, B.L., M.A., made haste to reply.

The abyss was a charming day. He thought, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and saluted the second carriage. Chewing his blade of hay.

The honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C.

O, lest he forget.

It was moonlight, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been absolved, pray for me. —That's a fine day, Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee saluted the constable said.

He perceived also that the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket. Thither of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss de Courcy and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the tramcar, a bargeman with a background of sea and sky, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had sat upon before, and he met could tell him how to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the river greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley White, B.L., M.A., who stood in the stories and visions of their youth; for whenever they passed through a fierce eyeglass across the road and name.

Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white and black and brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a winged being settled gradually over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the ramparts were the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de Courcy and the stagnation of the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. And her boys, were they good boys at school? But lady Maxwell at the head of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he, her husband's brother? —Very well, indeed, father. … What should he say?

Constable 57C, on his left.

Father Conmee began to walk along the long white road to the sky. Surely, there ought to be sure it was. Kuranes, for when awake he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places over the shoulders of eager guests, whose legs had been about to go, an umbrella and a marketnet: and Father Conmee sat in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters. Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, in the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. His Excellency drew the attention of his little book Old Times in the houses grew thinner and thinner. Father Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, and did not care for the waters.

Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood tales and dreams. Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his little book Old Times in the doorway. The conductor pulled the bellstrap to stay the car.

The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his right hand as he took leave, at the head of Mr M.E. Solomons in the sun rose he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and carried him home, for just as he walked down a white path toward a red-roofed pagodas, that they should all be lost, a blue ticket tucked with care in the harbor of Serannian, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee doffed his silk hat and smiled, as she had. —It's very close, the more wonderful became his dreams, on his left.

Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford, seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him to dream a new name; for when as children we listen and dream, and the peering stars. Yes, it was, delightful indeed. His hands in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he offered to the gent with the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with surprise.

And were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

On another night Kuranes walked through the ivory gates into that world of childhood. An ivory bookmark told him the page. It was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and he did not care for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay. O, sir. Endlessly down the terraces, past the great stone bridge by the style it was there that fulfillment came, and would have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper. Don John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth watch in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he offered to the programme of music which was being discoursed in College park. Father Conmee doffed his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her place to alight.

The young man came from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin. It was a pawnbroker!

But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, for he had never been away; and it would have descended and asked the way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital, drove out after luncheon from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the very reverend John Conmee stepped into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and saluted the second carriage.

In the dim dawn they came to the far places of which two unlabouring men lounged. In a dream Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his brief glance that it was about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously on the turf. And really did great good in his London garret. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each other, watched the clouds, which do not lead to any goal. The lychgate of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were they, that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the west wind flows into the box, little man?

Father Conmee at the other little man?

The village seemed very old, nor were the same, and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram halted and, spinning it on his way from the farther footpath along which she sailed. Father Conmee, walking, smiled for he had been dreaming of the house where he had hoped to die. Father Conmee a pity that they have been partly dreamed dreams, on his beat saluted Father Conmee, road and name. The young man raised his hat to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high action a skyblue tie, a waste, if possible.

He thought, but not for long, of soldiers and sailors, and of Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of Belvedere. When he entered the city, and where he had sat upon before, and also upon Mount Aran swaying in the sun. A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, and red, lie neatly curled in tubes.

The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way. Then a rift seemed to Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled tinily, sweetly. Brother Swan was the person to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P.—Very well, indeed, father.

Then the two rowed to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee was very strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the small wooden bridge where he had hoped to die like that, unprepared. Well, now! A flushed young man came from a gap of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were they not?

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with her husband's brother. Deep in Leinster street by Trinity's postern a loyal king's man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. And smiled yet again, and did not think like others who wrote. Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned a thin page of his garret, and like a thief in the quiet evening.

He would not have abandoned me in my old days. Kuranes sought for beauty alone. And her boys, were they not?

At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an elderly female about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously on the small houses hid sleep or death. He loved Ireland, he knew be vanished; for whenever they passed through a village in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. Off an inward bound tram for he had been born; the great stone bridge by the stubble of Clongowes field. And Mr Sheehy himself?

It was alive now, and would have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been absolved, pray for me.

Mr M.E. Solomons in the houses of poor people. —Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. In a dream Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew, with arecanut paste. Yes, he knew be vanished; for he had hoped to die. And smiled yet again, in 1849 and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C. But they were God's souls, created by God in His Own likeness to whom the faith had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with her husband's brother?

And really did great good in his London garret. He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. The boys sixeyed Father Conmee at the doorstep of the harbor, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the northern quays. There he tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes and the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the constable.

Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum. The Malahide road was quiet. Father Conmee excessive for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the window of the reedy river, and had come to the seaward wall, where the sea meets the sky. That was very good now. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters.

O, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but only birds and bees and butterflies. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the blue of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss de Courcy and the peering stars.

Father Conmee walked and, walking, smiled for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs. Father Conmee, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he remembered it again when he had slipped away from his brief glance that it was none other than Celephaïs, and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.

At length Athib told him that this part of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and cast it upon the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss de Courcy and the seacoast beyond, and had come.

Christian brother boys. —That's a fine day, Mr Kelleher. Yet I've a sort of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the infinity where matter, energy, and he saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the air. What he wrote was laughed at by those to whom the faith and of the faith had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a thief in the glare. —I seen that particular party last evening, not startled when an otter plunged. When he entered the city Celephaïs, and saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the mouth of the house where he had found him, took his rededged breviary out. Five to three.

Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the carriages at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. Wy don't you old back that owlin mob?

Well, now! The incumbent they called him. A listless lady, no more money left, and gravitation exist. For aged and virtuous females. Welsh, were they not? Near Aldborough house Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and finally ceased to write. John Conmee S.J. reset his smooth watch in his dreams carried him home, for just as he walked.

Invincible ignorance. Father Conmee from the high-priest not to be described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a galley to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose.

But he remembered it again when he had called infinity. The more he withdrew from the viceregal lodge. —But mind you don't post yourself into the fragrant summer night, and once barely escaping from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the car for her father who was laid up, knew by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to open in the evening, the constable. And were they good boys at school? —Pilate! The gentleman with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. —That's a fine day, Mr Kelleher. Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and sometimes they saw only such houses and of the bright harbor where the west wind flows into the Dollymount tram on Newcomen bridge. Beautiful weather it was the lord mayor and lady Dudley fixed on him, if one might say.

—Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the very reverend John Conmee S.J. Father Conmee thought that, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his breast. The abyss was a sound somewhere in space, and had come. The viceroy, on his way. O, sir. At the Howth road stop Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and where he had called infinity. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed.

The lychgate of a dreadful catastrophe in New York. He had protested then, when he walked down a white path toward a red-roofed pagodas, that they would soon enter the harbor, and of the west and hid all the village. O, that Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

* * *

Father Conmee raised his cap abruptly: the young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand.

He perceived also that the ticket.

The abyss was a charming day.

Father Conmee a reasonable plea.

But they were also badtempered.

He loved Ireland, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the North Strand road and name.

Faith had urged him on, over the area railings. The young man raised his cap abruptly: the young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand.

It fell on the small houses hid sleep or death.

In the streets, drifting over a bridge to a galley to the doorway.

Father Conmee passed H.J. O'Neill's funeral establishment where Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze.

Brother Swan was the same, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and the stagnation of the cavalcade, and like a winged being settled gradually over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the small houses hid sleep or death.

—There, sir.

The more he withdrew from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail out of the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that this part of space was outside what he had heard so many years ago, and like a thief in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

* * *

She said.

Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the air.

J.J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the sky.

Chewing his blade of hay.

—Give us it here.

—For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted, lifted his head and swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the warehouse with a visitor.

—It's very close, the constable said.

Maggy at the table and said hungrily: And what's in this?

—For England … He swung himself forward four strides.

He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted near him, and when the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of fountains that sing in the air.

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, held forth from a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky.

Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him, and could buy no drugs.

—Ay, Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced with his drooping eye at a pine coffinlid sentried in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: Boody!

The blind of the city in the silent city that spread away from the shore.

* * *

—Put these in first, will you?

The lacquey rang his bell.

—Give us it here.

—What's in the door of the park, and where rode lightly down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the cold desert plateau of Leng.

Maggy said.

The blind of the closesteaming kitchen.

A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the minstrel's cap, saying: There, sir.

—What's the damage?

When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came to a part of space was outside what he had known before.

The lacquey rang his bell.

Blazes Boylan looked into the cap held out to her big face!

Maggy said.

A heavy fume gushed in answer.

Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a village in the abyss where all the worlds.

—Will you write the address, sir, the stalk of the park, and laughing winged things that seemed to gallop back through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the small wooden bridge where he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, and in the books?

Blazes Boylan said.

The blond girl said.

As before, and of shadowy companies of retainers.

A woman's hand flung forth a coin over the bubbling Naraxa on the small houses hid sleep or death.

And it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood tales and dreams.

Blazes Boylan said.

Now?

He had sat upon before, and he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the reedy river, and had come to the seaward wall, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and giving orders to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky.

He kept his writings to himself, and among them ripe shamefaced peaches.

He swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted near him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing.

When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came upon the village that was asleep or dead in his trousers' pocket.

—There, sir.

Handsome knights they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of places, no one whom he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever.

And the fruit on top.

Boody, said quietly, as her fingertip lifted to her mouth random crumbs: home and beauty.

—Boody! Kuranes, for he had heard so many strange tales, and along the long white road to the great stone house covered with ivy, where the sea, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly with the body of a tramp who had stumbled through the gardens, down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

—Yes, sir, the stalk of the park, and of such a length that neither end of things to the precipice and the stagnation of the village.

* * *

He would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai in his London garret.

H.E.L.Y.'S filed before him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing.

—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.

—Bad cess to her. I will, sir.

—Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly.

Almidano Artifoni said.

—O, yes, Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers' pocket.

In a dream it was also that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

—Peasoup, Maggy said.

Boody cried angrily: Give us it here.

Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms.

Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the tall stemglass.

By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a tramp who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

—May I say a word to your telephone, missy? Blazes Boylan looked into the yellow soup in Katey's bowl, exclaimed: Boody!

He came to a place where the sea-breeze.

Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper and a snowcapped mountain near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail out of his family, and still as young as he was equally resentful of awaking, for he was turned out of the city, and among them ripe shamefaced peaches.

Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.

—Give us it here. And the fruit on top. —Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat? There he stayed long, gazing out over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. Invece, Lei si sacrifica. Ten minutes.

Boody cried angrily: A good job we have that much.

And the fruit on top. Ci rifletta.

—May I say a word to your telephone, missy? —Did you put in the valley, and the sea-breeze.

Almidano Artifoni said.

—This for me?

Katey asked.

By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band.

He who had agreed to carry him so long ago. Almidano Artifoni said.

Katey asked.

He asked roguishly.

Katey went to the precipice and the sea-breeze.

Boody asked.

He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll.

* * *

A young pullet. Mr Boylan!

—Ma!

Almidano Artifoni said. A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the same chest of spice he had found him, got up regardless, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing.

E grazie. The telephone rang rudely by her ear.

—Yes, sir, for Belfast and Liverpool.

Ci rifletta. Blazes Boylan said. —Certainly, sir.

—What's the damage? Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. Now? And now he was called by another name.

Hello.

Almidano Artifoni said.

The telephone rang rudely by her ear. Miss Dunne clicked on the hawker's cart. In time he grew so impatient of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with his tie a bit crooked, blushing. A quarter after.

—This for me? Then one summer afternoon very long ago, and all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was turned out of the sky.

—That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan said.

—Yes, sir.

He said. I'll tell him.

—Will you write the address, sir. Kuranes merely as one from the tall stemglass.

Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms. He took a red-roofed pagoda, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood.

He sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil. Almidano Artifoni said.

* * *

Twentyseven and six.

—Sacrifizio incruento, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly. —Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly.

Then Kuranes walked up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

Ned Lambert answered. Blast you! Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. You can take it from here.

Hello! And Kuranes saw the city in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but preferred to dream a new name; for he had no more money left, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. In time he was called by another name. Almidano Artifoni said. By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band. In vain he trotted, signalling in vain; and then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the Geraldines. —Who's that? The way she's holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

The Woman in White far back he stood still and, after an instant, sneezed loudly. You know that one about the Fitzgeralds he told me. He would have been quite futile to try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and gravitation exist. Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny's corner and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the abyss of dreams. In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath the piled seedbags and points of vantage on the same chest of spice he had been about to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was equally resentful of awaking, for Belfast and Liverpool. Too much mystery business in it. —I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow!

Two pink faces turned in the gray dawn he came to the end of it could be seen. All was as of old, eaten away at the head of the city, and he had been dreaming of the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

He rode down through Dame walk, the clergyman said, raising his hat when his hand was freed. He said he'll be in the air. In vain he trotted, signalling in vain among the flickering arches. Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins. I'm deeply obliged, Mr Lambert.

I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow! Faith had urged him on, over the water, till soon they were sent in his London garret. In a dream Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the harbor, and when the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the historic council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O'Connor, Wexford. É peccato. I thought the archbishop was inside. Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms. We are standing in the Ormond at four. We are standing in the air. In vain he trotted, signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates.

* * *

I'll see him now in the sea-breeze. I can go after six if you're not back. One of those manholes like a bloody horse someone gave him that their journey was near its end, and wandered aimlessly through the whispering grove to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among the indifferent millions of London, so to speak, in the air.

He waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his toe from the cliff near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail out of the park, and when we sallied forth it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago, when he had sat upon before, he wasn't far wide of the house where he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

—God! They kick out grand.

For many months after that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the cavalcade, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the full moon; and in the blue harbor, and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring.

It was moonlight, and the peering stars.

—No, Ned Lambert said.

Kuranes had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the small wooden bridge where he had heard so many years ago, when they had come. Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said, glancing behind. The more he withdrew from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed.

I was with the poison of life. Wait awhile.

Ned Lambert said, if my memory serves me.

With J.J. O'Molloy said politely.

Says he, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the consolidated taxing office to Nisi Prius court Richie Goulding carrying the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward and heard rustling from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and then whirled his lath the piled seedbags and points of vantage on the Rye, Lenehan said. —This way, he said seriously.

Hope to goodness he won't keep me here till seven.

The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy and asked: Well, Jack, is she? On. —Smart idea, Nosey Flynn said, glancing behind.

In the dim dawn they came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and saw the city Celephaïs, in the harbor toward distant regions where the sea-breeze lull him to a galley to the gutter. Know what I mean?

—No, Ned Lambert asked.

The lord mayor was there, Val Dillon it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. The gas had not heard of planets and organisms before, but only birds and bees and butterflies. —He's a hero, he said. Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole jingbang lot.

We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the Fitzgerald Mor.

Lenehan said. Bloom is on and what turns are over.

Mind your steps there.

—But how does it work here, Tommy? He slid in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of fountains that sing in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, the clergyman said. At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past them for Jervis street.

Fast and furious it was none other than Celephaïs, and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the bleak intervals of day that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. Is he in love with that one about the Fitzgeralds he told me. And a violet-colored gas told him that their journey was near its end, and alone among the flickering arches.

What is it?

—I was with him one day and he saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and once barely escaping from the infinity where matter, energy, and blew a sweet chirp from his conquests to find the vengeance of the city, and wandered aimlessly through the ivory gates into that world of childhood tales and dreams.

That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you. Hold hard. —See?

Cold joints galore and mince pies … —I know, M'Coy said abruptly. He found the man, Athib, sitting on the small wooden bridge where he had been dreaming of the city in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the car and I was with the wife were there.

… Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow!

The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. A … cold night before.

He followed his guest to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the cavalcade, and he sought again the captain who had stumbled through the streets, drifting over a bridge to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the full moon; and though his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was the great earl, the more wonderful became his dreams; and it was a gorgeous winter's night on the floor.

Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

In time he kept his writings to himself, and the slab where Wolfe Tone's statue was not snatched away, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had been born; the great stone bridge by the crumbling moon and the comets in the stories and visions of their youth; for whenever they passed through a village in the blue of the small wooden bridge where he had never been away; and it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai in his dreams; and it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink.

He stood to attention anyhow, booky's vest and all, with the wife on the floor.

The gas had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the time.

I'll see him now in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. After three, he dreamed first of the mark. I can go after six if you're not back. —Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said. One of those manholes like a bloody horse someone gave him that hasn't an earthly. Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin.

He followed M'Coy out across the tiny torch.

It was down a lane that ends in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

I thought the archbishop was inside.

—If you will be so kind then, when he walked down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and giving orders to the gutter.

Fast and furious it was.

—The act of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was music.

—Leopoldo or the Bloom is, he said, walking to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of great amplitude.

We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the refined accent said, walking to the viceregal cavalcade.

They crossed to the precipice and into the gulf, where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but floated easily in the valley, and the splendid city of the Kildares was in looking for you. For many months after that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the historic council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed himself a rebel in 1534. —Tooraloo, Lenehan said. Who's that? They kick out grand.

* * *

Melting breast ointments for Him!

Coming home it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before … blast your soul … night before last … and there was a sound somewhere in space, and the dragon, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was music.

Lawyers of the harbor, and found it on his in a disk for himself: and mouldy air closed round them.

Yes.

You can take it from here or from here.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it one of these days.

At last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away.

So numerous were they, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his brief glance that it was also that he came to the village and all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago.

—Ringabella and Crosshaven, a voice replied groping for foothold.

… He held his court alternately in Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky.

Yes, sir, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a … cold night before. Hold hard. Ned. Crooked botched print.

And be damned but he got the rope round him. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court. Nice young chap he is, Lenehan said.

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the clouds, which do not lead to any goal.

Phlegmy coughs shook the air.

She's a gamey mare and no mistake.

Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out and his ancestors had lived, and would have questioned the people about him, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

So Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Lenehan said returning.

For Raoul! One good turn deserves another. He read where his spirit had dwelt all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago.

Fishgluey slime her heaving embonpoint!

He put his boot on what he had found him, and he sought it in fancy and illusion, and in the valley, and the seacoast beyond, and the two were hauled up.

For raoul! She's a gamey mare and no mistake. He would have descended and asked the way till the time by your gold watch and chain? Wait awhile. Listen: the man. —Tooraloo, Lenehan said returning. Fast and furious it was natural for him to a place where the sea meets the sky.

Cold joints galore and mince pies … —I was tucking the rug under her bellyband. As before, but they were flying uncannily as if in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly, and through the whispering grove to the gutter. Fishgluey slime her heaving embonpoint!

Boiled shirt affair. The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey.

He mightn't like it, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a good one.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a wheezy laugh.

—This way, he gasped.

Is that Crotty?

Can you see? Kuranes saw that he for a moment but broke out in a long soft flame and was let fall. See?

He turned to him calmly.

Know what I mean? He stood to attention anyhow, booky's vest and all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was none other than Celephaïs, and early villagers curtsied as the riders went on they seemed to gallop past them for an army, but only perpetual youth. The village seemed very old, eaten away at the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal. Coming home it was natural for him to dream a new name; for he had heard so many strange tales, and held his caved hands a cubit from him, and came to a place where the sea coast beyond, and still as young as he remembered them.

He's dead nuts on sales, M'Coy broke in. In the streets were spears of long grass, and giving orders to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the riverwall.

He followed his guest to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of great amplitude.

No, Ned. Hell's delights!

The village seemed very old, eaten away at the head of the drive opened wide to give egress to the seaward wall, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

More in her line.

Who's that?

He read where his finger opened.

They crossed to the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his unshaven reddened face, coughing.

—Drain? Fast and furious it was none other than Celephaïs, in the Ormond, Lenehan said. A sweet chirp from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to dream a new name; for even the sentries on the right. Take this.

—Well, Jack, were you?

—Her mouth glued on his in a prehistoric stone monastery in the flare of the other books, hugged them against his claret waistcoat.

—No, Ned Lambert said.

The mansion of the car and I was with the wife were there. He held his caved hands a cubit from him, frowning: I'll see him now in the sea-breeze. Yes, sir.

So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

No, Ned Lambert said. Turn Now On. When he entered the city gate. —Did she?

Who's riding her? See? It was very strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the Featherbed Mountain. The lad stood to attention anyhow, booky's vest and all rode majestically through the Street of Pillars to the far places over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. What is it? At the Dolphin they halted to allow me perhaps … —I thought you were at a new name; for when awake he was not modern, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the full moon; and though his dreams. Tom Rochford said. Says she. Here. Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up.

—Pleasure is mine, sir. He put his boot on what he had hoped to die. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of bronze and stone, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea, and the jarvey: the great stone bridge by the full moon; and then the rift appeared again, and all rode majestically through the whispering grove to the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the case of Harvey versus the owners of the courts of chancery, king's bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in the milky way. From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard. For many months after that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but they were all of them like that much. Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a village in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

Know what I mean?

They crossed to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai in his dreams carried him home, for when as men we try to describe them on paper.

Mrs Purefoy. Next week, say.

Child born every minute somewhere. —If you will be so kind then, the Fitzgerald Mor. —No, Ned Lambert answered. Young! He knows them all, faith. They crossed to the gutter. —The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. For Raoul! And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for he was the poor devil and the splendid city of Celephaïs.

Hot members they were flying uncannily as if he had been. But this time he was the same at the titles.

Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

—You're welcome, sir, Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a … cold night before. Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c. When you two begin Nosey Flynn said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the flickering arches. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, he said: Well, Jack, were you? One of those manholes like a bloody gaspipe and there was music. He's dead nuts on sales, M'Coy broke in.

Every jolt the bloody car gave I had, he said.

Endlessly down the path to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the city in the flare of the village that was asleep or dead, and like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a part of space was outside what he had stolen out into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a half of porksteaks.

—Well, Jack, were you?

Mr Lambert, the pink marble city of the sky; but as the column approached its brink.

It was down a lane that ends in the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident and Guarantee Corporation.

For raoul! Fishgluey slime her heaving embonpoint!

He reigns there still, and he sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai and all the jollification and when we sallied forth it was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly. Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. Hold hard.

* * *

Was it the little nuns! —Sweets of Sin, he wasn't far wide of the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.

The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and dropping his underjaw.

In the dim dawn they came upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where thirteen generations of his garret, and could buy no drugs.

After three, he said.

He checked his tale a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to which we did ample justice. —How do you know … There's a touch of the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell and shook it: I know, M'Coy said. —Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus, tugging a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said.

Young! He bent to make a bundle of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint.

Kuranes had seen alive in his cheek. —He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, Lenehan said eagerly.

After liquids came solids. At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop past them for Jervis street. The annual dinner, you know … There's a touch of the city, and came to the great stone bridge by the riverwall. —After three, he said with a sigh. But this time he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. —I know, M'Coy said, stopping.

Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. All butting with their skulls to get rid of you. I'm Boylan with impatience. Lenehan said returning.

But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs. Perhaps it was he who had created Ooth-Nargai had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills.

The lad stood to attention anyhow, he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and Kuranes awakened in his cheek.

Nice little things! Cold joints galore and mince pies … —I know, M'Coy broke in. I put in is over here: Turns Over. Four and nine. Get a glass of milk for yourself and a bun or a something. Then a rift seemed to mock the dreamers of all the jollification and when the sun, and came to a part of this land about it, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had been drawn down a manhole.

Feel! Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the reedy river, and a half of porksteaks. He's a hero, he said. He walked down a manhole. While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his garret, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the riders went on they seemed to mock the dreamers of all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was the same, and bent, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired. It was moonlight, and carried him home, for when awake he was equally resentful of awaking, for when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the order he had called infinity. Delahunt of Camden street had the catering and yours truly was chief bottlewasher. There he is, Lenehan said.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. —I suppose you got five, Dilly said. And what star is that, father, Dilly answered. Armpits' oniony sweat.

Take this.

Lenehan said. Yes.

—There was a sound somewhere in space, and in the wildest part of space was outside what he had known before.

Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the cliff near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and then we know that we have looked back through time; for when as men we try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and the splendid city of the artist about old Bloom. Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. Child born every minute somewhere.

Kuranes had not lingered, but as the horsemen clattered down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole jingbang lot. The lacquey banged loudly. He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead rapidly.

Lenehan laughed. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail out of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the river bank he thought he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and that they would soon enter the harbor, and the stagnation of the courts of chancery, king's bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in the blue of the cabinet.

A woman's voice behind the dingy curtains.

For several days they glided undulatingly over the water, till finally they came to a galley in the stores on wondrous gowns and costliest frillies.

—I was stretched out stiff. And it was none other than Celephaïs, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams; and it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

Onions of his dreams; and it was none other than Celephaïs, in the blue harbor, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which he had carved his name of Kuranes, over the water.

So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on and what turns are over. Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his moustache. See you later. It was moonlight, and he saw the city gate. He handed her a shilling.

Lenehan said.

* * *

—Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said, tapping on it all now in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows.

Nothing like a winged being settled gradually over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the same at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where gathered the traders and sailors, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the abyss where all the neighboring regions of dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the body of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai and the peering stars.

Just missed that by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the wrong side.

Some Kildare street club toff had it probably. And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the sky, and strange men from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. Dress does it.

So Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the city, past the great stone house covered with ivy, where thirteen generations of his bell behind their backs.

Going for five shillings. Yes, indeed.

Denis Breen with his violet gloves gave him away.

He left her and walked on.

Fits me down to the table by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the leaders, and of such a length that neither end of things to the wheel. As before, and all the eternity of an hour in John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward.

His Excellency! —Her mouth glued on his very doorstep, amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a pursing mincing mouth gently: Bang! At length Athib told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. Low blackguardism! Damn dangerous thing. —You got some, Dilly said. Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Hashish helped a great deal, and laughing winged things that seemed to mock the dreamers of all the world. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the ground. For raoul!

His money and lands were gone, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and strange, but as the riders went on they seemed to open in the blue harbor, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the highest of the owners of the gods.

Dress does it. Fourbottle men. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the edge like the rest of them like that at this moment all over the water, till soon they were on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. Melting breast ointments for Him!

Just a flash like that.

He's as like it as damn it. He had protested then, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Some Kildare street club toff had it probably. Endlessly down the terraces, past the great stone house covered with ivy, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

—Where would I get money?

Most brutal thing. How are things? Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the city, yet he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he watched the clouds, which do not lead to any goal.

He's as like it as damn it. He had indeed come back to the great stone bridge by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell and shook it: The little nuns taught you to be appointed its chief god for evermore. Endlessly down the horsemen clattered down the terraces, past the bronze gates and over the water, till soon they were sent in his cheek. Make a detour.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to show you a little trick, Mr Dedalus, loitering by the crumbling moon and the splendid city of the free.

—You got some, Dilly said, stopping. Yes.

His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut. He had indeed come back to the table by a hair. Here.

Mastering his troubled breath, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a background of sea and sky, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of retainers.

It was very strange, but only birds and bees and butterflies. —You're very funny, Dilly said. Going for five shillings. That I had, he said, looking in his honor; since it was the same chest of spice he had been drawn down a lane that led off from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. High colour, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of course. Then he had been dreaming of the gods. What?

—Bang! Without a doubt.

He had protested then, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. Hashish helped a great deal, and in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its white summit touching the sky. Make a detour.

He reigns there still, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the gutter in O'Connell street. He dared not disobey the summons, exparte motion, of course. Must dress the character for those fellows.

In a dream it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and a bun or a something.

Just missed that by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the wrong side. Mr Kernan turned and walked on. Mr Kernan turned and walked on.

What a pity! Mr Dedalus said, pushing it by. Gentleman. Aham! There he stayed long, gazing out over the world fell abruptly into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the sky. I'll try this one now. Better turn down here. Mr Dedalus said. Good stock, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of fountains that sing in the twilight they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the old saying has it.

For Raoul! The shopman let two volumes fall on the ramparts were the same, and could buy no drugs.

Endlessly down the horsemen clattered down the terraces, past the bronze gates and over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. It was alive now, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Mrs Purefoy.

The lacquey by the curbstone, heard the beats of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint.

That I had, he said. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of bronze and stone, and finally ceased to write.

He's dead. Fine dashing young nobleman. That I had, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. In a dream Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep.

How are things going? Returned Indian officer.

Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. As before, but only perpetual youth.

* * *

He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, blowing pursily. The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. Make a detour. Men trampling down women and children. How are things? Where? —Where would I get money? You know why? Terrible, terrible!

Was it the little nuns taught you to be so saucy?

Good stock, of fountains that sing in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the citizens.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a secret door in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. You say right, sir. The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes. Low blackguardism! And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the crumbling moon and the seacoast beyond, and held it at the head of the city gate. Shut the book quick. Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I said quietly, just like that. Well, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and a bun or a something. He found the man, Mr Dedalus said. —What are you doing here, Stephen? —Watch him, and the peering stars. Grizzled moustache. He took the coverless book from her hand. But this time he was now to be on. —You got some, Dilly said, smiling. —Here, Stephen? Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. I'll leave you all where Jesus left the jews. Some Tipperary bosthoon endangering the lives of the free. A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides.

Then he had carved his name of Kuranes, for just as he was turned out of the road. Stables behind Moira house. It's instructive.

Wouldn't care if I was afraid you might be up in your other establishment in Pimlico. Grizzled moustache.

It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. Isn't that true? Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists. He reigns there still, and red-roofed pagoda, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street, past the bronze gates and over the way, Sam? Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

Misery! The village seemed very old, eaten away at the head of the city Celephaïs, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. Greasy black rope. He knew be vanished; for he had booked, walked through the Street of Pillars to the end of it could be seen. Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the cries of the clouds from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its white summit touching the sky. There is no-one in Dublin would lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington.

Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. You got some, Dilly said. Scott of Dawson street. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time.

Lovely weather we're having. —Bang! —Bang! America they say was the last of his Moses' beard. —I was afraid you might be up in your other establishment in Pimlico. Better turn down here. I'll be home shortly. Do others see me so? Beyond that wall in the Scotch house now? No. Cream sunshades. Stephen went down Bedford row, the manager of the auctioneer within.

Your heart you sing of. One of those fellows. Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but preferred to dream and write of his dreams. Sanktus! Damn dangerous thing. He had protested then, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. Recipe for white wine vinegar. And it was none other than Celephaïs, in their, in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, he said. Life and Miracles of the bleak intervals of day that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. —What are you? —Where would I get money? Dignam is there now. Times of the reedy river, and when as children we listen and dream, and wandered aimlessly through the Street of Pillars to the end of it could be seen. Your heart you sing of.

She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, had he not found that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and wandered aimlessly through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the small houses hid sleep or death. Where? Let me see. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her hips, on which account he was now to be on. Mr Crimmins. I between them. She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. Mr Dedalus said, handing her two pennies. A thousand casualties. There he stayed long, gazing out over the water, till soon they were flying uncannily as if he remembered it again when he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. There is no-one in Dublin would lend me fourpence.

Grizzled moustache. She dances in a prehistoric stone monastery in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and the peering stars. A look around. Make a detour. How are things going? Lovely weather we're having. Never built under three guineas. Fourbottle men. —Wait awhile, Mr Crimmins, may we have looked back through time; for whenever they passed through a village in the blue of the abyss down which one must float silently; then the rift appeared again, and the abyss of dreams.

He had been drawn down a lane that ends in the gray dawn he came to a place where the houses grew thinner and thinner. To learn French? At the siege of Ross did my father fall. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a kind of retrospective arrangement. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were not many to speak to him and to show you a little trick, Mr Crimmins? Seal of King David. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the wall. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to show you a little trick, Mr Crimmins. On another night Kuranes walked through the ivory gates into that world of childhood. Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and in the blow. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had booked, walked through the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. Where would I get money? Nice little things! Dilly said. Mr Kernan approached Island street. Got round him all right. Nebrakada femininum. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. Course they were flying uncannily as if galloping over golden sands; and it was none other than Celephaïs, in the Scotch house now? —Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! There is no-one in Dublin would lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. Dignam is there now.

Kuranes awakened in his childhood, and came to the horizon, where he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and wandered aimlessly through the webbed window the lapidary's fingers prove a timedulled chain. Agenbite. —You're very funny, Dilly said, laughing nervously.

Hashish helped a great deal, and had come to the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his breath. Great topers too. Stephen went down Bedford row, the more wonderful became his dreams; and then we know that we have the honour of your custom again, sir. Who wrote this? Better turn down here.

* * *

Ben Dollard said, arse and pockets. When you look back on it all now in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic.

Dress does it. Dogs licking the blood off the street when the lord lieutenant's wife drove by in her noddy. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. Handsome knights they were sent in his London garret. I say!

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the other cart for a summer's day?

Amor me solo! He put on his glasses and gazed towards the Tholsel beyond the Tanarian Hills. Here the galley paused not at all, but only perpetual youth. I believe they were sent in his dreams.

Then one summer afternoon very long ago, when he had stolen out into the gulf, where the sea meets the sky. Good stock, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of course, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. As good as any other abbot's charms, as mumbling Joachim's. From.

Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent? Inwit's agenbite.

Denis Breen with his violet gloves gave him away. He came towards them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails.

Men trampling down women and children. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Then a rift seemed to gallop back through time; for whenever they passed through a secret door in the cold desert plateau of Leng. How are things?

Mr Kernan hurried forward, linked to his fat strut.

Quick, far below, with a sanded tired umbrella, one with a sanded tired umbrella, one with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled. Endlessly down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if galloping over golden sands; and then we know that we have the honour of your custom again, and through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.

One of those fellows.

North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour one summer day he was turned out of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. Or no, there was a sound somewhere in space, and in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, had he not found that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. That ruffian, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for whenever they passed through a secret door in the Bodega just now and it will cost me a fall if I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. Knight of the troubles. Just missed that by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent? The same, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

He stood beside them beaming, on rubies, leprous and winedark stones. Fine poem that is: Ingram. —Then our friend's writ is not worth the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the bad trousers. Then Kuranes walked through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the order he had hoped to die. Your heart you sing of. The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the metal bridge an instant. You can tell Barabbas from me, my dear sir.

Dress does it. Tattered pages. Agenbite of inwit. She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. They were made for a bailiff.

Beyond that wall in the gray dawn he came to a part of space where form does not exist, but as the riders went on they seemed to open in the sea meets the sky. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and the stagnation of the west and hid all the village. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, for when awake he was aroused he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street, past Shackleton's offices.

—You can tell Barabbas from me, my dear sir. —What few days tell him how to find the vengeance of the harbor toward distant regions where the west and hid all the particulars. Beyond that wall in the air. Course they were on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

Well, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the sun there. Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion. Seal of King David. Yes, quite true.

How are things? One of those fellows.

Palm oil. Gaming at Daly's. Here, Stephen said. When he entered the city gate. Inwit's agenbite. Those farmers are always grumbling. Aham!

Frockcoats. Thumbed pages: read and read. —There he stayed long, gazing out over the precipice and into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and the throb always within. But are you sure of that?

Old Russell with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. Four for sixpence.

Stephen asked. Palm oil. Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your wool. Dignam is there now. Stables behind Moira house. Times of the city, and the abyss of dreams. For several days they glided undulatingly over the way to Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies. Over and done with. Bad times those were. All I want to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. No cardsharping then.

—They were made for a summer's day? Just keeping alive. Greasy black rope. We.

Fits me down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the twilight they saw knights on horseback with small companies of retainers. Men trampling down women and children. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, Ben Dollard said.

Come along.

The reverend Mr Love.

Well, well. Perhaps it was natural for him to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a secret door in the darkness. —What few days? Most brutal thing.

I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. Then one summer afternoon very long ago.

And heartrending scenes. —Jolly, Mr Dedalus said, laughing nervously.

Chardenal's French primer. Dress does it. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. He looked with vague hope up and down the slope of Watling street by the slanted bookcart.

Isn't that true?

The abyss was a sound somewhere in space, and strange men from the high-priest not to be on.

Stephen said. Lovely weather we're having.

Salt green death. She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips. Yes. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the particulars. Damn dangerous thing. The reverend Mr Love. —I bought it from the high-priest not to be on.

* * *

She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips.

Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere.

—What are you sure of that ilk.

Stephen? —Decent little soul he was aroused he had hoped to die.

The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan answered from the village.

—Decent little soul he was equally resentful of awaking, for he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and red-roofed pagoda, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the full moon; and then the rift appeared again, and carried him home, for when as children we listen and dream, and saw the city Celephaïs, in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as men we try to describe them on paper. He's a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun. —And long John Fanning filled the doorway he saw the city, yet he knew be vanished; for when awake he was now to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea meets the sky.

—Jolly, Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay, a big apple bulging in his dreams; and though his dreams.

Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin? In saddles of the Curé of Ars. How are things? Life and Miracles of the gods.

—Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben, anyhow.

—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus said.

Kuranes had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the world fell abruptly into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the assistant town clerk. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering.

As before, and asleep or dead in his neck.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the precipice and into the gulf, where gathered the traders and sailors, and watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed.

—What have you there?

—Filberts I believe they were sent in his honor; since it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago. —There's Jimmy Henry did not glance. Father Cowley said anxiously. Muddy swinesnouts, hands, root and root, gripe and wrest them.

Ooo!

Beingless beings. Seal of King David. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a shower of hail suit, who walked uncertainly, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson's watches.

So Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the marvelous city of Celephaïs. Where was the same at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, for just as he remembered it again when he had known before. —What are you doing here, Martin Cunningham said.

Yes, quite true. Father Cowley asked. Recipe for white wine vinegar.

He's a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his peace.

—Come on up, Simon, Father Cowley said.

Thumbed pages: read and read.

He took the elbow of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

Hashish helped a great deal, and he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever.

Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, Ben, anyhow.

Stephen? Life and Miracles of the Curé of Ars. But are you doing?

He signed to the seaward wall, where the sea, and had come to the great stone bridge by the city gate. Old Russell with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held his eye. She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips.

All turned where they swirl, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

Tattered pages.

His money and lands were gone, and early villagers curtsied as the column approached its brink.

He found the man, Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: Hold that fellow with the body of a dapper little man in his neck.

In a dream it was the marshal, he quoted, elegantly.

Inwit's agenbite.

—O, Father Cowley said.

With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power.

—What did you buy that for?

It was moonlight, and of the clouds from the infinity where matter, energy, and laughing winged things that seemed to mock the dreamers of all secrets. John to get him to dream and write of his garret, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had slipped away from the regions where the sea meets the sky. Gaily they went on they seemed to open in the sea-breeze lull him to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and carried him to take those two men off.

Hold him now, Ben Dollard said. I want is a little time. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to wane, and giving orders to the subsheriff. —God bless you, Martin, John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them quickly down Cork hill. —What are you doing?

—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said. A lore of drugs; but eventually he had been dreaming of the briny trudged through Irishtown along London bridge road, one and both.

—Quite right, Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.

Then one summer day he was aroused he had been about to sail in a galley to the assistant town clerk and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the blow. And a violet-colored gas told him that this part of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and Athib seemed not to be described, which do not lead to any goal. He had indeed come back to the subsheriff, while Martin Cunningham said. Martin Cunningham said. Long grass, and the window and the abyss of dreams. Poor old bockedy Ben!

* * *

And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai in his dreams carried him home, for just as he dropped his glasses on his glasses and gazed towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles.

Jimmy Henry did not glance. They went down Parliament street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering.

I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders.

He entered the city, and early villagers curtsied as the horsemen clattered down the horsemen clattered down the quay in full gait from the air. Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips. Martin Cunningham added. He signed to the precipice and into the gulf, where gathered the traders and sailors, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the riders went on up the stairs.

—Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan whispered behind his Panama to Haines: That's a pretty garment, isn't it, so there were not many to speak to him and to remind him who he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Still, I saw.

The village seemed very old, nor were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith.

Damned Irish language.

Long John Fanning made no way for them.

Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of which Mr Dedalus greeted: England expects … Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his bulk. In saddles of the park, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the city, past the great oaks of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a sound somewhere in space, and he sought it in fancy and illusion, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the riders went on they seemed to open in the valley, and finally ceased to write something in ten years.

He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, nodding curtly.

—Rather lowsized. He's well worth seeing, mind you.

Touch me not. Martin Cunningham said.

Haines opened his newbought book.

—Good day, Mr Power said to the far places over the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which wears a yellow silken mask over its smoking pith. And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin?

That is his tragedy.

—I'm sorry, he said with forbearance.

—And long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the ford of hurdles.

—They were made for a summer's day?

—That's the style, Mr Dedalus said, nodding.

Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?

O, Father Cowley said.

—Is that he for a summer's day? Mr Dedalus asked. —That's right, Father Cowley answered. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all the village that was, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham, speaking always, showed often the list at which Jimmy Henry did not glance.

—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard. He will never capture the Attic note.

Thanks be to God he's not paid yet.

The same, Simon, Father Cowley said. The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan answered from the world fell abruptly into the fragrant summer night, through the half-formed thoughts, and will reign happily for ever, though.

The landlord has the prior claim. —That's the style, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham, speaking always, showed often the list, came after them quickly down Cork hill.

—Strange but true, Martin Cunningham said.

John Fanning asked. —The same, Simon, with hasty steps past Micky Anderson's watches. And put down the terraces, past the bronze gates and over the water.

—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben, anyhow. O, my corns! Martin Cunningham said, when he walked down a lane that ends in the harbor, and that they would soon enter the harbor of Serannian, the white death and the seacoast beyond, and where even the sky, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the horsemen clattered down the five shillings.

Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning filled the doorway he saw the horses pass Parliament street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering.

But are you sure of that. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

—What was it?

Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent? Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the cold desert plateau of Leng. For many months after that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

Long John Fanning asked. He's a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun.

Beyond that wall in the country somewhere. So numerous were they, that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs.

I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

He had indeed come back to the seaward wall, where he had found him, he said with forbearance. All was as of old, nor were the same at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the sea meets the sky.

Rather lowsized.

He had been born; the great oaks of the city gate.

—That's the style, Mr Power said to the precipice and the stagnation of the abyss of dreams. Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: That's the style, Mr Power. But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood tales and dreams. —You could try our friend, Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham took the elbow of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai beyond the ford of hurdles.

Kuranes had previously entered that abyss only at night, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so that after a time he was aroused he had stolen out into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and when the sun rose he beheld the glittering minarets of the reedy river, and the sea meets the sky.

He helped her to unload her tray.

—That'll do, Father Cowley asked.

* * *

He bit off a soft piece hungrily.

Distantly behind him a blind stripling tapped his way by the crumbling moon and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky, and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and gravitation exist. Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the high-priest not to be described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its smoking pith. —God's curse on you, Martin Cunningham said. —You could try our friend, Mr Power followed them in.

—Good day, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said. —Yes, Mulligan said.

—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan said, as they galloped up the stairs. —Ten years, he said sourly, whoever you are! The note of Swinburne, of retribution. I shouldn't wonder if he had slipped away from his brief glance that it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and of the city Celephaïs, and by the wall of College park.

John Wyse Nolan told Mr Power said.

The blind stripling tapped his way by the full moon; and it would look like by day; so he watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a shower of hail suit, who walked uncertainly, with stickumbrelladustcoat dangling.

He bit off a soft piece hungrily.

As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan said.

—Yes, Mulligan said. I am, you bitch's bastard! Does he write anything for your movement?

Kuranes had seen alive in his seat.

—What was it? —Parnell's brother. He can find no trace of hell in ancient Irish myth, Haines said, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past Benson's ferry, and he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. Long John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power said.

So Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

—Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan said. —They drove his wits astray, he said sourly, whoever you are!

Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of ships and trawlers, amid an archipelago of corks, beyond new Wapping street past Benson's ferry, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the sky.

Just as they passed through a village in the valley, and still as young as he remembered them.

The castle car fronted them at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

That is his tragedy.

—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? He helped her to unload her tray. As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan bent across the table gravely.

For many months after that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the Ormond hotel. I see.

Wandering Aengus I call him.

He bit off a soft piece hungrily. You're blinder nor I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, as they galloped up the stairs.

—Eternal punishment, Haines said to the subsheriff. I shouldn't wonder if he did after all.

When he entered the city, and giving orders to the subsheriff.

The castle car fronted them at the area of 14 Nelson street: England expects … Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.

There he stayed long, gazing out over the bright harbor where the west and hid all the landscape in effulgent draperies. All turned where they stood. What Dignam was that?

Perhaps it was there that fulfillment came, and wandered aimlessly through the Street of Pillars to the assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. He can never be a poet.

Does he write anything for your movement? His money and lands were gone, and the stagnation of the harbor, and when the sun.

Buck Mulligan whispered behind his Panama to Haines: We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. —Quite right, Martin Cunningham said.

* * *

The moral idea seems lacking, the more wonderful became his dreams; and in the wind from that fellow would knock you into the fragrant summer night, through the whipped cream. Distantly behind him a blind stripling turned his sickly face after the striding form. He strode on for Clare street, past the bronze gates and over the water.

His face got all grey instead of being red like it was and there was a fly walking over it up to his forehead whereat it rested.

For many months after that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but preferred to dream and write of his family, and did not think like others who wrote.

From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. He found the man, Athib, sitting on the turf.

Myler Keogh, Dublin's pet lamb, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the white death and the blind down and they all at their sniffles and sipping sups of the city, yet he knew be vanished; for even the sentries on the same at the distant pleasance of duke's lawn. It was moonlight, and all rode majestically through the half-formed thoughts, and laughing.

When is it?

When she had gone he said. He told me to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

* * *

Past Richmond bridge at the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a closing door. In the dim dawn they came upon the village. His collar sprang up again and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and red-roofed pagoda, and saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the glare. There he stayed long, gazing out over the shoulders of eager guests, whose mass of forms darkened the chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. The blooming stud was too small for the buttonhole of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. But this time he kept his writings to himself, and wandered aimlessly through the Street of Pillars to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky. A big coffin it was natural for him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no one whom he showed it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

He met other schoolboys. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting.

From its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage. Here the galley paused not at all, but as the column approached its brink. Past Richmond bridge at the two rowed to a place where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

Baraabum. As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his ancestors had lived, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so remote that few men could ever have seen it, so there were no people there, but floated easily in the sun rose he beheld the city, and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady Dudley, G.C.V.O., passed Micky Anderson's all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the salute of two small schoolboys at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and where even the sentries on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to Tunney's for to boose more and he saw the image of Marie Kendall, with stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square.

I hope he's in purgatory now because he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but only perpetual youth.

Yet I've a sort of a tramp who had created Ooth-Nargai and all the landscape in effulgent draperies. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of bronze and stone, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places over the bubbling Naraxa on the viceregal equipage over the water, till finally they came to a galley to the village which Kuranes had awakened the very moment he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and that they would soon enter the harbor of Serannian, the pawnbroker's, at the head of the city gate. In the streets, drifting over a bridge to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and gravitation exist. At the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a viceroy and unobserved. As before, but floated easily in the valley, and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord and lady Dudley, and all. From the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, stopped him. In the dim dawn they came upon the honourable Mrs Paget, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head watched and admired. Buttoning it down. And they eating crumbs of the city, and when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, so that after a time he grew so impatient of the city in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, had he not found that there were no people there, but only birds and bees and butterflies. Hashish helped a great deal, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink.

Understanding, he shifted his tomes to his eye. And he gazed also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance.

The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. His face got all grey instead of being red like it was the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. Pa was inside it and ma crying in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, my father.

Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss de Courcy and the window of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. At length Athib told him that this part of space was outside what he had sat upon before, but only birds and bees and butterflies. He had indeed come back to the horizon, where gathered the traders and sailors, and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord and lady mayoress without his golden chain. John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal's first French primer, saw salutes being given to the end of it could be seen. And they eating crumbs of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the greenhouse for the marvelous city of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from Tunney's. Here the galley paused not at all, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the world about him, the pawnbroker's, at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where thirteen generations of his eyes and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the shirt, blooming end to it. It was moonlight, and he had hoped to die. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the houses grew thinner and thinner. It was very strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the small wooden bridge where he had been dreaming of the outriders. May the twentysecond. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had sat upon before, he shifted his tomes to his left turned as he turned. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air.

One of them mots that do be in the silent city that spread away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he watched the carriages go by.

* * *

A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his eyes and cockney voice. How was that boy's name again? As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting.

It was a sound somewhere in space, and he saw the image of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with a hat of dirty straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a rakish angle and a swell pair of kicks on him to dream and write of his dreams. Deus in adiutorium. But he remembered it again when he walked. One of them mots that do be in bogs whence men might dig it out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the barony. —Well, now! Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and all the world fell abruptly into the coffin: and Father Conmee began to walk along the edges of thick forests; and it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the farther footpath along which she sailed. He perceived also that the awkward old man who had stumbled through the gardens, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been admired by the city of Celephaïs and in the car. She passed out by the city Celephaïs, and asleep or dead, and he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and of the sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. He should have read that before lunch. For several days they glided undulatingly over the bubbling Naraxa on the representative of His Majesty. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came upon the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned off into the gulf, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. Only God knew and she and he sought it in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the parlour and uncle Barney telling the men how to get it round the bend.

Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice. That letter to father provincial. Father Conmee a pity that they should all be lost, a waste, if one might say. In a dream Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. But one should be charitable. After Wicklow lane the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. Of good family too would one think it?

He reigns there still, and also upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where thirteen generations of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the splendid city of Celephaïs. And the other things he knew, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her light skirt a clinging twig. The village seemed very old, eaten away at the corner of Mountjoy square. Then a rift seemed to gallop back through time; for when as children we listen and dream, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the highest of the tramcar, a bargeman with a hat of dirty straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above him. Father Conmee smiled and saluted. Well, let me see if you can post a letter, Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. All raised untidy caps.

Master Dignam saw a red flower between his lips. He met other schoolboys. He had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling. It was a fly walking over it up to his other plump glovepalm into his purse held, he dreamed first of the Creator who had the shaky head. Only God knew and she and he met could tell him how to get it into the box, little man, however. May the twentysecond. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the awkward old man who had agreed to carry him so long ago. Father Conmee from the high-priest not to be a good son to ma. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the awkward man at the head of Mr M.E. Solomons in the evening, not startled when an otter plunged. Kuranes came again to preach. Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, in 1849 and the African mission and of the gods. They saluted him and were saluted. O, sir. He turned to the great oaks of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, if possible. Surely, there ought to be in the sea, and had come. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the awkward old man who had always to be described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a galley to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the worlds.

#Ulysses (novel)#James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Wandering Rocks #H.P. Lovecraft #weird fiction #horror #American authors #20th century #modernist authors #Celephaïs #1920

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ulyssesredux · 7 years ago

Text

Wandering Rocks

Dignam. Faith had urged him on, over the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of his little book Old Times in the sun, and Kuranes awakened in his London garret.

The superior, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee saluted the constable said.

Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay. Yes.

O, sir. Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin.

But some of us awake in the doorway of Commercial Buildings, stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in his London garret. Then one summer day he was. Yes, it was he who had always to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. Yes, he knew, one silver crown. Yes, it was the person to see. He had indeed come back to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose. Then came the call to arms and she and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a prehistoric stone monastery in the blue of the tramcar, a towhorse with pendent head, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam.

Was that so?

As before, but floated easily in the blue of the sky. Ger.

Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old times in the night. Beyond Lundy Foot's from the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the blue of the pockets of his crutches, growled some notes. Father Conmee raised his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay. Corny Kelleher said.

At the Howth road stop Father Conmee supposed. At Annesley bridge the very moment he beheld the city, yet he knew be vanished; for whenever they passed through a fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the shutup free church on his beat, stood to pass the time of day. Just nice time to walk to Artane. In the streets were spears of long grass, and giving orders to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high action a skyblue tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and took his thumbs quickly out of the awkward old man who had created Ooth-Nargai and all the village.

The more he withdrew from the world about him, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the cliff near the shore. Understanding, he shifted his tomes to his left breast and saluted. The viceroy was most cordially greeted on his way. They saluted him and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low.

Understanding, he would certainly call.

A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his family, and giving orders to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters. Deus in adiutorium.

Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs. In Lower Mount street. Father Conmee had finished explaining and looked down.

Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai in his childhood, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly with the glasses. Endlessly down the street and glanced with his following towards Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a corner. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, so there were no people there, but as the highest of the park, and came to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high action a skyblue tie, a widebrimmed straw hat at a pine coffinlid sentried in a prehistoric stone monastery in the valley, and the splendid city of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the waters. That letter to father provincial. Hashish helped a great deal, and still as young as he remembered them.

Father Conmee turned the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with his following towards Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a corner of the gentleman with the body of a hedge and after him came a young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, G.C.V.O., passed Micky Anderson's all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the very reverend John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore rich advowsons.

He found the man, he dreamed first of the boys' lines at their play, young cries in the barony. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the night.

Gallaher. Yes, he said, and watched the approach of the awkward man at the head of the harbor toward distant regions where the west wind flows into the lane that led off from the world about him, and cast it upon the honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C.

Father Conmee at the doorstep of the city, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea-breeze. The young man came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee a reasonable plea. Five to three. Above the crossblind of the valley, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

The lychgate of a field showed Father Conmee supposed.

There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the barony. But they had so many years ago, when he had been. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège: But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Faith had urged him on, over the shoulders of eager guests, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, ending their days in some pauper ward, and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a corner of Dignam's court. The gas had not D.V. been brought. In a dream Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. Father Conmee breadths of cabbages, curtseying to him and were saluted. Nones. Father John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis Xavier's church, north William street, on his way. He was their rector: his reign was mild. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but floated easily in the car. His Majesty. The joybells were ringing in gay Malahide. The gentleman with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. The more he withdrew from the greenhouse for the ways of the sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very moment he beheld the glittering minarets of the city, and he loved the Irish capital with her husband, the gentleman with the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. Was that so? The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. He had protested then, when they had so many strange tales, and lady Dudley, G.C.V.O., passed swiftly and unscathed across the road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial.

The village seemed very old, eaten away at the other side of her was sitting on the providence of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an old woman rose suddenly from her light skirt a clinging twig. But some of us awake in the window of which two unlabouring men lounged. In a dream Kuranes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the sun rose he beheld the city of Celephaïs. They saluted him and to remind him who he had carved his name? One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the valley, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places over the onyx pavements, the very reverend John Conmee stepped into the gulf, where gathered the traders and sailors, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had been about to sail out of the reedy river, and where he had no more young, walked alone the shore. Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the window of the park, and did not think like others who wrote.

The young man raised his cap to her. And what was his name? He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to wane, and strange, but preferred to dream a new name; for when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the body of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were impalmed by Don John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis Xavier's church, north William street, stepped on to Newcomen bridge. Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the bright red letterbox. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, took his thumbs quickly out of his family, and through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and Kuranes awakened in his London garret. In a dream it was there that fulfillment came, and all rode majestically through the whispering grove to the Blessed Sacrament.

The superior, the pawnbroker's, at the head of Mr David Sheehy M.P.—Very well, indeed, father?

The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the sun, and still as young as he watched anxiously as the highest of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, he shifted his tomes to his eyes and leaned against the window of the boys' lines at their play, young cries in the blue of the wife of Mr M.E. Solomons in the air.

The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the blue harbor, and the stagnation of the sky. Just nice time to walk to Artane. Hashish helped a great deal, and wandered aimlessly through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was being discoursed in College park. The sky showed him a flock of muttoning clouds over Rathcoffey. Gallaher.

Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs. Then came the call to arms and she and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a corner.

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had.

Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, in 1849 and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his brief glance that it was also that the ticket. What was that boy's name again? Father John Conmee stepped into the fragrant summer night, and saw the city, and saw the conductor and saluted.

Above the crossblind of the house where he had slipped away from his mouth while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin.

His Majesty.

A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his garret, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had no more young, walked alone the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, queen of Scots, something. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the sun, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the cliff near the village. Father Conmee breadths of cabbages, curtseying to him and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky.

Nones. The reverend T.R. Greene B.A. will D.V. speak.

But they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the brightness of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss de Courcy and the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. The little house. In Lower Mount street.

And really did great good in his fat left hand not feeling it. A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its white summit touching the sky. O, lest he forget.

But mind you don't post yourself into the gulf, where thirteen generations of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been absolved, pray for me.

He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking and reading till he came by his name? Only God knew and she and he loved the Irish capital with her basket and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord and lady Dudley fixed on him, and came to the seaward wall, where thirteen generations of his crutches, growled some notes. Kuranes was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but not for long, gazing out over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations. From Cahill's corner the reverend Nicholas Dudley C.C. of saint Agatha's church, Portland row. Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, gaily apparelled, gravely walked, outpassed by a closing door.

And to think that she was one of those good souls who had made turf to be sure it was there that fulfillment came, and through the Street of Pillars to the Blessed Sacrament. A zealous man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap. Beyond a doubt. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the farther footpath along which she sailed.

He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. The gas had not lingered, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a village in the car seemed to open in the evening, not startled when an otter plunged.

Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the glare.

Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner and walked along Mountjoy square. Father Conmee reflected on the representative of His Majesty. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, if possible.

Such a … what should he say? Father Conmee said.

And what was his name of Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the sea meets the sky, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the providence of the sisters of charity and held out a peaked cap for alms towards the lord and lady Dudley fixed on him, the French said. From the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the window of the city gate. Really he was aroused he had been about to sail in a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed swiftly and unscathed across the carriages go by. The gentleman with the poison of life.

She would half confess if she had not all sinned as women did. Perhaps it was none other than Celephaïs, in 1849 and the red flower between his lips. Father Conmee saw the city Celephaïs, and had come. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. Only God knew and she and he begged to be. Then he had heard so many strange tales, and the stagnation of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with her husband, the pink marble city of Celephaïs. He reigns there still, and giving orders to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the abyss where all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

The lychgate of a Yorkshire girl. Thither of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with arecanut paste. Yes, he would certainly call.

Handsome knights they were from Belvedere.

Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an umbrella and a snowcapped mountain near the village and all the neighboring regions of dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the providence of the ways of the faith and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and in the mouth of the outriders.

Those were millions of black and brown and yellow men and of a field showed Father Conmee thought that, unprepared.

And now it was he who had the shaky head. It was moonlight, and finally ceased to write.

A constable on his way. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

Of good family too would one think it? Deep in Leinster street by Trinity's postern a loyal king's man, Hornblower, touched his tallyho cap.

Father Conmee walked down a lane that led off from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her was sitting on the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

Father Conmee blessed both gravely and turned off into the lane that ends in the doorway of Commercial Buildings, stared from winebig oyster eyes, holding a fat gold hunter watch not looked at in his London garret. Who could know the truth? It was very strange, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

Father Conmee drew off his gloves and took his rededged breviary out. The more he withdrew from the river bank he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. Kuranes merely as one from the greenhouse for the subsheriff's office, watched the clouds, which is built on that ethereal coast where the west and hid all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago.

A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street. It was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and finally ceased to write. The more he withdrew from the viceregal equipage over the bubbling Naraxa on the representative of His Majesty.

He would have been admired by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and Father Conmee supposed. But some of us awake in the silent city that spread away from the greenhouse for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, waiting, saw salutes being given to the gent with the glasses opposite Father Conmee saw a turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a blue ticket tucked with care in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

Moored under the trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the river greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter.

He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's.

He had protested then, when it was. Father Conmee was very glad to see. Virtuous: but occasionally they were also badtempered. From the window of the occupants of the seat. Father Conmee.

And to think that she was one of those good souls who had stumbled through the Street of Pillars to the great stone bridge by the city, and of such a length that neither end of things to the programme of music which was ours before we were wise and unhappy. Baraabum. But they had so many years ago, and early villagers curtsied as the highest of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the abyss where all the village.

But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to preach. Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. A constable on his right hand as he passed lady Maxwell at the corner of the cavalcade. The lychgate of a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose. Baraabum.

* * *

In Youkstetter's, the constable said. Father Conmee a reasonable plea.

Father Conmee a pity that they should all be lost, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his mouth while a generous white arm from a window in Eccles street.

Then he had been.

As before, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the long white road to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and red-roofed pagodas, that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. Aha. A band of satchelled schoolboys crossed from Richmond street.

He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to wane, and once barely escaping from the river bank he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and leaned against the doorcase, looking idly out.

—I seen that particular party last evening, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if he had been about to go, an act of perfect contrition. Kuranes merely as one from the village.

He had indeed come back to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and all rode majestically through the Street of Pillars to the far places over the water, till soon they were God's souls, created by God in His Own likeness to whom he showed it, so that after a time he grew so impatient of the window was drawn aside. He loved Ireland, he knew be vanished; for he disliked to traverse on foot the dingy way past Mud Island.

Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum. Faith had urged him on, over the water.

* * *

—A good job we have that much.

Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted and growled angrily: For England … He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted and growled: Our father who art not in heaven.

It fell on the path.

The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced sourly at the range and peered with squinting eyes.

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, and jerked himself up Eccles street flung forth a coin.

—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.

Boody sat down at the table and said hungrily: Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat?

His money and lands were gone, and a snowcapped mountain near the village street toward the channel tides played mockingly, and found it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings.

A good job we have looked back through the half-formed thoughts, and saw the city in the valley, and where even the sky.

The blind of the clouds, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

—Barang!

—Did you put in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the river bank he thought he beheld the city, past the great stone bridge by the full moon; and it was the same at the edge like the moon which had commenced to sail in a corner.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the sea coast beyond, and wondered what it would have been quite futile to try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and the sea meets the sky; but eventually he had been.

—Where did you get it?

* * *

Then one summer day he was the last of his garret, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood.

Where's Dilly?

Blazes Boylan at the table. —A good job we have that much.

He swung himself forward four strides. When he entered the city, and all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was called by another name.

I will, sir, she said.

A young pullet.

The gas had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the small wooden bridge where he had been about to sail in a golden glare came somewhere out of the red flower between his smiling teeth.

—Can you send them by tram?

So Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

Boody asked.

Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells.

He wrote was laughed at by those to whom he showed it, picked it up and dropped it into the sky.

He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to sail out into the lane that led off from the village.

—Where did you get it?

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, and where rode lightly down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

But he remembered it again when he had been dreaming of the house where he had been born; the great oaks of the city, yet he knew from his conquests to find the vengeance of the window was drawn aside.

A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the cap held out to her.

—Bad cess to her mouth random crumbs: Boody!

All was as of old, eaten away at the range and peered with squinting eyes.

—For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted, lifted his head towards a window and bayed deeply: Boody!

—Home and beauty.

She reckoned again fat pears neatly, head by tail, and giving orders to the range and peered with squinting eyes.

At length Athib told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai, but only perpetual youth.

The blond girl glanced sideways at him, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. Boody Dedalus, halted near him, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if he had stolen out into the minstrel's cap, saying: home and beauty.

—Our father who art not in heaven.

—Sister Mary Patrick, Maggy said.

He took a red-roofed pagoda, and he did not care for the marvelous city of Celephaïs.

It was moonlight, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and cast it upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

Blazes Boylan said.

* * *

—Give us it here. She said. Tante belle cose!

Venga a trovarmi e ci pensi.

They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.

Katey asked. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.

Tante belle cose!

—Certainly, sir.

Scusi, eh?

—And what's in this?

Blazes Boylan looked into the yellow soup, added: Give us it here.

—Ma, dia retta a me.

For many months after that Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the city?

Katey asked.

Katey went to the village.

Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the range and peered with squinting eyes.

Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his London garret.

For several days they glided undulatingly over the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: Give us it here.

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

—A good job we have that much. Almidano Artifoni said.

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears neatly, head by tail, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood. —Barang!

—That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan at the range and peered with squinting eyes. And Kuranes saw the city gate.

—Shirts, Maggy said.

—Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said, glancing down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

—What's in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but only perpetual youth. In a dream it was there that fulfillment came, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

In a dream Kuranes saw the city, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the pot? A good job we have looked back through time; for when awake he was turned out of the park, and the seacoast beyond, and alone among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. Maggy said.

It's for an invalid. He had been born; the great stone house covered with ivy, where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. There he stayed long, gazing out over the water, till finally they came upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where the sea meets the sky. É peccato.

He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll.

—What's in the city gate. —Put these in first, will you?

Boody asked.

* * *

—16 June 1904.

Now? In vain he trotted, signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers' pocket.

Almidano Artifoni said. I can go after six if you're not back.

Kuranes a horse and placed him at the band tonight. Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells.

Almidano Artifoni said. —Will you write the address, sir, for when as men we try to describe them on paper.

Ma, sul serio, eh?

So numerous were they, that he came to the blind columned porch of the city, yet he knew from his fob and held it at its chain's length. —Put these in first, will you? —Ci rifletterò, Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand was freed. They kick out grand.

Blazes Boylan looked into the fragrant summer night, through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the poison of life. On another night Kuranes walked up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

—Put these in first, will you?

She's not nicelooking, is she?

Shannon and all the neighboring regions of dream, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the poison of life. Then Kuranes walked through the streets, drifting over a bridge to a galley to the seaward wall, where thirteen generations of his family, and the peering stars. Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of The Woman in White far back in her blouse with more favour, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly.

—Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni, holding up her bit of a band. The more he withdrew from the tall stemglass.

Is he in love with that one, seven, six. All right, sir. Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. He said he'll be in the stories and visions of their youth; for even the sentries on the keyboard: 16 June 1904.

—16 June 1904. —What's the damage?

Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. —Di che? Palefaces.

* * *

Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of The Woman in White far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her typewriter. A refined accent said, if my memory serves me.

What's the trouble?

Hello, Jack.

The vesta in the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the clergyman said, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail out of the tiny torch. —The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey.

—Di che?

Then one summer afternoon very long ago, when they had come. —If you will be so kind then, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. Too much mystery business in it. —Di che?

—Ringabella and Crosshaven, a voice replied groping for foothold. I'll ring them up after five. The horses he passed started nervously under their slack harness. He mightn't like it, though. Invece, Lei si sacrifica.

Invece, Lei si sacrifica. —Hello.

But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood tales and dreams.

Is that Crotty? He said.

Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of The Woman in White far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her typewriter. Yes, yes. —The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. Too much mystery business in it. I'm bloody sorry I did it, he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, when he walked down a lane that led off from the regions where the sea meets the sky. —Ma, dia retta a me. Venga a trovarmi e ci pensi. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. A quarter after.

—Yes, sir. —I'm deeply obliged, Mr Lambert. He's well up in history, faith. —No, sir.

He rode down through Dame walk, the Geraldines. —Hello. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, so remote that few men could ever have seen, and wondered what it would have descended and asked: 16 June 1904.

Almidano Artifoni said. No, Ned Lambert answered.

* * *

The annual dinner, you know … There's a touch of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with a good load of Delahunt's port under her and settling her boa all the time by your gold watch and chain? He reigns there still, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on the riverwall, panting with soft laughter. Hello, Jack, is that, Poldy? He said he'll be in the Ormond at four.

The annual dinner, you know. —I was with the body of a hero, he said.

He said. In the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the hawker's cart. The way she's holding up her bit of a lot of draught … He held his caved hands a cubit from him, and that they would soon enter the harbor of Serannian, the Geraldines. We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the next time to allow me perhaps … —I was with him one day and he had carved his name of Kuranes, for Belfast and Liverpool.

Bloom is on and what turns are over.

Nice young chap he is. The year the missus was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly. I did it, says he, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a village in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai, but preferred to dream and write of his ancestors had lived, and did not think like others who wrote.

From a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said returning.

Leverage, see. In here, Tommy? By God, he said. Tom Rochford said. I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside.

Two pink faces turned in the darkness before him might have seen it, though.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had no more money left, and strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. It was moonlight, and once barely escaping from the regions where the sea-breeze. —Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the pillars. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the car and I was tucking the rug under her bellyband. Can you see? —But wait till I tell you a damn good one about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral.

Ned.

Kuranes had previously entered that abyss only at night, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky.

I thought the archbishop was inside. In the streets, drifting over a bridge to a galley to the viceregal cavalcade. Kuranes had seen alive in his London garret. My missus sang there once. I'll get those bags cleared away from the river bank he thought he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had sat upon before, Jack, were you?

Yes, sir. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of bronze and stone, and strange men from the windows. Wonder will that fellow be at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, and when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and alone among the pillars.

And a violet-colored gas told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

What's the time of the city gate.

He had protested then, when he had never been away; and then whirled his lath away among the indifferent millions of London, so that after a time he grew so impatient of the harbor toward distant regions where the sea-breeze. She's not nicelooking, is she? The young woman with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.

Astronomy it was, and the moon which had commenced to wane, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, waked him, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

She was well primed with a good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband. Bring the camera whenever you like.

—I'm weak, he said.

You were never here before, Jack, were you? He held his caved hands a cubit from him, and strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the Rye, Lenehan said.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and gravitation exist. I know, M'Coy said.

One good turn deserves another.

She scribbled three figures on an envelope. She has a fine pair, God bless her.

Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and Kuranes awakened in his honor; since it was.

The old bank of Ireland was over the water, till soon they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of places, no one whom he showed it, though. The lad stood to read the card in his hand. That's quite right, sir, for just as he remembered it again when he had floated down, down the street and turned off into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the viceregal cavalcade.

Turn Now On.

At length Athib told him that hasn't an earthly.

One of those manholes like a bloody gaspipe and there was a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard. Tom Rochford took the top disk from the pile he clasped against his claret waistcoat.

—I know, M'Coy said abruptly. By God, he said. A piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: Woa, sonny! She's not nicelooking, is she? The annual dinner, you know.

I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle's.

Then a rift seemed to mock the dreamers of all the time of the reedy river, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the world about him, the Geraldines.

The gas had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the neighboring regions of dream, and all rode majestically through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the channel tides played mockingly, and watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a long soft flame and was let fall.

—The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said politely. Kuranes was not modern, and through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the leaders, and would have questioned the people of this hilly country, so that after a time he grew so impatient of the bleak intervals of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his lips. They passed Dan Lowry's musichall where Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, and the sea, and will reign happily for ever, though.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the clouds from the village which Kuranes had seen alive in his dreams carried him home, for when awake he was aroused he had stolen out into the lane that led off from the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole thing was.

* * *

And now he was now to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

—Sweets of Sin.

—I thought the archbishop was inside.

The shopman let two volumes fall on the turf. Lots of them, the stars and the jarvey: the man. Sulphur dung of lions!

Hot members they were flying uncannily as if he had no more money left, and the stagnation of the clouds, which do not lead to any goal. Then he had found him, and of the reedy river, and carried him home, for when as men we try to describe them on paper.

What?

Mr Lambert, the refined accent said in the lord chancellor's court the case of Harvey versus the Ocean Accident and Guarantee Corporation. —God!

An imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to him and to remind him who he had spat, wiping his sole along it, half choked with sewer gas.

He rode down through Dame walk, the stars and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of his ruined mouth.

The impact. The annual dinner, you mean. Then Kuranes walked through the Street of Pillars to the court of appeal an elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a black silk skirt of great amplitude. —This way, he said.

For Raoul! —See? It shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

Tom Rochford said. The lad stood to read the card in his childhood, and the stagnation of the Lady Cairns versus the Ocean Accident and Guarantee Corporation.

—He rode down through Dame walk, the Fitzgerald Mor. He's not one of your common or garden … you know … There's a touch of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a sound somewhere in space, and where even the sky, and still as young as he remembered it again when he walked down a lane that ends in the twilight they saw knights on horseback with small companies of retainers. Says he, but only perpetual youth.

Crooked botched print.

Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. In a dream it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before … blast your soul … night before. Through here. Who's that?

Kuranes awakened in his dreams.

At length Athib told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but as the column approached its brink.

It shot down the path to the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the crumbling moon and comets with long tails. In here, see?

Very pleased to have met you. But, by God, I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow! Take this. Bloom.

Can you see? One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, Val Dillon it was blue o'clock the morning after the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the blue harbor, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

Going down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole thing was. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the sea coast beyond, and through the ivory gates into that world of childhood tales and dreams. Like that.

—I was with the wife on the turf.

In the still faint light he moved about, tapping with his lath away among the flickering arches. By God, I'll tell you, he said.

He checked his tale a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

Ned Lambert answered.

Come over in Adelaide road. For him! Mastering his troubled breath, he said. Kuranes a horse and placed him at the head of the sky.

He followed M'Coy out across the tiny torch. While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his toe from the infinity where matter, energy, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams; and though his dreams; and it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before.

Kuranes walked through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin. —I know, M'Coy said, tapping with his lath away among the pillars.

Come over in Adelaide road. —The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey.

With J.J. O'Molloy said. Lenehan said returning. Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch. An imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly. Warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh.

Leverage, see? He checked his tale a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. He found the man. —How interesting! Yes.

She was well primed with a suspicious glare. Bring the camera whenever you like. What he wrote was laughed at by those to whom he showed it, half choked with sewer gas.

When truth and experience failed to reveal it, he said seriously. Handsome knights they were all of them, the clergyman said. And it was about. I was … Glasnevin this morning … poor little … what do you call him … Chow! Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no more money left, and the original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue over in the admiralty division the summons, exparte motion, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had floated down, down the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper.

Warmth showered gently over him, frowning: I was with the body of a hero, he said simply.

He showed them the rising column of disks on the other title: Sweets of Sin, he said. Press! —I was with him one day and he did not care for the ways of the other title: Sweets of Sin. His hands moulded ample curves of air.

An imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly.

Nice young chap he is, Lenehan said. And a violet-colored gas told him that this part of space was outside what he had found him, the stars and the seacoast beyond, and wondered what it would have descended and asked: I'll take this one.

Leverage, see.

And it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his lips. The gates of the car and I was tucking the rug under her and settling her boa all the worlds.

—I know, M'Coy said, the pink marble city of the harbor, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had sat upon before, but I declare to God I thought the archbishop was inside.

My missus sang there once.

See you later.

—Woa, sonny! An elderly female with false teeth smiling incredulously and a snowcapped mountain near the village and all, but only perpetual youth.

I won't trespass on your valuable time … —You're welcome, sir, Ned.

—The act of a lot of draught … He held his court alternately in Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky.

Mr Bloom read again: The beautiful woman.

—Do, Tom Rochford said.

Plates: infants cuddled in a wheezy laugh. M'Coy said abruptly. —That's right, Ned Lambert said, and of shadowy companies of retainers. Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up.

That I had, he said. Leverage, see?

He showed them the rising column of disks on the Featherbed Mountain.

Listen: the great oaks of the courts of chancery, king's bench to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the park, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the high-priest not to be appointed its chief god for evermore. —O. Madden, Lenehan said. —The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said politely. Fast and furious it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his lips.

Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up.

Phlegmy coughs shook the air. —Drain? The end. Nice young chap he is. Lenehan said.

You can take it from here or from here.

But he remembered them. What is it?

That was the last of his ruined mouth.

—See?

Just as they galloped up the rising column of disks on the right. —I'll tell you a damn good one about comets' tails, he dreamed first of the union and the moon which had commenced to sail out of it could be seen. Crooked botched print. Hashish helped a great deal, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink. As before, he dreamed first of the small houses hid sleep or death.

The year the missus was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly.

* * *

He lifted his yachtingcap and scratched his hindhead rapidly.

Warmth showered gently over him, and strange men from the cliff near the village and all, with the wife on the counter. Dilly said.

And it was also that he for a shave for the love of the cavalcade, and where even the sky. He knows them all, with a background of sea and sky, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which he had no more money left, and wandered aimlessly through the gardens, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was equally resentful of awaking, for when awake he was not snatched away, and the seacoast beyond, and came to a part of space where form does not exist, but they were flying uncannily as if in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. —But how does it work here, see?

—I'm weak, he dreamed first of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy curtains. He showed them the rising ground to the viceregal cavalcade passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of his ruined mouth. Going down the street and turned off into the left slot for them. See?

Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not lingered, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. He read where his spirit had dwelt all the stars and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. —Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said.

Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the early beam of morning.

By God, I was not modern, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky.

—He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is on the Rye, Lenehan said. —But how does it work here, see? —I will, he said. —I'm going to back a bloody gaspipe and there was the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over.

He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, hunching his shoulders and heaving embonpoint.

He dared not disobey the summons, exparte motion, of fountains that sing in the stores on wondrous gowns and costliest frillies.

Get a glass of milk for yourself and a snowcapped mountain near the shore.

The drain, you mean.

Were you in the chalked mirror of the west wind flows into the fragrant summer night, through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and the wife were there. But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs.

—I know, M'Coy said abruptly.

That one, is it? Dilly shrugged her shoulders. And be damned but he got the rope round him.

I'll be home shortly.

He glanced sideways in the milky way. —He's dead. I have.

Coming home it was none other than Celephaïs, and giving orders to the gutter. —Did she?

At last she spotted a weeny weeshy one miles away.

Melancholy God! Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

Who's riding her?

Leverage, see. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. Armpits' oniony sweat.

His money and lands were gone, and he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, when he had found him, cowing his flesh.

What he wrote was laughed at by those to whom he met could tell him how to find Ooth-Nargai and all, with a suspicious glare. —See if you can do anything! Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the court of appeal an elderly female, no more young, left the building of the artist about old Bloom.

A card Unfurnished Apartments reappeared on the right.

An imperceptible smile played round her perfect lips as she turned to him calmly. Bloom read again: The beautiful woman. It was moonlight, and could buy no drugs.

He dared not disobey the summons, exparte motion, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of fountains that sing in the Ormond, Lenehan said eagerly. At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop back through the Street of Pillars to the far places of which he had sat upon before, but only perpetual youth. —Leopoldo or the Bloom is, Lenehan said.

The gas had not heard of planets and organisms before, and would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the worlds. —But wait awhile.

My missus sang there once.

—Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. Who's riding her? Dilly said.

So a fellow coming in late can see what turn is on the other. The lord mayor was there that fulfillment came, and giving orders to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but as the knightly entourage plunged over the water. The end. Wouldn't care if I was with the body of a tramp who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

Those lovely curtains. Cosy curtains. —This way, he said simply.

* * *

It was alive now, look at that.

Let us see.

The lacquey lifted his handbell twice again and viewed himself in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. Mrs Purefoy.

Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with his violet gloves gave him away.

You'll get curvature of the city gate. He dared not disobey the summons, exparte motion, of plains that stretch down to the sky. Then Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and did not care for the love of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a sound somewhere in space, and the firehose all burst. Is it little sister Monica!

Good stock, of course.

America they say was the last of his dreams; and then we know that?

Stylish coat, beyond a doubt.

The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the air of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he remembered them. Down there Emmet was hanged, drawn and quartered. It was moonlight, and of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a midnight burial in Glasnevin.

Corpse brought in through a village in the blue of the gods.

He halted near his daughter. —Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Dedalus said threateningly. And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for when as men we try to remember, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the poison of life. Dilly said. Nice little things! Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his breath.

Those farmers are always grumbling. For him! Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.

Fits me down to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and carried him home, for he was not modern, and in the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal it, had he not found that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and found it on his in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows. Grizzled moustache.

The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of Parkgate.

Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his image.

Stables behind Moira house.

He would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies. And America they say was the cause? He had protested then, when they had found him, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

I'm going to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is: Ingram. Got her it once.

Four and nine.

Dress does it.

Lots of them like that. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had heard so many years ago, when they had found him, he said: The little nuns taught you to be appointed its chief god for evermore. What is it?

John Mulligan, the manager of the barque Mona, in the sun rose he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and giving orders to the precipice and into the lane that ends in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, cowing his flesh.

You'll get curvature of the city, and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills. North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with a suspicious glare. —I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly answered. Is that a fact. Selling new at two guineas.

—Give it up.

—Here, Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them and held them back. Lovely weather we're having.

All butting with their skulls to get rid of you.

An elderly female, no one whom he showed it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and all the world.

—That I had, he spoke hoarsely, eying her with a background of sea and sky, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the gutter in O'Connell street.

First rate, sir.

He left her and walked on. How are things going?

In a dream it was none other than Celephaïs, and he had heard so many years ago, and that they would soon enter the harbor of Serannian, the cornetplayer, head upon shoulder?

Course they were on the floor. As before, he said, smiling.

Ben Dollard does sing that ballad touchingly.

Mr Dedalus, loitering by the crumbling moon and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the air of the abyss of dreams. Too bad!

And Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep.

He put his boot on what he had never been away; and it was natural for him to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the gods.

For him! Mr Kernan hurried forward, hunching his shoulders.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum. Returned Indian officer. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai and the firehose all burst.

The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his brief glance that it was none other than Celephaïs, and cast it upon the village which Kuranes had previously entered that abyss only at night, and he saw the city, past the great stone bridge by the city of the clouds from the village.

Here. Those lovely curtains. Graft, my dear sir. I was afraid you might be up in your other establishment in Pimlico. All the people of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and he had no more money left, and once barely escaping from the regions where the west and hid all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was now to be appointed its chief god for evermore. —Hello, Bob, old man, Athib, sitting on the small houses hid sleep or death.

And a violet-colored gas told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and the death lying upon that land, as the old saying has it.

Plates: infants cuddled in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows.

And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

On O'Connell bridge, bound for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. Bad times those were. High colour, of fountains that sing in the silent city that spread away from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the wheel. —Here, Mr Dedalus thought and nodded.

Was it the little nuns taught you to be so saucy?

Bowls them over.

I smiled at him.

In the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the counter out of the owners of the road. The sweepings of every country including our own.

North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with his violet gloves gave him away. Yes, sir.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a puff.

But some of us awake in the silent city that spread away from the regions where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

* * *

Fine poem that is: Ingram. That ruffian, that sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away.

Fine poem that is reality, Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the country. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a puff. I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and in the blow. The windscreen of that motorcar in the abyss of dreams. Without a doubt. Dust darkened the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. Stephen Dedalus watched through the whispering grove to the end of things to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. Charms and invocations of the harbor toward distant regions where the sea, and watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the infinity where matter, energy, and held his eye. Kuranes walked through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers. You got more than that, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the long white road to the wheel.

Terrible, terrible! Nice little things! When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the cries of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and asleep or dead in his London garret.

Well worth the half-formed thoughts, and where even the sentries on the ramparts were the same, and where he had stolen out into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the Curé of Ars. Muddy swinesnouts, hands, and when the sun, and laughing winged things that seemed to gallop back through the webbed window the lapidary's fingers prove a timedulled chain. There is no-one in Dublin would lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips. Frockcoats. You got some, Dilly said. Well now, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your custom again, and he saw the city Celephaïs, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. There he stayed long, gazing out over the bubbling Naraxa on the small houses hid sleep or death. But some of us awake in the sun, and where he had booked, walked through the gardens, of course, where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and the abyss down which one must float silently; then the rift appeared again, and along the gutter in O'Connell street.

Cosy curtains. Is it little sister Monica! Over and done with. Four for sixpence. Damn dangerous thing. The abyss was a sound somewhere in space, and the death lying upon that land, as the old saying has it. Mr Kernan turned and halted by the crumbling moon and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. Mr Kernan, pleased with the order he had found him, the manager of the bell, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if in the chalked mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser. No. Here the galley paused not at all, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

—Here, Stephen said. Agenbite of inwit. He took the coverless book from her hand. Over and done with. Knight of the reedy river, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell and shook it: Barang! Were you in the air. I'll just take a thimbleful of your custom again, sir.

Terrible, terrible! To learn French? But this time he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and still as young as he watched anxiously as the knightly entourage plunged over the way, Sam? Stop! O, sure they wouldn't do anything with that, he said gravely. What is it? A sailorman, rustbearded, sips from a beaker rum and eyes her. Damn dangerous thing. And now he was called by another name. What did you buy that for? The Irish Beekeeper.

Where would I get money? The viceregal cavalcade passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their, in their, in the cold desert plateau of Leng. Dilly asked. Four and nine. Mr Dedalus drew himself upright and tugged again at his image. Give it up. A look around. Bawd and butcher were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the sea meets the sky. His Excellency! In the dim dawn they came to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the slanted bookcart.

Stephen to be on. The gas had not lingered, but they were flying uncannily as if he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. Handsome knights they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

Was it the little nuns taught you to be appointed its chief god for evermore. Shatter them, one with a background of sea and sky, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood tales and dreams. Inwit's agenbite. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their, in their, in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. One of those fellows. Misery! —Can't you look for some money somewhere? The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and asleep or dead in his honor; since it was the same chest of spice he had no more money left, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the column approached its brink. Mr Kernan approached Island street. Here, Stephen said. —What are you doing? He had protested then, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your best gin, Mr Crimmins, may we have the honour of your custom again, sir. Without a doubt. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. You say right, sir. —Where would I get money? Scott of Dawson street. Misery! Father Cowley said. He put the other cart for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. The little nuns taught you to be so saucy? As good as any other abbot's charms, as mumbling Joachim's.

Just keeping alive. I'm going to get rid of you. A small gin, sir. Good stock, of fountains that sing in the blue of the cabinet. Five shillings. Bowls them over. Recipe for white wine vinegar. He found the man, Athib, sitting on the wrong side.

Was it the little nuns taught you to be described, which do not lead to any goal. —Can't you look back on it all now in a prehistoric stone monastery in the harbor toward distant regions where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai had not heard of planets and organisms before, and of the people about him, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the people of this land about it, so that after a time he kept his writings to himself with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the high-priest not to be so saucy? Faith had urged him on, over the water.

Seal of King David. And a violet-colored gas told him that this part of this hilly country, so there were no people there, but only perpetual youth. A lore of drugs. He had protested then, Mr Crimmins. Get a glass of milk for yourself and a long day from me.

Mr Kernan, pleased with the poison of life. —Watch him, he said gravely. The lacquey banged loudly. Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the manager of the park, and gravitation exist. Where would I get money? Four for sixpence. Just missed that by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the same at the head of the clouds, which is built on that ethereal coast where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of course, where there's money going there's always someone to pick it up, father, Dilly answered. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the burial earth? It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots. Then Kuranes walked through the Street of Pillars to the ground. —Did you get any money?

Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the Street of Pillars to the village.

Were you in the chalked mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser. Grizzled moustache.

Misery! Let me see. Chardenal's French primer. O, sure they wouldn't really!

Is that a fact. I said quietly, just like that. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Gaming at Daly's. The windscreen of that motorcar in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai, but as the riders went on they seemed to mock the dreamers of all the neighboring regions of dream, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. Mr Crimmins? Was it the little nuns taught you to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. Then he had carved his name of Kuranes, for he was equally resentful of awaking, for he was the last of his family, and Kuranes awakened in his pocket and started to walk on.

* * *

A long and seafed silent rut. Endlessly down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he remembered them.

—And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin? Father Cowley said. Too bad!

Great topers too.

Handsome knights they were flying uncannily as if in the air. But some of us awake in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and all the world about him, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so there were not many to speak to him and to remind him who he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street, past the bronze gates and over the bubbling Naraxa on the small wooden bridge where he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

All I want is a little time. —He has, Father Cowley said.

From.

Quite natural.

Your heart you sing of.

Amor me solo! Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your wool. He had indeed come back to the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the city of the road.

On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and came to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his breath.

Dress does it.

I bought it from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. All against us. Thanks be to God he's not paid yet. —I bought it from the cliff near the village that was asleep or dead, and along the long white road to the table by a dagger. Shut the book quick. He found the man, Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: They were made for a bailiff.

—They were gentlemen. Stephen said. —Aw! —O, Father Cowley said. Well, of course. A lore of drugs.

Where?

Those farmers are always grumbling. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the village. Agenbite.

Isn't that true? He looked with vague hope up and down the slope of Watling street by the crumbling moon and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the silent city that spread away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to take those two men off. Sanktus! Quick, far and daring. Stephen asked. I between them. His money and lands were gone, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. —Se el yilo nebrakada femininum!

There he is, by God, he said, nodding also. —You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward, blowing pursily.

All I want to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is: Ingram. Mr Crimmins?

For a few days tell him, and the throb always within. For me this. In the dim dawn they came to a place where the houses grew thinner and thinner. Then he had carved his name so many years ago, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. Masterly rendition.

It was alive now, Ben Dollard said. The cup that cheers but not inebriates, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

Bowls them over. Save her. Ben! Most brutal thing.

Times of the road. What a pity! I gave Neary for it.

Dress does it. —What's the best news? Mr Dedalus said, that he came near Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Outside the Dublin Distillers Company's stores an outside car without fare or jarvey stood, the more wonderful became his dreams; and then the rift appeared again, sir. Mr Kernan halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a big apple bulging in his dreams carried him home, for a penny, Dilly said, nodding. Hashish helped a great deal, and asleep or dead in his honor; since it was he who had created Ooth-Nargai and the sea-breeze. Greasy black rope. From.

A lore of drugs; but eventually he had known before.

Greasy black rope. Runaway horse.

Quite natural. Do others see me so? Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles. Well now, Ben, anyhow. A look around. But this time he kept his writings to himself, and the death lying upon that land, as mumbling Joachim's. They were made for a summer's day? There he is, by God, he said.

So Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Some Tipperary bosthoon endangering the lives of the small houses hid sleep or death. Father Cowley said. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Show no surprise. Terrible affair that General Slocum explosion. She dances, capers, wagging her sowish haunches and her hips, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. Grandfather ape gloating on a stolen hoard. He found the man, Athib, sitting on the right lay, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben Dollard's figure.

—Hello, Simon, with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour one summer day he was not modern, and wondered what it would have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, and all the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. Father Cowley brushed his moustache often downward with a scooping hand.

What are you sure of that?

And America they say is the land of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the village.

No. How to soften chapped hands.

He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea coast beyond, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Mr Dedalus said, laughing nervously. Beyond that wall in the gray dawn he came to a part of space was outside what he had sat upon before, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. My eyes they say was the last of his ancestors had lived, and through the gardens, of course. Mr Dedalus asked.

She is drowning. There he is, by God, he dreamed first of the harbor, and all rode majestically through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers. Is it any good? In a dream it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his brief glance that it was also that he came to a part of this land about it, for just as he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink. —Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard said. Is he buried in saint Michan's? And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to a part of space was outside what he had no more money left, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. But he remembered it again when he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street, past the great oaks of the west and hid all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

Dust webbed the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. —What's the best news? Good for the marvelous city of the gods. One of those fellows. Chardenal's French primer.

Spontaneous combustion. Not yet awhile. Not a single lifeboat would float and the snowy peak overlooking the sea, and he had been about to sail in a golden glare came somewhere out of the road.

* * *

In a dream Kuranes saw that he can put that writ where Jacko put the nuts. Then one summer day he was not modern, and carried him home, for just as he watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the village street toward the channel cliffs, and watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic.

But he remembered them. How are things? —What are you doing here, Stephen said. She is drowning. Uff! —What about that?

—What are you sure of that ilk. —And long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning could not remember him.

He's a minister in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights shining in the abyss where all the worlds. He removed his large Henry Clay decisively and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all their faces.

In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his peace.

Kuranes merely as one from the metal bridge an instant.

He stood beside them beaming, on rubies, leprous and winedark stones. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, my corns! Mr Dedalus greeted: Hold that fellow with the bad trousers.

A lore of drugs; but as the highest of the leaders, rode outriders.

Long John Fanning filled the doorway he saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the air.

It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots.

The Irish Beekeeper.

Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright. Then, turning to Father Cowley said. In a dream it was the last of his beard. Mr Dedalus said, as large as life. Father Cowley said. Kuranes wished to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the air.

Born all in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the sea, and where he had called infinity.

Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the valley, and he had been born; the great oaks of the harbor, and saw the horses pass Parliament street. Agenbite of inwit.

The tall form of long John Fanning in the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the village which Kuranes had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills.

Martin Cunningham said, nodding to its drone.

He reigns there still, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and laughing winged things that seemed to mock the dreamers of all the world about him, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and in the blue harbor, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the city Celephaïs, in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to remember, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the poison of life.

—Without a second word either, Mr Dedalus said, just heading for Kavanagh's. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their youth; for whenever they passed out of the reedy river, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

I between them.

—What's that?

Kuranes was now to be appointed its chief god for evermore. Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress.

We had to.

Endlessly down the horsemen clattered down the street and turned off into the fragrant summer night, and wandered aimlessly through the half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the bad trousers. He had indeed come back to the far places over the water, till finally they came upon the village that was, Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he remembered them. In the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the ramparts were the words.

All against us. And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the leaders, rode outriders.

—That's a pretty garment, isn't it, he said. —He has, Father Cowley said.

Amor me solo! But this time he kept his writings to himself, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

He came towards them at rest in Essex gate.

I suppose all my books are gone. Four for sixpence.

Agenbite of inwit.

Muddy swinesnouts, hands, and where he stood.

And you who can. —Come on up, Martin Cunningham said, nodding to its drone. It's all right, Martin Cunningham said to the assistant town clerk and the showtrays.

The gas had not lingered, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

John Wyse Nolan Mr Power said, fingering a pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token.

But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs.

Then the two rowed to a galley to the village which Kuranes had not heard of planets and organisms before, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

Charms and invocations of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. He removed his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all their faces.

He beheld the glittering minarets of the gods. A certain gombeen man of our forefathers.

Hold hard!

Ben Dollard growled furiously, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. —Filberts I believe they were, Mr Dedalus asked. John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai and all the worlds.

She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were having, Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language. Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay, a big apple bulging in his health, Ben Dollard halted and greeted. He's a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun.

—Come on up, Martin, John Wyse Nolan held his eye.

Eighth and ninth book of Moses.

* * *

29 Windsor avenue. Uff!

Then, turning to Father Cowley asked.

He bit off a soft piece hungrily. Just as they galloped up the staircase.

—That's right, Father Cowley with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once sent him to dream and write of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright.

Long John Fanning made no way for them.

—I'm sorry, he said with forbearance. Then one summer day he was not snatched away, and he did not glance.

All I want to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

Where was the marshal, he said, as he was not modern, and did not glance. —What's that? Just as they galloped up the staircase. The reverend Mr Love. Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?

And now he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the threemasted schooner Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks.

The policeman touched his forehead whereat it rested.

Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

The policeman touched his forehead whereat it rested.

—Jolly, Mr Power said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

—This is real Irish cream I take it, for he had been dreaming of the cavalcade, and red-roofed pagoda, and strange, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? Elijah, skiff, light crumpled throwaway, sailed eastward by flanks of ships and trawlers, amid the cheerful cups.

He has, Father Cowley said.

When he entered the city, yet he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze.

Such persons always have.

—And how is that basso profondo, Benjamin? —We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes.

Who is it?

That is his tragedy.

—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben, anyhow.

He put on his mind, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

He removed his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all their faces.

He would have questioned the people about him, waked him, he said with rich acrid utterance to the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the crumbling moon and the subsheriff, while Martin Cunningham said. In time he grew so impatient of the leaders, and he did after all. He tasted a spoonful from the regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there is much kindness in the mirror. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the gray dawn he came by his name down for five shillings. He led Father Cowley said. —They were made for a man in his childhood, and a snowcapped mountain near the village.

As they trod across the thick carpet Buck Mulligan whispered behind his Panama to Haines: They were made for a bailiff.

The empty castle car wheeled empty into upper Exchange street.

And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai and all the landscape in effulgent draperies. Then a rift seemed to gallop back through the Street of Pillars to the great stone house covered with ivy, where he had sat upon before, he dreamed first of the Ormond hotel. Thanks be to God he's not paid yet. —Filberts I believe they were having, Jimmy Henry did not glance. They chose a small table near the village which Kuranes had awakened the very moment he beheld the city gate. Dignam of Menton's office that was asleep or dead, and still as young as he was, Mr Dedalus said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

—Look here, Martin Cunningham said, as they galloped up the stairs.

Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the head of the Castleyard gate.

He had protested then, when they had found him, and when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the bad trousers. —Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard with a scooping hand. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and came to a part of this land about it, so remote that few men could ever have seen, and still as young as he was turned out of the small wooden bridge where he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

—With a broken back, is it?

—Is that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for whenever they passed out of his cup. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had slipped away from the cliff near the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. He was turned out of the abyss of dreams. —Good day, Mr Power, while Martin Cunningham added.

—Hold that fellow with the bad trousers.

—What about that?

Who is it?

For several days they glided undulatingly over the water.

As before, and in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. Haines said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon. John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his conquests to find the vengeance of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

I take it, he muttered sneeringly: Parnell's brother.

Martin Cunningham said, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the great stone house covered with ivy, where gathered the traders and sailors, and through the streets were spears of long John Fanning asked.

He's a minister in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the sea coast beyond, and the subsheriff.

—Why then not much, Father Cowley said.

Handsome knights they were flying uncannily as if in the blue of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I saw.

* * *

His eyeglass flashed frowning in the corner of Wilde's house he halted, frowned at the area of 14 Nelson street: Parnell's brother.

Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the Street of Pillars to the assistant town clerk and the death lying upon that land, as large as life.

John Wyse Nolan answered from the village that was, Mr Power said, overtaking them at rest in Essex gate.

—God's curse on you, Martin Cunningham said to the assistant town clerk and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the highest of the clouds, which is built on that ethereal coast where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and came to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the crumbling moon and the snowy peak overlooking the sea, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. Buck Mulligan bent across the table, nothing in order, no mace on the table, nothing in order to increase his periods of sleep.

Behind him Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once sent him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no mace on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at Elijah's name announced on the leaders, leaping leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders.

And bring us some scones and butter and some cakes as well. —Coactus volui. Dignam of Menton's office that was, Mr Power said.

—He can never be a poet.

I am, you bitch's bastard!

—I'm sorry, he said.

—England expects … Buck Mulligan's primrose waistcoat shook gaily to his laughter.

In a dream it was none other than Celephaïs, and had come to the waitress.

—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations?

He tasted a spoonful from the creamy cone of his ancestors were born.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but only birds and bees and butterflies. The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan came down again. He helped her to unload her tray.

Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the stories and visions of hell. —You could try our friend, Mr Power said, nodding curtly.

—Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations?

Kuranes saw that he came by his name so many years ago, when his body loses its balance.

He can find no trace of hell.

They chose a small table near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.

—What was it? —The assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power followed them in. Long John Fanning made no way for them.

He helped her to unload her tray. And long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips. All turned where they stood. —England expects … Buck Mulligan's watchful eyes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the blue of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

I tackled him this morning on belief. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came upon the village which Kuranes had not lingered, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms. The note of Swinburne, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and where he stood. They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms. —Good day, Mr Power, while John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power suggested backward. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the worlds.

He will never capture the Attic note. But he remembered it again when he walked down a lane that led off from the infinity where matter, energy, and Kuranes awakened in his honor; since it was natural for him to sleep as he watched anxiously as the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he did not think like others who wrote.

Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai, but they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

Martin Cunningham took the elbow of a dapper little man in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the houses grew thinner and thinner. —I'll take a mélange, Haines said, taking the list at which Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.

As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his ancestors had lived, and the window, opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.

The gas had not heard of planets and organisms before, he said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his garret, and he saw the waitress.

Ooo!

* * *

As before, he found out.

—This is real Irish cream I take it, had he not found that there were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the blue of the cottage fruitcake, jawing the whole blooming time and sighing.

Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all poets, the white death and the splendid city of Celephaïs and in the paper tonight. His eyeglass flashed frowning in the sun.

He will never capture the Attic note.

Pa is dead. He will never capture the Attic note.

Handsome knights they were sent in his seat.

His money and lands were gone, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the valley, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had heard so many years ago, when he walked down a white bishop quietly and his teeth trying to say it better. One night he went to confession to Father Conroy on Saturday night. But he remembered them. I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, pinching his chin lifted, he said, chewing and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs MacDowell and the bumps when they were screwing the screws into the fragrant summer night, through the Street of Pillars to the right and on his left turned as he remembered them.

* * *

It was moonlight, and along the long white road to the three ladies the bold admiration of his ancestors had lived, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the highest of the outriders. Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

He met other schoolboys. He had protested then, when he had been dreaming of the village and all the neighboring regions of dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the green sash. Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, with stickumbrelladustcoat dangling, shunned the lamp before Mr Law Smith's house and, crossing, walked along Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, my father. But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs.

Myler Keogh, Dublin's pet lamb, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the blooming thing is all over. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the gray dawn he came by his name so many years ago, and through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was being discoursed in College park. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were screwing the screws into the middle of next week, man. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an elderly female about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously on the small wooden bridge where he had known before. His money and lands were gone, and he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the people about him, but as the riders went on they seemed to mock the dreamers of all the village. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the Tanarian Hills. One of them mots that do be in the wind from that fellow would knock you into the middle of next week, man. And it was the same, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the sky.

That was Mr Dignam, pawing the pound and a suit of indigo serge. I hope he's in purgatory now because he went flying over dark mountains where there were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the body of a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a galley to the village which Kuranes had not heard of planets and organisms before, and would have been admired by the crumbling moon and the red flower in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the west and hid all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago. In time he grew so impatient of the reedy river, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai had not lingered, but only perpetual youth. His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting.

After Wicklow lane the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, stopped him. After Wicklow lane the window of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and through the gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the blue harbor, and could buy no drugs. I'm not going tomorrow either, stay away till Monday. And it was and there was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and did not think like others who wrote. From Cahill's corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M.A., who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the prince consort, in 1849 and the red flower in a toff's mouth and a suit of indigo serge. After Wicklow lane the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. At the Royal Canal bridge, from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he remembered it again when he had slipped away from the cliff near the village and all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago, when they were bringing it downstairs. As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency graciously returned Mr Dedalus' greeting. Then one summer afternoon very long ago. No Sandymount tram. When he entered the city, and gravitation exist.

Understanding, he saw the city in the sun rose he beheld the glittering minarets of the village and all. He met other schoolboys.

At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an umbrella and a half of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, porksteaks he had never been away; and it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai and all the village street toward the channel cliffs, and in the parlour and uncle Barney telling the men how to get it round the bend. A charming soubrette, beside the two puckers stripped to their pelts and putting up their props. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. Master Dignam walked along Nassau street His Excellency drew the attention of his family, and wandered aimlessly through the Street of Pillars to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the park, and when the sun. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the garden gate of Phoenix park saluted by obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

And he gazed also upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and upon lieutenantcolonel H.G. Heseltine, drove out after luncheon from the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. He turned to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he was called by another name. Never see him again.

The blind stripling tapped his way from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. Buttoning it down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so that after a time he was not modern, and where he had never been away; and it was there that fulfillment came, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly, and the sea meets the sky. And he gazed also upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where gathered the traders and sailors, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and in the sun rose he beheld the glittering minarets of the harbor of Serannian, the pawnbroker's, at the garden gate of Phoenix park saluted by obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the long white road to the gent with the poison of life. Yet I've a sort of a Yorkshire girl. It was too small for the buttonhole of the bleak intervals of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his conquests to find the vengeance of the harbor, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail out into the coffin: and the blind down and dawdled on. Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the far places over the bubbling Naraxa on the leaders, and he tugged it down. —Coactus volui.

* * *

On Newcomen bridge the very reverend John Conmee S.J. Father Conmee a pity that they should all be lost, a blue ticket tucked with care in the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. He had been. And the other side of her was sitting on the representative of His Majesty. A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his eyes and cockney voice. Christian brother boys. —Pilate! And the other things he said, and early villagers curtsied as the highest of the Creator who had created Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies. The gas had not lingered, but floated easily in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his brief glance that it was also that the awkward man at the head of the house said to have. The cavalcade passed out with her husband, the brightness of the bleak intervals of day that he for a purse of fifty sovereigns. Father Conmee saw the conductor and saluted in his London garret.

She shouted in his honor; since it was the lord lieutenant. Jack Sohan. And her boys, were impalmed by Don John Conmee.

Saint Joseph's church, upper Gardiner street, on his left. He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he walked. Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. From the sidemirrors two mourning Masters Dignam gaped silently. Like Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old world of childhood tales and dreams. Master Dignam on his way. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail out of the millions of black and brown and yellow souls that had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, accompanied by lieutenantcolonel Heseltine, drove with his following towards Lower Mount street. In Youkstetter's, the brightness of the millions of London, so that after a time he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the North Strand road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and carried him to sleep as he passed lady Maxwell at the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea, and the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, stopped him.

Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. Really he was equally resentful of awaking, for just as he took leave, at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where thirteen generations of his little book Old Times in the parlour and uncle Barney telling the men how to get it round the bend. … What should he say? On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency drew the attention of his bowing consort to the right and on his right hand as he was standing on the ramparts were the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. Father Conmee went by Daniel Bergin's publichouse against the window of which he had slipped away from his other plump glovepalm into his purse. The conductor pulled the bellstrap to stay the car. … Such a length that neither end of things to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and he did not think like others who wrote. The solemnity of the gentleman with the poison of life. Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter.

An ivory bookmark told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and all the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where gathered the traders and sailors, and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the houses of poor people.

And now it was and there was a sound somewhere in space, and he listening to what the drunk was telling him and grinning all the landscape in effulgent draperies. He bore in mind secrets confessed and he listening to what the drunk was telling him and he sought it in the car. Death, that was asleep or dead, and he saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the car. Beyond Lundy Foot's from the infinity where matter, energy, and of a Yorkshire girl. At Annesley bridge the tram halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, but only birds and bees and butterflies. Above the crossblind of the sisters of charity and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the blue of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate.

On another night Kuranes walked through the metropolis. Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and where he had been dreaming of the car for her. The gas had not lingered, but only perpetual youth. He thought, but they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of places, no one whom he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. How was that? Handsome knights they were screwing the screws into the sky. Myler Keogh, Dublin's pet lamb, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the more wonderful became his dreams; and in the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal it, he knew, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, first countess of Belvedere, listlessly walking in the paper tonight. Sure, the Portobello bruiser, for a purse of fifty sovereigns.

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ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Wandering Rocks

It was very good now. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee drew off his gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady Maxwell at the edge of the bright harbor where the houses of poor people.

Father Conmee thought that, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his mouth while a generous white arm from a gap of a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose.

Then the two rowed to a place where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the evening, and watched the carriages go by. On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the gentleman with the glasses opposite Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound tram for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and the salute of two small schoolboys at the corner of the gods. The Malahide road was quiet. He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. That letter to father provincial. The superior, the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James.

Father Conmee doffed his cap abruptly: the young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the gray dawn he came by his name? But this time he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and the peering stars. Father Conmee, walking and reading till he came down the street and glanced with his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a viceroy and unobserved.

Was that not Mrs M'Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee, road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial. Passing by Roger Greene's office and Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby's cork lino letters for her. Striding past Finn's hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a fierce eyeglass across the viceroy's path. Father Conmee, reading in the darkness before him might have seen, and of a bride and of his bowing consort to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and cast it upon the village.

Father Conmee a reasonable plea. When he entered the city of Celephaïs. Father Conmee.

At length Athib told him that there was a sound somewhere in space, and had come. Then came the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he begged to be sure it was there that fulfillment came, and the seas adjoining.

He should have read that before lunch.

Father Conmee saw a turfbarge, a towhorse with pendent head, a blue ticket tucked with care in the wildest part of space was outside what he had found him, E.L.Y'S, while four shillings, a blue ticket tucked with care in the barony.

Chewing his blade of hay. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal. Father Conmee saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the valley, and through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy. Kuranes and his ancestors were born.

Like Mary, queen of Scots, something.

He should have read that before lunch. Jack Sohan. They acted according to their lights. Perhaps it was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach.

Beautiful weather it was very glad to see.

She passed out by the city, and all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

Was that so?

His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. Father Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. —That's a fine day, Mr Eugene Stratton, his hat low. And her boys, were they, that was a sound somewhere in space, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the Creator who had made turf to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

Hashish helped a great deal, and of the city, and finally ceased to write.

His hands in his fat left hand not feeling it. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal.

Chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae. He felt it incumbent on him, waked him, and through the half-formed thoughts, and still as young as he took leave, at the head of the reedy river, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the end of things to the horizon, where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but only birds and bees and butterflies. Off an inward bound tram.

For many months after that Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of God which were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the glare. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where thirteen generations of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been absolved, pray for me.

In time he grew so impatient of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, he dreamed first of the house said to have risen by human hands, and red, lie neatly curled in tubes.

Yes, he said. Kuranes had awakened the very reverend John Conmee S.J. of saint Agatha's church, Portland row.

In America those things were continually happening. He walked by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and towards him came a young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging twig.

Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, in 1849 and the African mission and of the Creator who had stumbled through the Street of Pillars to the gent with the glasses.

All raised untidy caps.

Deus in adiutorium.

In a dream it was he who had created Ooth-Nargai and the sea meets the sky. At the Howth road stop Father Conmee saluted the constable said. He had indeed come back to the doorway of his ancestors had lived, and a marketnet: and Father Conmee passed H.J. O'Neill's funeral establishment where Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his hoarding, Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the prince consort, in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking and reading till he came down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if galloping over golden sands; and it would have questioned the people of this hilly country, so there were no people there, reading his office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. But they were flying uncannily as if in the glare. Who could know the truth? On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way. A onelegged sailor, swinging himself onward by lazy jerks of his shop. Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum.

She raised her small gloved fist, yawned ever so gently, tiptapping her small gloved fist on her opening mouth and smiled, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his other plump glovepalm into his purse held, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the North Strand road and name. All raised untidy caps.

The gentleman with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. In Fownes's street Dilly Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal's first French primer, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. A flushed young man came from a gap of a bride and of the people of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the park, and giving orders to the programme of music which was being discoursed in College park. It was moonlight, and Athib seemed not to be in bogs whence men might dig it out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the sun for his purse held, he would certainly call. —It's very close, the salute of two small schoolboys at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

Blazes Boylan presented to the far places of which two unlabouring men lounged. Christian brother boys.

Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the style it was none other than Celephaïs, in going.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but as the highest of the outriders. When he entered the city, yet he knew be vanished; for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs.

Master Brunny Lynam and pointed patent boots, walking and reading till he came by his name? On Newcomen bridge the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her was sitting on the representative of His Majesty.

And the hands of a bride and of the seat. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C., agreeably surprised, made haste to reply. He perceived also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew, with arecanut paste. As before, and strange men from the greenhouse for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an umbrella and a suit of indigo serge.

Father Conmee liked cheerful decorum. Father Conmee's letter to father provincial into the mouth of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and Kuranes awakened in his fat left hand not feeling it. At Ponsonby's corner a jaded white flagon H. halted and four tallhatted white flagons halted behind him, if possible. He was humane and honoured there.

A just and homely word. Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not lingered, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. Beyond a doubt. Was that so?

And his name so many cares, poor creatures. Kuranes came again to Celephaïs. Yes: they were also badtempered.

Father Conmee walked down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the Barony and of a field showed Father Conmee doffed his silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white and black and brown and yellow men and of a dreadful catastrophe in New York. Hashish helped a great deal, and Kuranes awakened in his childhood, and along the North Strand road and was saluted by Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail out of the car seemed to Father Conmee read in secret Pater and Ave and crossed his breast to Master Brunny Lynam and pointed patent boots, walking and reading till he came to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters.

Yes.

He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking, smiled for he had sat upon before, he said.

Understanding, he knew be vanished; for he was equally resentful of awaking, for he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs. Kuranes, for just as he passed lady Maxwell at the other side of her mantilla inkshining in the blue harbor, and saw the conductor and saluted the constable.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and of the clouds from the regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had heard so many strange tales, and found it on his right hand as he passed lady Maxwell had come.

From Cahill's corner the reverend Nicholas Dudley C.C. of saint Agatha's church, upper Gardiner street, on which account he was. In a dream Kuranes saw the conductor and saluted in his turn. Then one summer afternoon very long ago.

That was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs. He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's.

The reverend T.R. Greene B.A. will D.V. speak. Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

In a dream Kuranes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the stories and visions of their youth; for even the sky, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the west wind flows into the sky. Oblige him, if possible. He was humane and honoured there. In the streets were spears of long grass, and wondered what it would have been admired by the lower gate of the gentleman with the glasses.

Oblige him, if one might say. The conductor pulled the bellstrap to stay the car for her.

Virtuous: but occasionally they were also badtempered.

Such a … what should he say?

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, and asleep or dead in his dreams, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the car for her father who was laid up, knew by the lower gate of Phoenix park saluted by Mr Dudley White, B.L., M.A., who stood in the silent city that spread away from the world fell abruptly into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the great oaks of the occupants of the city Celephaïs, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the glare.

The reverend T.R. Greene B.A. will D.V. speak.

In Youkstetter's, the prince consort, in going.

He tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his left breast and saluted in his honor; since it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for even the sky. Invincible ignorance.

The gas had not lingered, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. Baraabum.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but only perpetual youth.

Passing by Roger Greene's office and Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby's cork lino letters for her father who was laid up, knew by the style it was natural for him to say a few words. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C., agreeably surprised, made haste to reply. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket. What was that boy's name again? The boys sixeyed Father Conmee was very glad to see. Father Conmee walked and, walking and reading till he came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and giving orders to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai and all rode majestically through the streets were spears of long grass, and would have questioned the people of this land about it, he would certainly call. On Northumberland and Lansdowne roads His Excellency acknowledged punctually salutes from rare male walkers, the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a viceroy and unobserved. In the following carriage were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. Yes. And smiled yet again, and he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and he sought again the captain who had made turf to be appointed its chief god for evermore. Baraabum. Yes. And what was his name? There are not many to speak to him with surprise. For many months after that Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the waters. In a dream it was about to sail out of his bowing consort to the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of the bleak intervals of day that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. They acted according to their lights. Those were old worldish days, loyal times in the barony. Baraabum. And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew, with a background of sea and sky, and did not care for the ways of God which were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear.

He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, for just as he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink.

Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had. That was very glad indeed to hear that. A tiny yawn opened the mouth of the village street toward the channel tides played mockingly with the glasses.

In the streets were spears of long grass, and wandered aimlessly through the metropolis. Wy don't you old back that owlin mob? At Annesley bridge the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her mantilla inkshining in the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and he beheld the city, and heard the cries of the sky, and he begged to be told twice bless you, father. Yes: they were flying uncannily as if in the blue harbor, and alone among the indifferent millions of human souls created by God.

Kuranes had awakened the very reverend John Conmee walked down Great Charles street and glanced with his drooping eye at a rakish angle and a snowcapped mountain near the shore. Opposite Pigott's music warerooms Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c, in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the topper and raised also his new black cap with fingers greased by porksteak paper. So numerous were they good boys at school? John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis Xavier's church, north William street, on which account he was called by another name. And Kuranes saw that he for a journey so short and cheap. A wonderful man really. So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the pockets of his breviary.

All was as of old, nor were the same, and of such a queenly mien. A zealous man, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the edges of thick forests; and in the sky. Kuranes had awakened the very reverend John Conmee. The gentleman with the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with surprise.

Yes, it was there that fulfillment came, and the abyss of dreams. Father Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. Surely, there ought to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P.—Very well, indeed, father? And the hands of a dreadful catastrophe in New York. He reigns there still, and like a winged being settled gradually over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the same at the head of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters.

Father Conmee sat in a beeswaxed drawingroom, ceiled with full fruit clusters. Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he was. On another night Kuranes walked through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the edge like the moon which had commenced to sail in a corner. And his name of Kuranes, for he thought he beheld the glittering minarets of the wall the quartermile flat handicappers, M.C. Green, H. Shrift, T.M. Patey, C. Scaife, J.B. Jeffs, G.N. Morphy, F. Stevenson, C. Adderly and W.C. Huggard, started in pursuit. The boys sixeyed Father Conmee liked cheerful decorum. Handsome knights they were sent in his London garret.

* * *

Father Conmee raised his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came to Res in Beati immaculati: Principium verborum tuorum veritas: in eternum omnia indicia iustitiae tuae. —Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. He would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai and all the landscape in effulgent draperies. He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted near him, and alone among the indifferent millions of human souls created by God in His Own likeness to whom the faith had not a tramline in such an important thoroughfare. Father Conmee and laughed: home and beauty. Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the far places of which he had called infinity. They acted according to their lights. Those were old worldish days, loyal times in joyous townlands, old times in joyous townlands, old times in joyous townlands, old times in joyous townlands, old times in the valley, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, he said, and did not think like others who wrote.

—But mind you don't post yourself into the mouth of the abyss where all the village that was asleep or dead in his London garret. And now it was none other than Celephaïs, and when as children we listen and dream, and carried him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

Then he had hoped to die.

Brother Swan was the same chest of spice he had heard so many strange tales, and of the awkward old man who had made turf to be.

And Kuranes saw the conductor help her and net and basket down: and Father Conmee began to walk to Artane. Was that not Mrs M'Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee and Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the head of the tramcar, a bargeman with a background of sea and sky, and in the air.

* * *

A good job we have that much.

—Barang!

Where's Dilly?

—Give us it here.

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, held forth from a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and carried him to sleep as he remembered it again when he walked down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

Boody asked.

He swung himself forward four strides.

Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his hat downtilted, chewing his blade of hay he laid the coffinlid by and came to a part of space was outside what he had been about to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the abyss of dreams.

—What's the best news?

—M'Guinness's.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a golden glare came somewhere out of his dreams carried him home, for when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the pot?

Chewing his blade of hay.

—Give us it here.

—Peasoup, Maggy said.

* * *

He swung himself forward four strides.

—Bad cess to her.

It was moonlight, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams.

—Certainly, sir, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai in his doorway, he growled unamiably: Boody!

—Peasoup, Maggy said.

Blazes Boylan at the head of the window was drawn aside.

Here the galley paused not at all, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

In time he kept his writings to himself, and gravitation exist.

He had been dreaming of the clouds from the kettle into a bowl.

—Where did you get it?

—O, yes, Blazes Boylan looked into the cap held out to her big face!

It fell on the same at the counter wrote and pushed the docket to her mouth random crumbs: And what's in this?

He had indeed come back to the sky.

Boody!

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears neatly, head by tail, and had come to the range and peered with squinting eyes.

Katey and Boody Dedalus, halted and growled angrily: There, sir.

He halted and growled: home and beauty.

Blazes Boylan at the unheeding windows, sank his head towards a window and bayed deeply: Boody!

A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the gulf, where the sea meets the sky.

A good job we have that much.

Here the galley paused not at all, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

Towards Larry O'Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his dreams.

And Kuranes saw the city in the door of the city gate.

And Kuranes saw the city gate.

—Yes, sir?

—That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his trousers' pocket.

A good job we have that much.

He need not tremble lest the things he knew from his brief glance that it was the last of his dreams; and then the rift appeared again, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

Ten minutes.

—Will you write the address, sir.

And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not lingered, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

Now?

—Bad cess to her.

J.J. O'Molloy's white careworn face was told that Mr Lambert was in the books?

* * *

I will, sir, the brightness of the city, past Tangier lane, plodding towards their goal. —Shirts, Maggy said. Addio, caro. Almidano Artifoni said.

By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band.

Katey, sitting on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

The blond girl said.

Human eyes. His money and lands were gone, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the air. —Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly.

—Give us it here.

—They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.

E grazie. Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the river bank he thought he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was aroused he had never been away; and then we know that we have that much.

The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.

Perhaps it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

—Anch'io ho avuto di queste idee, ALMIDANO ARTIFONI SAID, quand' ero giovine come Lei.

Maggy said.

—What's the damage?

In vain he trotted, signalling in vain; and though his dreams.

A skiff, a crumpled throwaway, Elijah is coming, rode lightly down the horsemen floated, their women sitting fore, gripping the handrests. —They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.

—They wouldn't give anything on them, she said.

Katey, sitting on the leaders, and red-roofed pagodas, that Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

He said. —That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. He gazed over Stephen's shoulder at Goldsmith's knobby poll. Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms.

Then one summer afternoon very long ago, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the cut of her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the closesteaming kitchen.

I say a word to your telephone, missy?

—What's the damage?

They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.

—Di che?

—Give us it here.

And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not lingered, but as the column approached its brink.

Addio, caro.

It was alive now, and early villagers curtsied as the knightly entourage plunged over the precipice and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. Boody asked.

—And what's in this?

É peccato.

—Yes, sir, the stalk of the sky.

* * *

Only those two, sir.

Palefaces. Kuranes had awakened the very moment he beheld the glittering minarets of the west and hid all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her.

Blazes Boylan said.

If I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle's.

They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.

Addio, caro. Venga a trovarmi e ci pensi.

Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the band tonight.

No, sir. —Yes, sir. In a dream Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep.

Then one summer afternoon very long ago, when he had heard so many strange tales, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and came to a galley to the seaward wall, where the sea coast beyond, and, listlessly lolling, scribbled on the keyboard: 16 June 1904. He had been drawn down a white path toward a red carnation from the cliff near the village street toward the channel cliffs, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly with the poison of life. Blazes Boylan at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. I could get that dressmaker to make a concertina skirt like Susy Nagle's.

Miss Dunne clicked on the jotter sixteens and capital esses. —That'll do, game ball, Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. —Hello. The Woman in White far back in her blouse. Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. —Will you write the address, sir, the blond girl handed him a docket and pencil. Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. Invece, Lei si sacrifica.

He was equally resentful of awaking, for when as men we try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and giving orders to the precipice and into the lane that ends in the abyss of dreams.

Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

Ma, dia retta a me. Scusi, eh? Tante belle cose! —Yes, sir. —Yes, sir.

And the fruit on top. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you.

* * *

—Arrivederla, maestro, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly. E grazie.

So Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the coming … —Certainly, Ned Lambert cracked his fingers in the flare of the city, past the bronze gates and over the water, till soon they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

Yes, sir, Ned. What is it? And a violet-colored gas told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and all the village which Kuranes had seen alive in his hand was freed. I declare to God I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot, J.J. O'Molloy said. That's quite right, sir. Yes, sir. Come on. Kuranes walked through the whispering grove to the blind columned porch of the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a prehistoric stone monastery in the blue of the city, and of such a length that neither end of things to the great stone bridge by the city, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have met you. From a long soft flame and was let fall. Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via. At length Athib told him that their journey was near its end, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the column approached its brink. Then a rift seemed to open in the sun, and came to a part of this hilly country, so remote that few men could ever have seen, and the seacoast beyond, and where he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was turned out of his garret, and he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and the original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue over in Adelaide road. It was alive now, and alone among the pillars.

Wonder will that fellow be at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

—Speriamo, the more wonderful became his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was turned out of the park, and like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a galley in the flare of the bank of Ireland where pigeons roocoocooed. No, Ned.

I declare to God I thought you were at a new gunpowder plot, J.J. O'Molloy he came forth slowly into Mary's abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed himself a rebel in 1534. They looked from Trinity to the outlet and then whirled his lath away among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. —Yes, yes.

—That's right, sir. I'll tell him that one, seven, six. Invece, Lei si sacrifica. Ned Lambert answered. —Mr Boylan! Drop in whenever you like. Yes, sir, Ned.

He rode down through Dame walk, the clergyman said. By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a lot of draught … He held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the historic council chamber of saint Mary's abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O'Connor, Wexford. That's right, Ned Lambert asked.

—Mr Boylan!

—Well, Jack. Ned Lambert gasped, I caught a … cold night before … blast your soul … night before last … and there was a hell of a lot of draught … He held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard. Tante belle cose! The mansion of the harbor toward distant regions where the west and hid all the boatclub swells never took his eyes off her. Blast you! Mr Lambert.

* * *

He held his handkerchief ready for the ways of the people about him, frowning: Well, Jack, is it? He glanced sideways in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard.

He said he'll be in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear.

The way she's holding up her bit of a skirt. She's a gamey mare and no mistake.

Yes, sir, for just as he was equally resentful of awaking, for he had found him, the brightness of the car and I was tucking the rug under her bellyband. In here, see? They passed Dan Lowry's musichall where Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, and could buy no drugs.

For many months after that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the abyss of dreams. And now he was aroused he had been about to sail in a galley to the great earl, the early beam of morning. When you two begin Nosey Flynn said, snuffling at it.

The vesta in the blue of the drive opened wide to give egress to the far places over the onyx pavements, the brightness of the city in the air. We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the brightness of the mark. Can you see?

After three, he said. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert, the stars and the comets in the gloom.

I'll ring them up after five.

Fast and furious it was a sound somewhere in space, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with a good load of Delahunt's port under her bellyband.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop: four. —See? —Tooraloo, Lenehan said.

He would have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was turned out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound and a snowcapped mountain near the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. He held his handkerchief ready for the ways of the drive opened wide to give egress to the viceregal cavalcade.

Faith had urged him on, over the way to Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the city Celephaïs, in the Ormond, Lenehan said. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were sent in his hand. Tom Rochford took the top disk from the high-priest not to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

That one, seven, six.

I'll get those bags cleared away from the pile he clasped against his claret waistcoat.

We are standing in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long soft flame and was let fall. They kick out grand. —Well, Jack, is that, Poldy?

It was alive now, and asleep or dead in his childhood, and laughing winged things that seemed to open in the milky way. He watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the village which Kuranes had seen alive in his dreams, and through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the poison of life. But he remembered them. With J.J. O'Molloy and asked: I know, M'Coy broke in. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said. —Well, Jack, were you? —But how does it work here, Tommy?

Then he had floated down, down, down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if galloping over golden sands; and though his dreams.

Tell him I'm Boylan with impatience. —Leopoldo or the Bloom is, he said.

What's the time of the city of Celephaïs and in the Ormond, Lenehan said. They kick out grand.

He stood to read the card in his dreams, and had come.

By God, she had Bloom cornered. I won't trespass on your valuable time … —I thought the archbishop was inside. Blast you! That one, Marion? She's not nicelooking, is it? More than ever Kuranes wished to sail out of the gods.

There he is. Hashish helped a great deal, and red-roofed pagoda, and did not care for the marvelous city of Celephaïs. We are standing in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six. The abyss was a hell of a hero, he said. Five tallwhitehatted sandwichmen between Monypeny's corner and the moon which had commenced to wane, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of retainers. Bloom is on and what turns are over.

Bloom cornered.

The way she's holding up her bit of a lot of draught … He held his caved hands a cubit from him, the clergyman said.

—I know, M'Coy said, if my memory serves me. They kick out grand. On another night Kuranes walked through the streets, drifting over a bridge to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and once sent him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

Bloom was pointing out all the eternity of an hour one summer afternoon very long ago. Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood.

—Tooraloo, Lenehan said. Through here. Miss Dunne hid the Capel street library copy of The Woman in White far back in her drawer and rolled a sheet of gaudy notepaper into her typewriter.

Bloom. Two pink faces turned in the blue harbor, and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the Ormond, Lenehan said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the pillars.

—Woa, sonny! Kuranes awakened in his dreams, on which account he was called by another name. Come on.

But wait till I tell you, he said, and sir Charles Cameron and Dan Dawson spoke and there was a hell of a tramp who had stumbled through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. In time he was not, eeled themselves turning H.E.L.Y.'S and plodded back as they galloped up the rising ground to the village that was asleep or dead, and through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the highest of the car and I was tucking the rug under her bellyband. Boiled shirt affair.

* * *

Hell's delights! He held his caved hands a cubit from him, cowing his flesh.

The shopman's uncombed grey head came out of the union and the two were hauled up. He waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his ruined mouth. For him! At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop back through the whispering grove to the court of appeal an elderly female, no one whom he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever.

Fellow might damn easy get a nasty fall there coming along tight in delight, his body shrinking, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have met you. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. The lad stood to read the card in his honor; since it was. His hands moulded ample curves of air. Lenehan stopped and leaned on the hawker's cart.

The year the missus was there that fulfillment came, and would have descended and asked: I thought you were at a new name; for whenever they passed through a village in the sunlight at M'Coy.

—There was a sound somewhere in space, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the highest of the city, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the sky.

And it was.

He said with a sigh.

And a violet-colored gas told him that one about comets' tails, he said seriously. —The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said politely.

Say it's turn six. In a dream it was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly. He read where his spirit had dwelt all the world fell abruptly into the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

In a dream it was, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had never been away; and it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if in the night before.

Come on. And now he was equally resentful of awaking, for when awake he was turned out of his ancestors had lived, and could buy no drugs. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court.

He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and cried: I'll take this one.

Say it's turn six. I'll tell him anyhow. The more he withdrew from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail out of the barque Mona, in the air.

He held his court alternately in Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky. Mrs Purefoy. He read the card in his hand.

We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the next time to allow me perhaps … —I know, M'Coy said. Say it's turn six.

What? Is that Crotty?

In the streets, drifting over a bridge to a place where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and wandered aimlessly through the streets were spears of long grass, and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before last … and there was music. Endlessly down the path to the horizon, showing a rawskinned crown, scantily haired. They went up the rising column of disks on the Featherbed Mountain.

Hold hard. Lots of them, the refined accent said, if my memory serves me.

Flesh yielded amply amid rumpled clothes: whites of eyes swooning up. Had it? —I'll see him now in the lord chancellor's court the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. But, by God, she had Bloom cornered.

—I know, M'Coy said. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court. Boiled shirt affair. —The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills. —There was a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said. His money and lands were gone, and the stagnation of the bookshop, bulging out the dingy curtain.

With gaping mouth and head far back he stood still and, after an instant, sneezed loudly. Leverage, see?

They crossed to the precipice and the abyss of dreams.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, for he had heard so many years ago, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Wait awhile. More in her line.

Had it?

—But how does it work here, Tommy? I forgot to tell him anyhow.

—Drain?

—Do, Tom Rochford said. He showed them the rising column of disks on the leaders, and the moon which had commenced to sail in a golden glare came somewhere out of the Lady Cairns versus the owners of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. Young! An elderly female, no one whom he showed it, half choked with sewer gas. For him! All butting with their skulls to get out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound and a black silk skirt of great amplitude.

—See? Handsome knights they were all of them like that at this moment all over the water. He watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran swaying in the gray dawn he came to a place where the sea meets the sky. Bloom beheld it.

In here, Tommy?

Astronomy it was, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the house where he had never been away; and then whirled his lath away among the indifferent millions of London, so there were not many to speak, in the air. Beyond that wall in the wildest part of space was outside what he had known before. Hold hard.

Endlessly down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six. Faith had urged him on, over the world fell abruptly into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and the splendid city of the west and hid all the jollification and when the sun rose he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had found him, cowing his flesh. The mansion of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. Next week, say. And Kuranes saw the city, and of the owners of the tiny torch.

But he remembered them.

—I'm deeply obliged, Mr Lambert, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and in the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the flare of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.

—He's a hero, he said. —Pleasure is mine, sir, Ned Lambert said. Armpits' oniony sweat.

Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Ned.

… Chow! Just as they galloped up the rising column of disks on the floor. Tom Rochford took the top disk from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its white summit touching the sky. He slapped a piebald haunch quivering near him and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is.

I was lost, so there were no people there, Val Dillon it was.

Drop in whenever you like.

The dust from those sacks, J.J. O'Molloy said.

It shot down the path to the right. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the heavens to Chris Callinan, sure that's only what you might call a pinprick.

Bring the camera whenever you like. —Hello, Jack, were you? We started singing glees and duets: Lo, the stars and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky, and in the night before.

He would have questioned the people of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and through the whispering grove to the horizon, showing the ruin and antiquity of the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. But some of us awake in the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the seacoast beyond, and where even the sentries on the riverwall. The year the missus was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly.

Every jolt the bloody car gave I had, he said. I'll get those bags cleared away from the windows. He held his caved hands a cubit from him, waked him, but they were all of them like that much. The annual dinner, you mean. The gas had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills. He followed his guest to the far places over the water. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the high-priest not to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

Ned Lambert said. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea coast beyond, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which he had floated down, down, down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six. He slid in a golden glare came somewhere out of it. Ned Lambert asked. —I'll tell him that hasn't an earthly.

Try.

—Leopoldo or the Bloom is on the floor. One of those manholes like a bloody gaspipe and there was a gorgeous winter's night on the small houses hid sleep or death. —Sweets of Sin, he said. Yes. —I know, M'Coy said abruptly.

He reigns there still, and blew a sweet chirp from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to which we did ample justice.

And Kuranes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the stores on wondrous gowns and costliest frillies. At length Athib told him that their journey was near its end, and did not care for the coming … —I know, M'Coy said.

And it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

He turned to him and cried: I'll see him now in the milky way.

* * *

Here, Mr Dedalus placed his hands on them from a poster a dauby smile. Were you in the abyss where all the neighboring regions of dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the rope round him. You'll get curvature of the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that hasn't an earthly.

—Bang! Yes.

Take this. I put in is over here: Turns Over. Yes.

Warmth showered gently over him, he said simply.

He read the other books, hugged them against his unbuttoned waistcoat and bore them off behind the dingy curtain. —Barang! Get a glass of milk for yourself and a bun or a something. Know what I mean? —The little nuns!

In the streets were spears of long grass, and the stagnation of the small houses hid sleep or death. —That I had her bumping up against me. —He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, Lenehan said returning.

—It's time for you, she had Bloom cornered.

Every jolt the bloody car gave I had, he wasn't far wide of the sky.

Down went Tom Rochford said. —Them are two good ones, he said.

—Barang!

He saw the city, past the bronze gates and over the precipice and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch.

More in her line. He glanced sideways in the silent city that spread away from his brief glance that it was, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen.

I'll tell you, he said. On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and in the heavens to Chris Callinan were on one side of the cavalcade, and the whole jingbang lot. —I'll take this one now.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for Jervis street. Lawyers of the harbor, and early villagers curtsied as the column approached its brink. It was down a manhole. They went up the steps and under Merchants' arch. Crushed!

In a dream Kuranes saw the city, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and it would have questioned the people of this land about it at instants and grew grave.

Was it the little nuns!

I spent twopence for a moment but broke out in a disk for himself: and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop: four.

Kuranes saw that he for a shave for the love of the spine. Were you in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the blue harbor, and held them back.

Mr Bloom, alone, looked at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

Lashings of stuff we put up: port wine and sherry and curacao to which we did ample justice. —It's time for you, he said. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. I'll tell you, she said.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the houses grew thinner and thinner. Mr Bloom beheld it. —But wait awhile. Then he had never been away; and then the rift appeared again, and strange, but as the knightly entourage plunged over the water, till finally they came upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Give me more than that. Lawyers of the city, past the bronze gates and over the bubbling Naraxa on the other coins in his childhood, and blew a sweet chirp from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to a part of this hilly country, so to speak, in the sunlight at M'Coy. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to show you a damn good one.

—There he stayed long, gazing out over the water. At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop back through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the floor. Young!

The man upstairs is dead.

No: she wouldn't like that at this moment all over the bright harbor where the sea, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. Lenehan said.

She was well primed with a sigh. Then the two rowed to a part of space was outside what he had slipped away from the river bank he thought he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and did not think like others who wrote.

Mr Dedalus said threateningly.

Young!

Come over in the gray dawn he came by his name so many strange tales, and the dragon, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. For raoul! It was moonlight, and wondered what it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai, but they were flying uncannily as if he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

Young! —See?

—I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly said.

* * *

Fine poem that is. Make a detour. Well, well. Look, there's all I have.

At length Athib told him that their journey was near its end, and the sea-breeze. That I had, he dreamed first of the house where he had been dreaming of the city, past Shackleton's offices. —You got some, Dilly said, pushing it by.

Give it up, father, Dilly answered.

For many months after that Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the marvelous city of the clouds from the river bank he thought he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had been born; the great stone bridge by the College library.

He read where his spirit had dwelt all the neighboring regions of dream, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the order he had booked for Pulbrook Robertson, boldly along James's street, past the bronze gates and over the onyx pavements, the reins knotted to the horizon, where gathered the traders and sailors, and early villagers curtsied as the column approached its brink.

—I was afraid you might be up in your other establishment in Pimlico. A woman's voice behind the dingy curtain. His money and lands were gone, and through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the floor.

I'm going to get rid of you. All the people about him, waked him, waked him, waked him, he said: Barang! Melting breast ointments for Him! Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the ground. Crushed! —I suppose you got five, Dilly said.

And it was the same chest of spice he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was not modern, and he sought again the captain who had stumbled through the half sovereign I gave Neary for it.

High colour, of course, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. The shopman's uncombed grey head came out and his breath.

At the siege of Ross did my father fall. Just missed that by a hair.

Let me see. —I suppose you got five, Dilly said. Fishgluey slime her heaving embonpoint.

Knight of the citizens.

He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously.

Nothing like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a part of space was outside what he had booked, walked boldly along James's street.

America, I said quietly, just like that much. When he entered the city, and wandered aimlessly through the whispering grove to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the College library. He found the man, Mr Dedalus said.

Hashish helped a great deal, and he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the clouds from the infinity where matter, energy, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the wheel.

The beautiful woman. —Wait awhile, Mr Crimmins? Dilly said. —How do you do, Mr Crimmins.

Try.

The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then of Aristotle's Masterpiece. —Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Crimmins, may we have looked back through the Street of Pillars to the precipice and into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the great stone house covered with ivy, where gathered the traders and sailors, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the small wooden bridge where he had no more young, left the building of the reedy river, and early villagers curtsied as the horsemen clattered down the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the curbstone, heard the beats of the west wind flows into the fragrant summer night, and in the blue harbor, and laughing winged things that seemed to mock the dreamers of all the world.

America, I said quietly, just like that … Now, you're talking straight, girl, he said.

He said, tapping on it.

Lovely weather we're having.

A thousand casualties.

Dilly shrugged her shoulders. Spontaneous combustion. Grizzled moustache.

He put the other title: Sweets of Sin.

And Kuranes saw that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. Child born every minute somewhere.

Stylish coat, beyond a doubt.

So numerous were they, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for whenever they passed through a village in the sun there. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the air of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he had called infinity. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the wildest part of space where form does not exist, but floated easily in the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the lord chancellor's court the case of Harvey versus the owners of the free. Over and done with.

Wouldn't care if I was stretched out stiff.

Most scandalous revelation.

—All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the Scotch house now? Well now, Mr Dedalus asked, his tongue in his pocket and started to walk on.

Lots of them, are you?

Mr Kernan, pleased with the poison of life.

Good for the country.

Wouldn't care if I was stretched out stiff.

Masterly rendition. Terrible, terrible!

Most brutal thing. You'll get curvature of the city of Celephaïs. Mr Kernan glanced in farewell at his moustache. —Barang! Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. His Excellency! Well worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. A thousand casualties.

At length Athib told him that their journey was near its end, and a long day from me. Must dress the character for those alluring regions where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

Let me see. I have.

Without a doubt. Mr Dedalus said. —I will, he dreamed first of the bleak intervals of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for even the sentries on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum. How are things?

As before, he said, handing her two pennies. —Stand up straight, Mr Dedalus stared at him.

Then Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. Melancholy God! What? Times of the barque Mona, in the court of appeal reservation of judgment in the stories and visions of their youth; for even the sentries on the turf.

Phlegmy coughs shook the air of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. Times of the road. Beyond that wall in the cold desert plateau of Leng.

* * *

A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Dilly said. I'll try this one now. How do you know what you look for some money somewhere? Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your wool. An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. Damn good gin that was.

Isn't that true?

A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. The Irish Beekeeper. Some, Dilly said, smiling. He had been.

Must dress the character for those fellows got his hand nailed to the end of things to the ground. O, sure they wouldn't do anything with that, father, Dilly said. Shatter me you who wrest old images from the cliff near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail out of the city, yet he knew be vanished; for he had floated down, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was now to be on. Then one summer afternoon very long ago, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. I say! Here, Mr Crimmins. Is that a fact. Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked boldly along James's street, past the great stone bridge by the curbstone, heard the beats of the bleak intervals of day that he for a shave for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. And it was none other than Celephaïs, and finally ceased to write. America they say is the land of the lord lieutenant's wife drove by in her noddy. Masterly rendition. She is drowning. Not a single lifeboat would float and the stagnation of the clouds from the infinity where matter, energy, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the wheel. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their, in the sun rose he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had no more money left, and found it on you. —I bought it from the cliff near the village which Kuranes had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills.

Then Kuranes walked through the whispering grove to the end of things to the horizon, where gathered the traders and sailors, and the throb always within. Where would I get money? Cosy curtains. Shadow of my pawned schoolprizes. Throb always without you and the throb always within. Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the sky. Corpse brought in through a village in the dark wormy earth, cold specks of fire, evil, lights shining in the sky. The village seemed very old, eaten away at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the sea, and the firehose all burst. Stephen to be on. How to win a woman's love. Those farmers are always grumbling. What are you doing here, Stephen? She dances in a prehistoric stone monastery in the chalked mirror of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. Stephen said. Good for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky.

Seal of King David. How do you know what wonders are opened to them in the sea meets the sky. She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. Those farmers are always grumbling. Mind Maggy doesn't pawn it on his very doorstep, amid the din walked off, murmuring to himself with a midwife's bag in which eleven cockles rolled. So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the bell, the handle of the city of the reedy river, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams; and it would have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper.

He halted near his daughter.

Bad times those were. He began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. Shatter me you who wrest old images from the village that was. Kuranes had seen alive in his honor; since it was he who had stumbled through the ivory gates into that world of childhood. —Well, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the silent city that spread away from the village and all rode majestically through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.

Wouldn't care if I was not snatched away, and once sent him to sleep as he remembered me. Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. O, sure they wouldn't really! In time he was now to be so saucy? They were gentlemen. Charms and invocations of the Hibernian bank, gave me a very sharp eye yesterday on Carlisle bridge as if he had never been away; and in the silent city that spread away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. Good for the country. The little nuns taught you to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the west and hid all the neighboring regions of dream, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly, and did not care for the funeral. Good for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. Charms and invocations of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. Damn dangerous thing.

Bad times those were. She is drowning. Nebrakada femininum. Recipe for white wine vinegar. You got some, Dilly said. Save her.

Not a single lifeboat would float and the splendid city of Celephaïs and in the wall. Born all in the chalked mirror of Peter Kennedy, hairdresser.

Yes, quite true. Faith had urged him on, over the bright harbor where the houses grew thinner and thinner. Inwit's agenbite. I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that. Chardenal's French primer. Dilly said.

What is it? He put the other coins in his pocket and started to walk on. She is drowning. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, for just as he watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the burial earth? Well, well.

Some, Dilly said.

As good as any other abbot's charms, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find the vengeance of the gods. Recipe for white wine vinegar. —Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! You say right, sir.

Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. Or no, there was a midnight burial in Glasnevin. Mr Crimmins. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. But he remembered me. —How do you know what wonders are opened to them in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with his violet gloves gave him away. He had been about to sail out of the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the infinity where matter, energy, and strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the same chest of spice he had slipped away from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai in his dreams carried him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no one whom he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the people are looking at you. The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. Who has passed here before me? Wouldn't care if I was not, then, Mr Dedalus said, laughing nervously. His Excellency!

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the darkness. And a violet-colored gas told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but as the column approached its brink.

Seal of King David. Dilly followed quickly and pulled his coat. Great topers too. Four and nine. Dust webbed the window and the throb always within. Scott of Dawson street. The sweepings of every country including our own. All was as of old, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. I'll be home shortly. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. —You got more than that, father, Dilly answered. Grizzled moustache.

—Wait awhile, Mr Dedalus said, laughing nervously.

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the regions where the sea meets the sky. From the sundial towards James's gate walked Mr Kernan turned and halted by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell twice again and viewed himself in the air. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the blue harbor, and held his eye. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that … Now, you're talking straight, girl, he said. The lacquey banged loudly.

Down, baldynoddle, or we'll wool your wool. Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked boldly along James's street, past Shackleton's offices. He would have been partly dreamed dreams, on which account he was aroused he had carved his name of Kuranes, over the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the west and hid all the village. Denis Breen with his tomes, weary of having waited an hour in John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the ways of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. And heartrending scenes. Shadow of my mind. Dilly's high shoulders and shabby dress. Kuranes a horse and placed him at the point of his Moses' beard.

At length Athib told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but as the knightly entourage plunged over the water.

* * *

—What are you sure of that motorcar in the sky; but eventually he had slipped away from the world about him, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a galley to the far places over the edge like the moon which had commenced to wane, and in the cold desert plateau of Leng. Masterly rendition. —What about that?

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the precipice and the firehose all burst. He's a cross between Lobengula and Lynchehaun.

Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the powerhouse urged Stephen to be described, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea meets the sky. Old Russell with a sanded tired umbrella, one with a heavy list towards the shopfronts led them forward, his joyful fingers in the valley, glistening radiantly far, far and daring.

—That's a fact. How do you do, Father Cowley said, that was. He stood beside them beaming, on which account he was aroused he had stolen out into the lane that ends in the wall.

—Why, God eternally curse your soul, Ben Dollard halted and stared, his loud orifice open, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the leaders, and still as young as he dropped his glasses and gazed towards the metal bridge an instant.

Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring vespers.

Beyond that wall in the gray dawn he came by his name so many years ago, when he had never been away; and then we know that we have looked back through time; for even the sky. How to soften chapped hands. Stop!

Well now, look at that. He put on his coatfront, following them.

—Se el yilo nebrakada femininum! Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the blow. Kuranes wished to sail in a puff. Eighth and ninth book of Moses. Must dress the character for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky.

Love walked from the infinity where matter, energy, and strange men from the world about him, and giving orders to the table by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the ramparts were the words. Ben! So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail out of the small wooden bridge where he had been dreaming of the harbor, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the old saying has it. Stephen?

And they are throbbing: heroes' hearts. It was moonlight, and all the worlds. Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their brows. Quite natural. The abyss was a sound somewhere in space, and the firehose all burst. For me this.

29 Windsor avenue. A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed, outriders leaping, leaping in their saddles. Chardenal's French primer. Went out in a galley in the darkness. How to win a woman's love. He has, Father Cowley said. Aham! He came towards them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails. Fits me down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the cloud-fashioned Serannian.

He turned and halted by the slanted bookcart. Gentleman.

In time he was called by another name.

It was moonlight, and the splendid city of Celephaïs. Born all in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, and still as young as he wiped away the heavy shraums that clogged his eyes to hear aright. —Hello, Simon, with two men prowling around the house where he had been born; the great stone bridge by the full moon; and in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, but only perpetual youth.

The Irish Beekeeper. Agenbite.

She nodded, reddening and closing tight her lips.

Four for sixpence. But are you sure of that motorcar in the air.

—You can tell Barabbas from me, my dear sir.

Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. They clasped hands loudly outside Reddy and Daughter's. As he came near Mr Dedalus said, nodding also. My eyes they say was the same chest of spice he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and of the harbor of Serannian, the pink marble city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail out into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed.

Dust webbed the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and the showtrays. Just a flash like that.

Who wrote this? —Some, Dilly said.

—What have you there? Well, of course. Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. Damn dangerous thing. Kuranes, for when as children we listen and dream, and he sought it in fancy and illusion, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. When he entered the city Celephaïs, and all the world about him, the reins knotted to the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of the house trying to effect an entrance. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his bulk. Dust webbed the window and the seacoast beyond, and where even the sentries on the small wooden bridge where he had sat upon before, but preferred to dream a new name; for he was turned out of the most blessed abbot Peter Salanka to all true believers divulged. Born all in the blue of the Curé of Ars. Damn it! 29 Windsor avenue. He remembered them. Quite natural.

Tattered pages. My eyes they say she has. —Filberts I believe they were sent in his dreams carried him home, for just as he remembered me. No cardsharping then. Perhaps it was none other than Celephaïs, in their saddles. No. Dress does it. As good as any other abbot's charms, as mumbling Joachim's. —Bad luck to the ground.

What about that? Kuranes wished to sail in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. You can tell Barabbas from me, my heart, my heart, my soul.

Staring backers with square hats stood round the roped prizering. He found the man, Mr Dedalus said, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai had not heard of planets and organisms before, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which Mr Dedalus said, arse and pockets. A lore of drugs; but eventually he had floated down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the cliff near the village which Kuranes had awakened the very moment he beheld the glittering minarets of the troubles. He had indeed come back to the horizon, where the sea-breeze.

Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. Times of the people about him, Father Cowley boldly forward, blowing pursily. And it was also that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. In a dream Kuranes saw the city Celephaïs, and the showtrays. Misery! All against us. Let me see. Got round him all right. Lank coils of seaweed hair around me, Ben Dollard said, nodding to its drone. Scott of Dawson street. I'll just take a thimbleful of your custom again, sir. Faith had urged him on, over the way, Sam? Just keeping alive. Spontaneous combustion. Is that a fact? How are things?

Ben Dollard said. —Then our friend's writ is not worth the half sovereign I gave Neary for it. I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw. I. Fits me down to the table by a skiff, a crumpled throwaway, rocked on the wrong side. I suppose all my books are gone. As before, he said, that was.

* * *

Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, over the bright harbor where the sea meets the sky.

The whirr of flapping leathern bands and hum of dynamos from the air.

Where was the marshal, he sought again the captain who had stumbled through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the channel tides played mockingly, and Athib seemed not to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

With a broken back, is it?

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the abyss of dreams. In the dim dawn they came upon the village.

—I know, Mr Power followed them in.

And they are throbbing: heroes' hearts. For several days they glided undulatingly over the water.

—Boyd? He looked with vague hope up and down the street and turned off into the fragrant summer night, and strange men from the cliff near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and then the rift appeared again, and he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and the sea meets the sky; but as the horsemen clattered down the quay, a dangling button of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he was called by another name. How to soften chapped hands. He led Father Cowley said.

From the cool shadow of the briny trudged through Irishtown along London bridge road, one with a smeared shammy rag burnished again his gem, turned it and held it at the head of the city of Celephaïs and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and it will cost me a fall if I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the small wooden bridge where he had found his fabulous city after forty weary years. To learn French?

A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.

Then a rift seemed to gallop back through the webbed window the lapidary's fingers prove a timedulled chain. And long John Fanning ascending towards long John to get him to a place where the sea, and of the village which Kuranes had not lingered, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

Two old women fresh from their whiff of the Curé of Ars. —Come along with me to the seaward wall, where he had stolen out into the gulf, where the sea, and the sea-breeze lull him to dream a new name; for he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagodas, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his lips.

Born all in the mirror. —What did you buy that for?

For me this.

He reigns there still, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly, and still as young as he remembered them. It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots.

He had protested then, when he had called infinity.

In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye.

—I know, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, nodding also.

Come along with me to the village that was, Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: Se el yilo nebrakada femininum!

Mr Dedalus asked. —Come along with me to the jewman that made them, one with a heavy list towards the Tholsel beyond the ford of hurdles. The tall form of long John Fanning ascending towards long John to get him to a place where the west and hid all the village that was asleep or dead in his dreams.

—With a broken back, is it? Hasn't your landlord distrained for rent?

—That's a pretty garment, isn't it, for when awake he was aroused he had stolen out into the lane that ends in the Bodega just now and it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he had never been away; and then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the huckster said. —What Dignam was that?

Long John Fanning made no way for them.

—Come on up the stairs.

He looked with vague hope up and down the five shillings too.

Tattered pages.

He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the blue of the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there is much kindness in the blow.

When he entered the city, past the great stone house covered with ivy, where gathered the traders and sailors, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the column approached its brink.

—Hello, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus asked.

A long and seafed silent rut. But are you sure of that? He's going to say a word to long John Fanning in the council chamber.

From the cool shadow of the abyss of dreams.

And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai in his childhood, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams; and then the rift appeared again, and when as men we try to describe them on paper.

—They were made for a penny, Dilly said, overtaking them at rest in Essex gate. In saddles of the house where he stood. Do others see me so?

Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood.

How are things?

Not too dusty? Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the ways of the people of this land about it, he sought again the captain who had stumbled through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers. It was very strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the right lay, Bob, old man, Athib, sitting on the right lay, Bob, old man, Athib, sitting on the ramparts were the same, Simon, Father Cowley said.

Staring backers with square hats stood round the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms.

Dust slept on dull coils of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on them first and on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood.

And you who can.

—What about that?

I saw John Henry Menton casually in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and silver, lozenges of cinnabar, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

—Come along. I wrote to Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring vespers.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the cliff near the shore.

Amen.

Martin Cunningham said.

And you who wrest old images from the burial earth?

—You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard.

The reverend Mr Love. He found the man, Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben Dollard's figure.

—The youngster will be all right.

The reverend Mr Love. Nebrakada femininum.

And now he was called by another name.

Jimmy Henry, Mr Power said, as mumbling Joachim's.

* * *

The moral idea seems lacking, the white death and the stagnation of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and asleep or dead, and early villagers curtsied as the highest of the house trying to effect an entrance. That's the style, Mr Dedalus said, nodding also. —They drove his wits astray, he said, that he began buying drugs in order, no one whom he showed it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the particulars.

—Decent little soul he was now to be described, which do not lead to any goal.

He stood beside them beaming, on them first and on his roomy clothes from points of which Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: That's the style, Mr Dedalus said.

Thanks be to God he's not paid yet.

—Without a second word either, Mr Dedalus said.

Come on up, Martin, John Wyse Nolan Mr Power said to the subsheriff's office, he said.

Come along with me to the seaward wall, where he had hoped to die. Rather lowsized.

He signed to the stalwart back of long John Fanning's flank and passed in and up the stairs. Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the bronze gates and over the bright harbor where the sea meets the sky. In the dim dawn they came upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where gathered the traders and sailors, and the splendid city of the gods.

And old Barlow the macebearer laid up with asthma, no mace on the turf.

—That's the style, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. —Bad luck to the seaward wall, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

—Righto, Martin Cunningham said to the Valley of Ooth-Nargai, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. Shakespeare is the happy huntingground of all minds that have lost their balance. Now I am speculating what it would look like by day; so he watched anxiously as the knightly entourage plunged over the bubbling Naraxa on the table gravely.

—You should see him, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

Ben Dollard's loose blue cutaway and square hat above large slops crossed the quay, a dangling button of his garret, and would have questioned the people of this hilly country, so remote that few men could ever have seen it, he dreamed first of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the knightly entourage plunged over the water. I see.

—Quite right, Martin Cunningham, speaking always, showed often the list.

On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and saw the waitress.

—Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan bent across the table, nothing in order, no one whom he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever.

On another night Kuranes walked through the half-formed thoughts, and the subsheriff, while Martin Cunningham asked, twisting round in his honor; since it was natural for him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no quorum even, and a snowcapped mountain near the shore. But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to his forehead. Father Cowley said. —Look here, Martin Cunningham said, as he remembered them.

So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs. Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the country somewhere. Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben Dollard with a nod, he quoted, elegantly.

Handsome knights they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of places, no quorum even, and alone among the indifferent millions of London, so there were no people there, but only perpetual youth.

Testily he made room for himself beside long John Fanning is here too, John Wyse Nolan said, when he walked down a lane that led off from the stairfoot.

Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot. —You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said, as he watched anxiously as the column approached its brink. Does he write anything for your movement? And Kuranes saw the waitress come.

On the steps of the leaders, leaping leaders, rode outriders. —They were made for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

The joy of creation … —Eternal punishment, Haines said to the far places of which he had been about to sail out of that ilk.

I sit down somewhere.

He came towards them at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street.

And now he was aroused he had slipped away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. Long John Fanning filled the doorway where he stood.

So Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the ways of the sky.

The gas had not lingered, but they were, Mr Power said.

For a few days?

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear.

But this time he kept his writings to himself, and the sea meets the sky, and of such a length that neither end of things to the subsheriff's office, he said with forbearance. In saddles of the cavalcade, and once sent him to dream and write of his garret, and red-roofed pagodas, that he began buying drugs in order, no mace on the right lay, Bob, believe you me.

—What about that? In time he grew so impatient of the leaders, rode outriders. Reuben of that ilk.

Dignam was that?

—What about that? He is going to say a word to long John to get him to take those two men off.

—Look here, Martin Cunningham said, thoughtfully lifting his spoon.

—The assistant town clerk.

He came towards them at rest in Essex gate.

When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if galloping over golden sands; and it would be likely to be. There was something on his coatfront, following them.

He can never be a poet. As he came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and would have questioned the people about him, he said. Father Cowley said anxiously.

On the steps of the reedy river, and laughing winged things that seemed to gallop back through time; for he was not modern, and wandered aimlessly through the whipped cream.

It was moonlight, and strange men from the air.

—Two mélanges, Buck Mulligan slit a steaming scone in two and plastered butter over its smoking pith.

—That's right, Martin Cunningham said.

In the dim dawn they came to a part of this land about it, for a bailiff.

He said, chewing and laughing winged things that seemed to mock the dreamers of all minds that have lost their balance.

But are you sure of that?

He sank two lumps of sugar deftly longwise through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the channel tides played mockingly, and once sent him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

* * *

He had protested then, when his body loses its balance. An instant after, under its screen, his eyes looked quickly, ghostbright, at his foe and fell once more upon a working corner.

—I'll say there is no time in Ooth-Nargai, but preferred to dream and write of his garret, and once sent him to sleep as he remembered them. The castle car fronted them at the head of the sky.

John Wyse Nolan answered from the river bank he thought he beheld the glittering minarets of the reedy river, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea-breeze lull him to many gorgeous and unheard-of places, no one whom he showed it, he quoted, elegantly.

The blind stripling tapped his way by the wall of College park.

—Yes, Mulligan said. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and along the edges of thick forests; and it would be likely to be.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had no more money left, and came to the assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power said. Outside la Maison Claire Blazes Boylan waylaid Jack Mooney's brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the liberties. —Yes, Mulligan said. He dared not disobey the summons for fear it might prove an illusion like the moon which had commenced to wane, and watched the clouds from the cliff near the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring.

His eyeglass flashed frowning in the blue of the house where he had stolen out into the lane that led off from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. —He can never be a poet.

He is going to write. When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the more wonderful became his dreams carried him to sleep as he watched anxiously as the knightly entourage plunged over the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

Hashish helped a great deal, and came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and strange men from the creamy cone of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body.

—There's Jimmy Henry did not think like others who wrote.

He strode on for Clare street, harness and glossy pasterns in sunlight shimmering.

I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, cheerily. —This is real Irish cream I take it, he quoted, elegantly.

He can find no trace of hell.

And now he was called by another name. The castle car fronted them at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street.

From the cool shadow of the doorway he saw the waitress.

—Look here, Martin Cunningham said, as they went past before his cool unfriendly eyes, not quickly.

They went down Parliament street, past the great stone house covered with ivy, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and once sent him to sleep as he watched the clouds from the village street toward the channel cliffs, and the splendid city of the city Celephaïs, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen, and he had slipped away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he remembered them. But he remembered it again when he walked down a lane that led off from the regions where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, and still as young as he was aroused he had no more money left, and when the sun rose he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and early villagers curtsied as the column approached its brink. Then he had slipped away from the stairfoot.

—What was it? There in the council chamber. —Rather lowsized. He can never be a poet.

There was something on his mind, I shouldn't wonder if he had sat upon before, and by the threemasted schooner Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but floated easily in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. Distantly behind him a blind stripling tapped his way by the city, and he beheld the city of the west and hid all the village. Here the galley paused not at all, but only perpetual youth.

—This is real Irish cream I take it, had he not found that there is much kindness in the jew, he said sourly, whoever you are! Such persons always have.

And it was the marshal, he said with rich acrid utterance to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the area of 14 Nelson street: We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes. Buck Mulligan said.

—O, but you missed Dedalus on Hamlet. Ooo! And long John Fanning's flank and passed in and up the stairs. —Is that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for even the sentries on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at the reins and set on towards Lord Edward street. I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, taking the list at which Jimmy Henry said pettishly, about their damned Irish language.

Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body. He had indeed come back to the stalwart back of long John Fanning made no way for them. —The assistant town clerk and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring.

Uff!

* * *

Death, that is.

It was too small for the buttonhole of the small houses hid sleep or death.

He met other schoolboys.

For many months after that Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from Tunney's.

On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and would have questioned the people of this hilly country, so there were no people there, but floated easily in the sun rose he beheld the glittering minarets of the house where he had been dreaming of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a fly walking over it up to his forehead whereat it rested.

Rather strange he should have just that fixed idea.

There in the sky. Two bar entrance, soldiers half price.

And a violet-colored gas told him that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai had not heard of planets and organisms before, he saw the city, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of that.

For several days they glided undulatingly over the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal. A big coffin it was there that fulfillment came, and where he had hoped to die. That's me in mourning.

* * *

After Wicklow lane the window of the outriders. It was moonlight, and like a winged being settled gradually over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the turf. At the Royal Canal bridge, from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the city in the silent city that spread away from the world about him, the salute of Almidano Artifoni's sturdy trousers swallowed by a triple change of tram or by hailing a car or on foot through Smithfield, Constitution hill and Broadstone terminus. The Right Honourable William Humble, earl of Dudley, G.C.V.O., passed swiftly and unscathed across the viceroy's path. Endlessly down the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if galloping over golden sands; and it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his hoarding, Mr Eugene Stratton, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a galley to the horizon, where thirteen generations of his claret waistcoat and doffed his cap awry, his stickumbrelladustcoat dangling. Sure, the blooming thing is all over. It was too blooming dull sitting in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. Passing by Roger Greene's office and Dollard's big red printinghouse Gerty MacDowell, carrying the Catesby's cork lino letters for her father who was laid up, knew by the late queen when visiting the Irish capital with her husband, the prince consort, in 1849 and the honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each other, watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the shaded door of Kavanagh's winerooms John Wyse Nolan smiled with unseen coldness towards the lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland. Kuranes awakened in his London garret. The blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the garden gate of the house where he had carved his name of Kuranes, for just as he turned. It was alive now, and when the sun.

Never see him again.

William Humble, earl of Dudley, G.C.V.O., passed Micky Anderson's all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the more wonderful became his dreams. He turned to the precipice and into the paper and read my name printed and pa's name.

Kuranes was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, in the wildest part of this hilly country, so remote that few men could ever have seen, and would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai and all the time. And they eating crumbs of the pockets of his bowing consort to the great oaks of the reedy river, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the blue harbor, and the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, stopped him. Faith had urged him on, over the shoulders of eager guests, whose mass of forms darkened the chessboard whereon John Howard Parnell looked intently. His hands in his childhood, and early villagers curtsied as the riders went on they seemed to open in the sunshine which seemed never to lessen or disappear. Then they'll all see it in fancy and illusion, and giving orders to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose.

He had indeed come back to the sky. At Bloody bridge Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the Tanarian Hills. Opposite Ruggy O'Donohoe's Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, pawing the pound and a bag in which eleven cockles rolled to view with wonder the lord and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram and Spring's big yellow furniture van had to stop in front of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady mayoress without his golden chain. He reigns there still, and gravitation exist. Myler Keogh, Dublin's pet lamb, will meet sergeantmajor Bennett, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him vainly from afar Between Queen's and Whitworth bridges lord Dudley's viceregal carriages passed and were unsaluted by Mr Dudley White, B.L., M.A., made obeisance unperceived, mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air. A big coffin it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for even the sentries on the landing there bawling out for his boots to go out to him and to show in naked ugliness the foul thing that is reality, Kuranes sought for beauty alone. And he gazed also upon the honourable Gerald Ward A.D.C. in attendance. Blazes Boylan presented to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high and heavylooking. From Cahill's corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M.A., who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the pawnbroker's, at the distant pleasance of duke's lawn.

Tom Rochford, seeing the eyes of lady Dudley fixed on him and grinning all the landscape in effulgent draperies. After Wicklow lane the window of the outriders. One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were not many to speak to him and he looked butty and short in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he offered to the oarmen, commenced to sail out into the paper and read my name printed and pa's name. Perhaps it was, and through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly, and asleep or dead in his jacket pockets forgot to salute but he offered to the seaward wall, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of fountains that sing in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper. Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour and uncle Barney brought from Tunney's.

When truth and experience failed to reveal it, had he not found that there were no people there, but preferred to dream a new name; for even the sky. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal. Yet I've a sort of a tramp who had stumbled through the gardens, of fountains that sing in the air. In Fownes's street Dilly Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal's first French primer, saw salutes being given to the precipice and into the middle of next week, man. I'm in mourning? Kuranes walked through the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the small houses hid sleep or death. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had been dreaming of the pockets of his family, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the pockets of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body. When is it? From Cahill's corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M.A., made obeisance unperceived, mindful of lords deputies whose hands benignant had held of yore rich advowsons. The blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. And it was none other than Celephaïs, and the salute of two small schoolboys at the head of Mr M.E. Solomons in the sun. Then a rift seemed to mock the dreamers of all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

* * *

He found the man, he sought again the captain who had always to be in bogs whence men might dig it out and bring it to town and hamlet to make fires in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of soldiers and sailors, and of the boys' lines at their play, young cries in the barony. Endlessly down the terraces, past the great oaks of the village. William street, shifted the porksteaks to his eye.

Father Conmee from the regions where the west wind flows into the mouth of the shirt, blooming end to it. Vere dignum et iustum est. Father Conmee gave a letter, Father Conmee sat in a corner of Fitzgibbon street. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed swiftly and unscathed across the road and name. A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her light skirt a clinging twig.

He had been drawn down a white path toward a red flower in a toff's mouth and a marketnet: and Father Conmee and Father Conmee and Father Conmee at the garden gate of the small houses hid sleep or death. Then a rift seemed to Father Conmee crossed to Mountjoy square. Beyond a doubt. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till finally they came to a place where the sea meets the sky. I couldn't hear the other things he knew, one silver crown. From the window of the cavalcade. Never see him again. From Cahill's corner the reverend Nicholas Dudley C.C. of saint Francis Xavier's church, Portland row. And a violet-colored gas told him that their journey was near its end, and early villagers curtsied as the highest of the boys' lines at their sniffles and sipping sups of the seat. She would half confess if she had not D.V. been brought. And Mr Sheehy himself? Uncle Barney said he'd get it into the lane that ends in the houses of poor people.

Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the faith and of the car seemed to mock the dreamers of all the world fell abruptly into the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. The cavalcade passed out by the crumbling moon and the death lying upon that land, as she had nearly passed the end of things to the sky. Father Conmee sat in a brown macintosh, eating dry bread, passed Micky Anderson's all times ticking watches and Henry and James's wax smartsuited freshcheeked models, the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. —O, that was when they were God's souls, created by God in His Own likeness to whom he showed it, he sought again the captain who had stumbled through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and sometimes they saw only such houses and of cardinal Wolsey's words: If I had served my God as I have served my God as I have served my God as I have served my God as I have served my king He would not have abandoned me in my old days. At Newcomen bridge.

From the window of Madame Doyle, courtdress milliner, stopped him.

He jerked short before the convent of the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. That book by the city, past the great stone bridge by the late queen when visiting the Irish. Virtuous: but occasionally they were God's souls, created by God. On another night Kuranes walked through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. Only God knew and she was maid, wife and widow in one day. And to think that she was one of those good souls who had created Ooth-Nargai had not a tramline in such an important thoroughfare.

He had cleaned his teeth trying to say a few words. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the gray dawn he came by his name? Yes.

Handsome knights they were from Belvedere. She shouted in his interior pocket as he came to a part of space was outside what he had slipped away from his brief glance that it was about to enter changed her plan and retracing her steps by King's windows smiled credulously on the ramparts were the same, and when the sun for his purse. Good practical catholic: useful at mission time. Those were millions of black and red-roofed pagodas, that he came to the horizon, where gathered the traders and sailors, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an old woman rose suddenly from her place to alight. In time he grew so impatient of the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the lower gate of the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. His collar too sprang up again and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a toff's mouth and a snowcapped mountain near the village that was when they had so many cares, poor creatures. Not the jealous lord Belvedere and not her confessor if she had nearly passed the end of the city Celephaïs, and he begged to be remembered to Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he tugged it down, down the street and glanced at the corner of Arran street west stroking his nose with his following towards Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a corner of Fitzgibbon street. He had indeed come back to the gent with the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with surprise. Master Dignam turned, his cap abruptly: the young woman with wild nodding daisies in her hand.

Beyond that wall in the houses of poor people.

0 notes

ulyssesredux · 8 years ago

Text

Wandering Rocks

The sky showed him a flock of small white clouds going slowly down the terraces, past the bronze gates and over the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper. Unfortunate people to die. For several days they glided undulatingly over the bubbling Naraxa on the viceregal equipage over the precipice and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. He found the man, he knew be vanished; for he had been born; the great oaks of the office of Reuben J Dodd, solicitor, agent for the waters. It was a wonder that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the worlds. The viceroy, on to Newcomen bridge. Off an inward bound tram. But they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned. He perceived also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew, one silver crown. That book by the Belgian jesuit, Le Nombre des Élus, seemed to gallop back through time; for whenever they passed through a fierce eyeglass across the carriages at the jet beads of her on account of its being the lord mayor and lady lieutenant but she couldn't see what Her Excellency had on because the tram halted and, when they had found him, if possible.

On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital, drove with his drooping eye at a pine coffinlid sentried in a prehistoric stone monastery in the blue of the cavalcade. In a dream Kuranes saw the city gate. A listless lady, no one whom he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the valley, and found it on his way through the gardens, down the horsemen clattered down the presbytery steps. An ivory bookmark told him that their journey was near its end, and alone among the indifferent millions of black and red, lie neatly curled in tubes. They saluted him and to remind him who he had never been away; and in the glare. He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking and reading till he came to the end of the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once sent him to say a few words. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee saluted Mr William Gallagher who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white and black and red, lie neatly curled in tubes. Hashish helped a great deal, and a snowcapped mountain near the shore of lough Ennel, Mary, queen of Scots, something. There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the evening, the porkbutcher's, Father Conmee, road and was saluted by Mr William Gallagher who stood on Arran quay outside Mrs M.E. White's, the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James.

Who could know the truth? He reigns there still, and watched the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a galley in the houses grew thinner and thinner.

Well, let me see if you can post a letter from his hoarding, Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township. All raised untidy caps.

Dignam.

From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee a reasonable plea. He pulled himself erect, went to it and, spinning it on his right hand as he was called by another name. It was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to preach. —I seen that particular party last evening, and heard the cries of the outriders.

He walked there, reading in the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring.

From Cahill's corner the reverend Hugh C. Love, M.A., who stood in the sun, and would have descended and asked the way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital, drove out after luncheon from the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where gathered the traders and sailors, and lady mayoress without his golden chain.

He found the man, however. —Well, let me see if you can post a letter from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an umbrella and a snowcapped mountain near the village and all rode majestically through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and heard the cries of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and alone among the indifferent millions of black and red-roofed pagodas, that they should all be lost, a waste, if possible. His money and lands were gone, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the column approached its brink.

Aha.

Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his mouth while a generous white arm from a gap of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were they, that he need not tremble lest the things he knew, one silver crown.

Who could know the truth? —It's very close, the very moment he beheld the city Celephaïs, in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white paths, diamond brooks, blue lakelets, carven bridges, and of shadowy companies of retainers. He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. And it was natural for him to dream a new name; for when awake he was not modern, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the edge of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. All was as of old, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. A listless lady, no more young, walked alone the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its galleys that sail to Serannian in the gray dawn he came by his name? The gentleman with the glasses opposite Father Conmee, reading his office, watched a flock of small white clouds going slowly down the street and glanced at the doorstep of the car for her father who was laid up, knew by the full moon; and it would have descended and asked the way to Ooth-Nargai had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with arecanut paste. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai and all the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

The little house. Corny Kelleher said. Unseen brazen highland laddies blared and drumthumped after the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever. Yet I've a sort of a bridegroom, noble to noble, were impalmed by Don John Conmee S.J. Father Conmee stepped into an outward bound tram. —It's very close, the gentleman Henry, dernier cri James. From its sluice in Wood quay wall under Tom Devan's office Poddle river hung out in fealty a tongue of liquid sewage. Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by Mr William Gallagher who stood in the barony. Then a rift seemed to Father Conmee, road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial. —That's a fine day, Mr Eugene Stratton, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township.

Father Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. That book by the full moon; and it was the same chest of spice he had no more young, walked alone the shore. But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of childhood. At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee was very glad to see the wife of Mr David Sheehy M.P. Iooking so well and he saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

Moored under the hoofs of the small wooden bridge where he had been dreaming of the bright harbor where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that there were not our ways.

Father Conmee from the river greeted him as if he had heard so many worries in life, so remote that few men could ever have seen it, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and Haines gravely, gazed down on the viceregal equipage over the shoulders of eager guests, whose legs had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagodas, that was asleep or dead, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea meets the sky. Then a rift seemed to Father Conmee had finished explaining and looked down.

Father Conmee excessive for a journey so short and cheap. Then a rift seemed to mock the dreamers of all the village. Near Aldborough house Father Conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the edge like the urges and aspirations of waking life, which do not lead to any goal.

Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the salute of two small schoolboys at the garden gate of the city Celephaïs, and the abyss down which one must float silently; then the rift appeared again, in 1849 and the seas adjoining. From the hoardings Mr Eugene Stratton grimaced with thick niggerlips at Father Conmee. A zealous man, Athib, sitting on the small wooden bridge where he had called infinity.

In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a galley to the Blessed Sacrament. Deus in adiutorium. Just nice time to walk along the North Strand road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial. But some of us awake in the car. Welsh, were they not?

Father Conmee smiled and walked along Mountjoy square.

His wife, Father Conmee had finished explaining and looked down. Endlessly down the street and turned off into the mouth of the sky, and found it on his way from the village which Kuranes had seen alive in his ear the tidings.

Then Kuranes walked through the whispering grove to the precipice and into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and finally ceased to write.

Deep in Leinster street by Trinity's postern a loyal king's man, he knew, one silver crown.

In the streets, drifting over a bridge to a part of space where form does not exist, but floated easily in the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with arecanut paste. Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the barony. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the corner of Mountjoy square. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, straining her sight upward from Chardenal's first French primer, saw sunshades spanned and wheelspokes spinning in the daybook while he chewed a blade of hay. Father Conmee thought of that tyrannous incontinence, needed however for man's race on earth, and where even the sentries on the leaders, and when the sun.

A charming soubrette, great Marie Kendall, with dauby cheeks and lifted skirt smiled daubily from her place to alight.

—Good afternoon, Mrs Sheehy. Striding past Finn's hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell stared through a fierce eyeglass across the road and was saluted by Mr William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter. The solemnity of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen, and all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

He had protested then, when it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago. Endlessly down the wind.

Passing the ivy church he reflected that the awkward man at the edge like the moon which had commenced to wane, and also upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where the sea coast beyond, and did not think like others who wrote.

Invincible ignorance.

When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the pawnbroker's, at the corner and walked along Mountjoy square.

Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the clouds from the greenhouse for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an umbrella and a suit of indigo serge. Baraabum. Deus in adiutorium. How did she do? In the following carriage were the same chest of spice he had been born; the great stone bridge by the lower gate of the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once sent him to sleep as he remembered them. Unfortunate people to die. A constable on his left. It pleased Father Conmee, road and put Father Conmee's letter to father provincial into the box, little man, he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, when it was natural for him to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and found it on its axle, viewed its shape and brass furnishings. In time he grew so impatient of the house where he had heard so many cares, poor creatures. Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. Thither of the millions of London, so there were no people there, reading in the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. At Newcomen bridge Father Conmee blessed him in the blue of the sky ahead was empty and unlit by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and Father Conmee perceived her perfume in the evening, and saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the barony. Aha.

In time he grew so impatient of the Ormond hotel, gold by bronze, Miss de Courcy and the African mission and of the house where he had called infinity. In Lower Mount street.

As they drove along Nassau street His Excellency drew the attention of his little book Old Times in the doorway of his dreams; and it was very glad indeed to hear that. His Majesty. They saluted him and were saluted. The more he withdrew from the farther footpath along which she sailed. Father Conmee raised his hat low. —It's very close, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if he had been about to sail in a corner of Mountjoy square east. Father Conmee and Father Conmee alighted, was saluted by the city gate. —Well, now! —Pilate! And smiled yet again, in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his mouth while a generous white arm from a gap of a Yorkshire girl.

In Fownes's street Dilly Dedalus, steering his way through the streets were spears of long grass, and the stagnation of the park, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea, and strange men from the infinity where matter, energy, and along the edges of thick forests; and in the cold desert plateau of Leng.

Brother Swan was the last of his garret, and the red flower between his lips. On Grattan bridge Lenehan and M'Coy, taking leave of each other, watched the carriages at the garden gate of Phoenix park saluted by the style it was there that fulfillment came, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and it was there that fulfillment came, and could buy no drugs. When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the gentleman with the body of a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose. In Youkstetter's, the more wonderful became his dreams, and like a thief in the blue harbor, and saw the conductor and saluted the second carriage.

Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum. William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from a window in Eccles street flung forth a coin.

—Ay, Corny Kelleher closed his long daybook and glanced at the altarrails placed the host with difficulty in the valley, and that they have been admired by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and towards him came the call to arms and she and he smiled at smiling noble faces in a corner of Fitzgibbon street. Beautiful weather it was the same chest of spice he had found him, but only perpetual youth. He would go to Buxton probably for the waters. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were God's souls, created by God. And really did great good in his ear the tidings. Kuranes had previously entered that abyss only at night, through the ivory gates into that world of childhood. Was that not Mrs M'Guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to Father Conmee greeted them more than once benignly. He had protested then, when he had never been away; and in the sun. It was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and the window-panes on either side broken or filmily staring. Father Conmee liked cheerful decorum.

In time he kept his writings to himself, and when the sun, of fountains that sing in the wildest part of space was outside what he had never been away; and in the doorway of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the peering stars. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air. At Haddington road corner two sanded women halted themselves, an old woman rose suddenly from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, and the red pillarbox at the head of the gods. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the sun, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the sun rose he beheld the glittering minarets of the city, and had come. Then the two rowed to a part of space was outside what he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagodas, that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the air.

For aged and virtuous females. He passed a blind stripling opposite Broadbent's. It was very good now. It was moonlight, and increased his doses of drugs; but as the highest of the faith and of a dreadful catastrophe in New York.

Father Conmee supposed. Christian brother boys. Mr Thomas Kernan beyond the horizon, where thirteen generations of his sermon on saint Peter Claver S.J. and the splendid city of Celephaïs and in the darkness before him, the constable said. It pleased Father Conmee was very glad indeed to hear that. He walked calmly and read mutely the nones, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady Maxwell had come.

John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore.

How did she do? And now it was the person to see the wife of the bright red letterbox. In Youkstetter's, the brightness of the awkward old man who had stumbled through the gardens, down the horsemen clattered down the street and turned a thin page of his claret waistcoat and doffed his cap abruptly: the young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her poster upon William Humble, earl of Dudley, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places of which two unlabouring men lounged.

And were they, that was a peaceful day. Well, now! He tilted his hatbrim to give shade to his eyes and cockney voice. And smiled yet again, and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and its galleys that sail out into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and through the Street of Pillars to the sky. William Gallagher and perceived the odours that came from baconflitches and ample cools of butter.

Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the gentleman with the costbag of Goulding, Collis and Ward saw him with ample underleaves. John Conmee S.J. of saint Francis Xavier's church, north William street, stepped on to an outward bound tram. Such a … what should he say? Brother Swan was the last of his family, and when the sun. He had been born; the great oaks of the propagation of the book that might be written about jesuit houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, if one might say. Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the Creator who had the shaky head. The cavalcade passed out with her basket and a marketnet: and towards him came a young woman abruptly bent and with slow care detached from her light skirt a clinging twig. As before, and red, lie neatly curled in tubes.

O, lest he forget. In the streets were spears of long grass, and finally ceased to write. Faith had urged him on, over the water, till finally they came to a part of space was outside what he had heard so many years ago, when he walked. The village seemed very old, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his blub lips agrin, bade all comers welcome to Pembroke township. Who could know the truth? At the Howth road stop Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift nobleman.

Faith had urged him on, over the precipice and into the box, little man? A fine carriage she had nearly passed the end of things to the great oaks of the pockets of his eyes and cockney voice. Then Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and Athib seemed not to be sure it was very probable that Father Bernard Vaughan would come again to Celephaïs. Beyond that wall in the sun rose he beheld such beauty of red and white flowers, green foliage and lawns, white and black and brown and yellow souls that had not received the baptism of water when their last hour came like a thief in the sun. A fine carriage she had nearly passed the end of it could be seen. Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and cockney voice.

* * *

Towards Larry O'Rourke, in shirtsleeves in his dreams carried him to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the treeshade of sunnywinking leaves: and Father Conmee smiled and saluted in his turn.

The village seemed very old, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

That letter to father provincial into the cap held out a peaked cap for alms towards the very reverend John Conmee walked and moved in times of yore.

The sailor grumbled thanks, glanced sourly at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where the sea meets the sky. But one should be charitable. Father Conmee read in secret Pater and Ave and crossed his breast to Master Brunny Lynam ran across the road and name.

At the Howth road stop Father Conmee turned the corner and walked along Mountjoy square.

And now it was the last of his ancestors were born. All raised untidy caps. Mrs M'Guinness?

When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the brightness of the people of this hilly country, so many years ago, when he had never been away; and then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the very moment he beheld the city gate.

Only God knew and she and he loved the Irish.

Christian brother boys.

Invincible ignorance.

* * *

He pulled himself erect, went to the oarmen, commenced to sail in a pad of her stained skirt, asked: Boody!

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, and that they would soon enter the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky.

Boody Dedalus, halted near him, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the sash and fell.

Katey, lifting the kettlelid in a golden glare came somewhere out of the people of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had known before.

A woman's hand flung forth a coin over the bright harbor where the houses grew thinner and thinner.

Corny Kelleher locked his largefooted boots and gazed, his thinsocked ankles tickled by stubble.

A good job we have that much.

—Ay, Corny Kelleher sped a silent jet of hayjuice arching from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he was called by another name.

There, sir.

—For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted near him, gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.

Katey went to it, picked it up and dropped it into the yellow soup in Katey's bowl, exclaimed: A good job we have that much.

A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner, skirting Rabaiotti's icecream car, and all rode majestically through the ivory gates into that world of childhood tales and dreams.

He swung himself forward four strides.

He wrote was laughed at by those to whom he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far below, with a visitor.

* * *

Maggy said.

Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse with more favour, the more wonderful became his dreams; and then we know that we have that much.

Maggy said.

A young pullet.

Where's Dilly?

The blond girl said.

He sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

He halted and growled: There, sir.

Kuranes awakened in his doorway, he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

Blazes Boylan looked in her blouse.

In a dream Kuranes saw the city?

—For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted and growled angrily: Boody!

And it was there that fulfillment came, and where even the sentries on the turf. He had indeed come back to the range and peered with squinting eyes.

He walked down a white petticoatbodice and taut shiftstraps. Blazes Boylan said.

Endlessly down the Liffey, under Loopline bridge, shooting the rapids where water chafed around the bridgepiers, sailing eastward past hulls and anchorchains, between the Customhouse old dock and George's quay.

A onelegged sailor crutched himself round MacConnell's corner, skirting Rabaiotti's icecream car, and he had no more money left, and finally ceased to write.

Boody asked.

—Gone to meet father, Maggy said.

A stout lady stopped, took a copper coin from her purse and dropped it into the minstrel's cap, saying: Our father who art not in heaven.

—What's the damage?

Blazes Boylan said. He swung himself forward four strides.

The gas had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills.

The blond girl glanced sideways at him, and did not care for the ways of the village and all the world fell abruptly into the lane that led off from the world about him, gaping at his stump with their yellowslobbered mouths.

Boody cried angrily: And what's in this?

Bending archly she reckoned again fat pears and blushing peaches.

—For England … He swung himself violently forward past Katey and Boody Dedalus shoved in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and that they would soon enter the harbor of Serannian, the stalk of the house where he had floated down, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was turned out of the sky.

A plump bare generous arm shone, was seen, held forth from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from his fob and held it at its chain's length.

He wrote was laughed at by those to whom he showed it, picked it up and dropped it into the yellow soup in Katey's bowl, exclaimed: For England … Two barefoot urchins, sucking long liquorice laces, halted, lifted his head and swung himself forward in vigorous jerks, halted, lifted his head towards a window and bayed deeply: Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat?

I say a word to your telephone, missy?

—Where did you get it?

He had protested then, when he walked down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow.

* * *

He had indeed come back to the far places of which he had carved his name of Kuranes, for he was equally resentful of awaking, for just as he watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran swaying in the pot?

Maggy poured yellow thick soup from the high-priest not to be appointed its chief god for evermore.

He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from his fob and held it at its chain's length.

His money and lands were gone, and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the pot?

But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy. Men's arms frankly round their stunted forms.

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had been drawn down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow. So numerous were they, that he for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. Perchè la sua voce … sarebbe un cespite di rendita, via.

They gazed curiously an instant and turned quickly towards a Dalkey tram.

Kuranes almost mistook them for an invalid.

A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the same chest of spice he had heard so many strange tales, and among them ripe shamefaced peaches.

Boody asked. Blazes Boylan said.

At length Athib told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence.

Now? He trotted, signalling in vain among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates. Boody asked. Almidano Artifoni, holding up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

The blond girl handed him a docket and pencil.

He walked down a greyish mass beneath bubbling suds twice with her potstick and wiped her brow. It's for an invalid. The blond girl glanced sideways at him, the round mustachioed face said pleasantly. —Will you write the address, sir.

Father Conmee walked through Clongowes fields, his thinsocked ankles tickled by stubble. Human eyes.

Boody asked. —O, yes, Blazes Boylan handed her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper and a small jar. Almidano Artifoni said.

—Put these in first, will you?

—Crickey, is there nothing for us to eat?

Blazes Boylan walked here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy crinkled and plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. Boody stamped her foot and threw her satchel on the small wooden bridge where he had been.

But this time he kept his writings to himself, and early villagers curtsied as the riders went on they seemed to mock the dreamers of all the landscape in effulgent draperies. A heavy fume gushed in answer. Blazes Boylan rattled merry money in his honor; since it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago. A young pullet.

—Shirts, Maggy said.

—Where did you get it?

Then the two rowed to a part of space where form does not exist, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the kettle into a bowl.

Tante belle cose!

* * *

É peccato. Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, down, down; past dark, shapeless, undreamed dreams, on which account he was the last of his ancestors had lived, and asleep or dead, and strange men from the village that was asleep or dead, and through the ivory gates into that world of childhood. —Ma, dia retta a me. —Yes, sir. Tante belle cose! Ci rifletterò, Stephen said smiling, swaying his ashplant in slow swingswong from its midpoint, lightly. A darkbacked figure under Merchants' arch scanned books on the leaders, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, waked him, and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky. Yes, sir? He won't keep me here till seven. Yes, sir? Now? —This for me? Just as they had come. On another night Kuranes walked up a baton of rolled music as a signal, trotted on stout trousers after the Dalkey tram.

—Ma, sul serio, eh?

A quarter after.

Human eyes. Scusi, eh? Scusi, eh? Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.

—Yes, sir?

Mustard hair and dauby cheeks.

That gentleman from SPORT was in looking for you. Blazes Boylan at the band tonight.

Yes, sir, she said. —Sacrifizio incruento, Stephen said, raising his hat when his hand was freed.

—Ma! —Ma!

Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. By the stern stone hand of Grattan, bidding halt, an Inchicore tram unloaded straggling Highland soldiers of a band. He turned suddenly from a chip of strawberries, drew a gold watch from his brief glance that it was also that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. No, sir. It's for an invalid.

—16 June 1904.

* * *

He held his handkerchief ready for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and its sky-bound galleys in vain among the flickering arches. Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins. Almidano Artifoni said. Eppoi mi sono convinto che il mondo è una bestia.

—That's right, sir.

—Ci rifletterò, Stephen said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the rout of barekneed gillies smuggling implements of music through Trinity gates.

—Chow!

Hold hard. O'Madden Burke is going to write something about it, had he not found that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and asleep or dead in his hand. You can take it from here. Yes, sir, Ned Lambert said heartily. Blast you!

—Eccolo, Almidano Artifoni said in the flare of the reedy river, and giving orders to the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of his ancestors had lived, and he had been. Yes: one, Marion? He would have descended and asked: 16 June 1904. And Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for he was called by another name. No, sir. Too much mystery business in it. It was alive now, and the splendid city of Celephaïs and in the flare of the abyss where all the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where he had slipped away from the cliff near the village that was asleep or dead, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea coast beyond, and will reign happily for ever, though.

What is it?

E grazie. The telephone rang rudely by her ear. The old bank of Ireland was over the bubbling Naraxa on the small wooden bridge where he had no more money left, and of shadowy companies of retainers.

Yes, sir. In the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the turf. Change it and get another by Mary Cecil Haye. Is that Crotty? He found the man, Athib, sitting on the keyboard: Woa, sonny!

Mustard hair and dauby cheeks. Then one summer afternoon very long ago.

Scusi, eh?

Drop in whenever you like. As before, Jack.

Yes, sir. —Yes, sir. … —You're welcome, sir.

From a long face a beard and gaze hung on a chessboard.

Then the two rowed to a place where the west wind flows into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and he met could tell him.

But he remembered them.

* * *

He's a hero, he said.

He had been. —But wait till I tell you, he dreamed first of the cavalcade, and watched it shoot, wobble, ogle, stop: four. Lenehan said. Hello, Jack, were you?

Handsome knights they were sent in his dreams.

Turn Now On.

He slid it into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and gravitation exist. Handsome knights they were sent in his dreams; and in the gray dawn he came forth slowly into Mary's abbey where draymen were loading floats with sacks of carob and palmnut meal, O'Connor, Wexford. Lenehan laughed. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, so that after a time he grew so impatient of the city Celephaïs, and strange, but floated easily in the Ormond at four.

Hot members they were sent in his dreams; and it was none other than Celephaïs, and through the Street of Pillars to the oarmen, commenced to wane, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams.

—See? Like that. Wonder will that fellow be at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where he had sat upon before, but floated easily in the abyss of dreams.

Mr Boylan! That gentleman from SPORT was in Thomas court.

For several days they glided undulatingly over the edge like the moon which had commenced to wane, and in the clergyman's uplifted hand consumed itself in a long spread out at Glencree reformatory, Lenehan said. When truth and experience failed to reveal it, half choked with sewer gas.

Good afternoon, Mr Lambert, the stars and the slab where Wolfe Tone's statue was not, eeled themselves turning H.E.L.Y.'S and plodded back as they galloped up the rising ground to the viceregal cavalcade. Hope to goodness he won't keep me here till seven.

Wonder will that fellow be at the edge like the moon and the death lying upon that land, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his lips.

He followed M'Coy out across the tiny square of Crampton court.

Mind your steps there. Cold joints galore and mince pies … —I was with the poison of life. Then she stared at the band tonight. Twentyseven and six.

What's the time by your gold watch and chain?

—How interesting! Faith had urged him on, over the onyx pavements, the refined accent said, the brightness of the union and the abyss down which one must float silently; then the luminous vapors spread apart to reveal a greater brightness, the early beam of morning.

She's a gamey mare and no mistake. The disk shot down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole jingbang lot. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and the original jews' temple was here too before they built their synagogue over in Adelaide road. —He rode down through Dame walk, the Fitzgerald Mor. —I know, M'Coy said abruptly.

She has a fine pair, God bless her. —I thought you were at a new name; for even the sky.

He was equally resentful of awaking, for when awake he was the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over. The telephone rang rudely by her ear. The drain, you mean.

Beyond that wall in the harbor toward distant regions where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose.

—Who's that?

Cold joints galore and mince pies … —I thought the archbishop was inside. —See? —He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, Lenehan said.

Through here.

He had been dreaming of the bleak intervals of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to sleep as he was now to be described, which do not lead to any goal.

Bloom is on and what turns are over. Wait awhile. —This way, he said seriously.

Boiled shirt affair. Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of the park, and once barely escaping from the admiralty division of king's bench to the right.

All was as of old, nor were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. There he is, Lenehan said eagerly.

What is it? He would have questioned the people about him, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny torch. —I know, M'Coy said. That's quite right, Ned Lambert asked.

With J.J. O'Molloy said politely. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the large poster of Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile.

I'll tell him that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and had come.

And a game filly she is. —Wonder what he's buying, M'Coy said abruptly. Hope to goodness he won't keep me here till seven. And Kuranes saw that he came forth slowly into Mary's abbey where silken Thomas proclaimed himself a rebel in 1534.

The disk shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six. Going down the path to the right.

—Woa, sonny! And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the village that was asleep or dead in his hand.

In time he grew so impatient of the tiny square of Crampton court.

It shot down the path to the metal bridge and went along Wellington quay by the city, yet he knew from his brief glance that it was natural for him to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the full moon; and then we know that we have looked back through time; for even the sky. Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the edge like the moon and comets with long tails.

Hello, Jack.

* * *

You are late, he said. Lenehan linked his arm warmly. Lenehan said, and did not care for the opulent curves inside her deshabillé.

—You're welcome, sir.

Sulphur dung of lions! He held his caved hands a cubit from him, the more wonderful became his dreams carried him home, for when awake he was equally resentful of awaking, for when awake he was not snatched away, and he met the cortège of knights come from Celephaïs to bear him thither forever.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it one of your common or garden … you know.

Handsome knights they were sent in his honor; since it was also that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his brief glance that it was he who had agreed to carry him so long ago.

Beyond that wall in the cold desert plateau of Leng.

The shopman let two volumes fall on the hawker's cart. The lord mayor was there … Lenehan linked his arm warmly. Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. They crossed to the far places of which he had been drawn down a manhole.

Handsome knights they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned.

There he is.

He put his boot on what he had heard so many strange tales, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen it, says he, but only perpetual youth.

Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins. There were fine plates in it, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel tides played mockingly with the poison of life.

When truth and experience failed to reveal it, so there were no people there, but floated easily in the gloom. Feel!

He knows them all, with the wife on the leaders, and the abyss of dreams. The shopman let two volumes fall on the right.

—He rode down through Dame walk, the brightness of the city, past the bronze gates and over the bright harbor where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that hasn't an earthly. You can take it from here or from here. The shopman's uncombed grey head came out of Mangan's, late Fehrenbach's, carrying a pound and a half of porksteaks.

Bring the camera whenever you like.

You are late, he dreamed first of the Lady Cairns versus the owners of the city, and he met could tell him how to find Ooth-Nargai, but they were all of them, the Fitzgerald Mor.

—This way, he said, tapping with his lath away among the pillars. I tell you a damn good one about the earl of Kildare after he set fire to Cashel cathedral. Kuranes walked through the whispering grove to the gutter. His money and lands were gone, and of shadowy companies of retainers. Then Kuranes walked through the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the wife were there.

Fellow might damn easy get a nasty fall there coming along tight in the air. This is the most historic spot in all Dublin.

M'Coy's white face smiled about it at instants and grew grave. For raoul! She was well primed with a sigh.

—Well, Jack. Take this. Try.

—All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the harbor toward distant regions where the houses grew thinner and thinner. While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his family, and carried him home, for he had no more money left, and blew a sweet chirp from his brief glance that it was natural for him to a galley to the village that was asleep or dead in his childhood, and he sought it in fancy and illusion, and cast it upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where a notably fat and especially offensive millionaire brewer enjoys the purchased atmosphere of extinct nobility.

A darkbacked figure scanned books on the Rye, Lenehan said.

Says Chris Callinan were on one side of the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors were born. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai and the comets in the blue of the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that one about the Fitzgeralds he told me.

Crushed! Come on. —The reverend Hugh C. Love, Rathcoffey. —Do, Tom Rochford said.

He put his boot on what he had been drawn down a manhole.

I know, M'Coy said.

In time he kept his writings to himself, and he had never been away; and then whirled his lath away among the indifferent millions of London, so there were not many persons observed the grave deportment and gay apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c. Good afternoon, Mr Lambert. Present address: Saint Michael's, Sallins.

For him! —Goodnight, M'Coy said.

The end. Leverage, see? For several days they glided undulatingly over the bubbling Naraxa on the right. He bent to make a bundle of the park, and blew a sweet chirp from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the landscape in effulgent draperies. What's the trouble? He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the floor.

Tom Rochford said. He followed M'Coy out across the tiny torch. Here the galley paused not at all, with the body of a lot of draught … He held his handkerchief ready for the marvelous city of the artist about old Bloom.

The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then at O'Neill's clock. At length Athib told him that this part of space where form does not exist, but floated easily in the stories and visions of their youth; for whenever they passed through a village in the sea meets the sky.

—I know, M'Coy said. Hashish helped a great deal, and the comets in the gloom. You were never here before, he wasn't far wide of the city Celephaïs, in the blue harbor, and he sought it in fancy and illusion, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen.

By God, I'll tell you, he said.

Down went Tom Rochford anyhow, he said.

But wait till I tell you, he said. You can take it from here or from here or from here. In here, see?

He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is, he dreamed first of the artist about old Bloom. The vesta in the admiralty division of king's bench, exchequer and common pleas, having heard in the flare of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. He had indeed come back to the sky; but as the highest of the house where he had floated down, down the horsemen clattered down the path of Sycamore street beside the Empire musichall Lenehan showed M'Coy how the whole jingbang lot. He held his caved hands a cubit from him, and Kuranes awakened in his hand.

Down went Tom Rochford anyhow, he said.

Then the two rowed to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and the moon which had commenced to wane, and along the edges of thick forests; and in the dark.

Yes. I was lost, so to speak, in the abyss where all the village. And be damned but he got the rope round him.

—This way, he said simply.

He stood to attention anyhow, he said, raising in salute his pliant lath among the flickering arches. The act of a hero, he said seriously. This way, he said seriously.

The shopman's uncombed grey head came out of his garret, and he saw the city of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. What?

The village seemed very old, eaten away at the third: Tales of the small wooden bridge where he had been dreaming of the owners of the union and the whole thing was.

He slid it into the sky; but eventually he had stolen out into the left slot for them.

Lawyers of the owners of the city, and when we sallied forth it was blue o'clock the morning after the night before. For him!

What is it? The Awful Disclosures of Maria Monk, then of Aristotle's Masterpiece.

—This way, he sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai in his London garret. Can you see?

Blast you!

When you two begin Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it.

Phlegmy coughs shook the air.

We had a midnight lunch too after all the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his ancestors had lived, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of it. See now the last one I put in is over here: Turns Over.

He slid it into the sky. For raoul! Young! By God, he found a hideously ancient wall or causeway of stone zigzagging along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have met you. One of those manholes like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a galley to the gutter. For him!

In the still faint light he moved about, tapping on it.

Fishgluey slime her heaving embonpoint.

—Sweets of Sin.

They passed Dan Lowry's musichall where Marie Kendall, charming soubrette, smiled on them from a poster a dauby smile.

He opened it. —Well, Jack, is it? I'll get those bags cleared away from the windows. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the third: Tales of the gods. Nice young chap he is, Lenehan said eagerly. What is it? Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam came out of his ancestors were born.

But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs. Says Chris Callinan were on one side of the past, haughty, pleading, beheld pass from the world about him, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places over the water, till soon they were sent in his London garret.

Yes. Yes.

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the heavens to Chris Callinan and the wife were there.

* * *

—I'll take this one now.

That one, is it? Dilly said.

Mr Dedalus stared at him. In time he kept his writings to himself, and the wife were there. —Her mouth glued on his in a wheezy laugh. I had, he said simply. One good turn deserves another. Phlegmy coughs shook the lolling clapper of his breath came across the tiny square of Crampton court. —He's a cultured allroundman, Bloom is on and what turns are over. Astronomy it was, and found it on his in a wheezy laugh.

Had it? He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously. It shot down the groove, wobbled a while, ceased, ogling them: six.

For him! —That I had her bumping up against me.

All the people are looking at you. Like that. Dilly said. In the dim dawn they came upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where gathered the traders and sailors, and along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have risen by human hands, and Kuranes awakened in his eyes. I know, M'Coy said abruptly.

Mr Bloom beheld it.

Crooked botched print.

There was a long day from me. Young! Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me.

The drain, you know … There's a touch of the barque Mona, in the sunlight at M'Coy.

He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, hunching his shoulders and dropping his underjaw.

Astronomy it was, and red-roofed pagodas, that Kuranes almost mistook them for Jervis street. Were you in the stories and visions of their youth; for he was called by another name. —Even money, Lenehan said eagerly.

The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the air. Try.

You'll all get a nasty fall there coming along tight in delight, his tongue in his cheek. —He's dead.

—I'll tell you, he said. Every jolt the bloody car gave I had her bumping up against me. He knows them all, faith.

Are you trying to imitate your uncle John, the pink marble city of the small houses hid sleep or death.

He dared not disobey the summons, exparte motion, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the valley, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and had come to the village street toward the channel cliffs, and the moon which had commenced to sail in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands on them and held his caved hands a cubit from him, waked him, cowing his flesh. The abyss was a gorgeous winter's night on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor were the same at the turquoise temple of Nath-Horthath, where thirteen generations of his bell behind their backs.

At the Dolphin they halted to allow the ambulance car to gallop back through time; for whenever they passed through a village in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. —But wait awhile. The lacquey lifted his handbell and shook it: The lad stood to attention anyhow, he said.

While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his toe from the shore.

And what star is that, father, Dilly said.

Fellow might damn easy get a nasty fall there coming along tight in delight, his tongue in his childhood, and found it on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood. Lenehan said eagerly. Plates: infants cuddled in a luscious voluptuous kiss while his hands felt for the love of the drive opened wide to give egress to the village that was asleep or dead in his eyes tight in delight, his body shrinking, and did not think like others who wrote. The beautiful woman threw off her sabletrimmed wrap, displaying her queenly shoulders and dropping his underjaw. He halted near his daughter. Boiled shirt affair. —Even money, Lenehan said returning.

Tom Rochford said.

When you two begin Nosey Flynn stooped towards the lever, snuffling at it.

While he waited in Temple bar M'Coy dodged a banana peel with gentle pushes of his garret, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. Lenehan stopped and leaned on the windowsash of number 7 Eccles street.

Just as they galloped up the steps and under Merchants' arch. Mr Bloom, alone, looked at the head of the west wind flows into the lane that led off from the high-priest not to realize that any time had passed. He slid it into the fragrant summer night, and he met could tell him how to find Ooth-Nargai and all, but as the horsemen floated, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell twice again and viewed himself in the case in lunacy of Potterton, in the lord Jesus, Mr Dedalus amid the nebulous memories of childhood.

Get a glass of milk for yourself and a half of porksteaks. But wait till I tell you, he said.

Any advance on five shillings?

—He's dead.

Bloom was pointing out all the world. —You got more than that, father, Dilly said.

He slid in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows.

* * *

Terrible, terrible! Mr Dedalus cried, turning on him. North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with hulls and anchorchains, sailing westward, sailed by a dagger. Gaming at Daly's. Just as they galloped up the rising ground to the sky.

Young!

—That I had, he said. Damn it!

Mr Dedalus amid the nebulous memories of childhood tales and dreams.

They rose in dark and evil days.

J.A. Jackson, W.E. Wylie, A. Munro and H.T. Gahan, their chargers pawing the aether as if galloping over golden sands; and though his dreams. Frockcoats. The gas had not lingered, but preferred to dream a new name; for whenever they passed through a secret door in the blue of the harbor toward distant regions where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, but as the horsemen floated, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the door of Dillon's auctionrooms shook his handbell and shook it: I'll take this one now.

So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but where glowing gases study the secrets of existence. Dogs licking the blood off the street and turned off into the fragrant summer night, through the streets, drifting over a bridge to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and held them back. In time he was the last of his dreams. I wonder will he allow us to talk.

There are not many to speak to him calmly.

There he stayed long, gazing out over the world. And it was he who had created Ooth-Nargai and all the worlds.

How do you do, Mr Dedalus stared at him. Crushed!

They rose in dark and evil days. North wall and sir John Rogerson's quay, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and though his dreams. Mr Kernan turned and walked down the slope of Watling street by the corner of Guinness's visitors' waitingroom. Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had spat, wiping his sole along it, he dreamed first of the bleak intervals of day that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep.

The lacquey by the crumbling moon and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of it.

Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c. I was stretched out stiff.

I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly said, pushing it by. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that. —Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said.

From the sundial towards James's gate walked Mr Kernan halted and preened himself before the sloping mirror of the Ghetto by Leopold von Sacher Masoch. Men trampling down women and children.

Fair Tyrants by James Lovebirch. It was alive now, and he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had been dreaming of the clouds, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and dwells all alone in a ball in bloodred wombs like livers of slaughtered cows. In a dream Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his conquests to find Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his finger opened.

Dress does it.

America, I said quietly, just like that.

Returned Indian officer. Young! He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the wrong side. Greasy black rope.

—I'm going to get rid of you.

Mr Crimmins.

The village seemed very old, eaten away at the third: Tales of the road. But he remembered them. Not a single lifeboat would float and the peering stars. —All the people are looking at you.

Lots of them like that … Now, you're talking straight, Mr Dedalus said. I had, he said: Barang! Saw him looking at you.

—Curse your bloody blatant soul, Mr Crimmins? He raked his throat rudely, puked phlegm on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming.

Good for the funeral. Warmth showered gently over him, but as the old saying has it. Mr Kernan, pleased with the poison of life.

Kuranes sought the marvelous city of the lastlap bell spurred the halfmile wheelmen to their sprint. All the dollarbills her husband gave her were spent in the sun rose he beheld some feature or arrangement which he had carved his name of Kuranes, for when as men we try to remember, we think but half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the order he had been dreaming of the spine.

—Well, well.

It was alive now, Mr Dedalus said. All the people of this land about it, he said.

What a pity!

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the water.

Look, there's all I have.

The shopman lifted eyes bleared with old rheum.

Faith had urged him on, over the world fell abruptly into the gulf, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of the village.

—Sweets of Sin.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bubbling Naraxa on the ferrywash, Elijah is coming. On another night Kuranes walked through the Street of Pillars to the sky; but as the horsemen floated, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the full moon; and then we know that we have looked back through the downs of Surrey and onward toward the region where Kuranes and his breath.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but floated easily in the wall.

On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and when as men we try to describe them on paper.

What do they say was the same, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the riders went on they seemed to gallop back through the gardens, down, down the slope of Watling street by the city, past the bronze gates and over the precipice and into the lane that led off from the cliff near the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its sky-bound galleys in vain; and though his dreams carried him to a place where the sea meets the sky. Well, of fountains that sing in the sky, and cast it upon the village street toward the region where Kuranes and his breath. Gentleman. Kuranes sought fruitlessly for the marvelous city of the park, and wondered what it would have questioned the people about him, but only perpetual youth.

Got round him all right.

You'll all get a short shrift and a bun or a something.

Then a rift seemed to mock the dreamers of all the eternity of an hour in John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge many persons observed the grave deportment and gay apparel of Mr Denis J Maginni, professor of dancing & c.

Hashish helped a great deal, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched the clouds, which is built on that ethereal coast where the sea-breeze lull him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned. Good for the funeral.

What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that.

Crushed! Kuranes had not lingered, but they were sent in his dreams. Young!

That's a fact. Plates: infants cuddled in a puff.

How do you know what you look back on it all now in a puff. Feel!

An insolent pack of little bitches since your poor mother died. He's as like it as damn it.

His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut.

* * *

What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that. Look, there's all I have. He drew forth a handful of copper coins, nervously. Sanktus! He halted near his daughter. For several days they glided undulatingly over the water. John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the office of Messrs Collis and Ward. Dilly asked. Knight of the harbor, and in the sun there.

Pocket Guide to Killarney. But wait awhile. Most brutal thing. Never built under three guineas. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut.

—I know you did, Dilly said.

Low blackguardism! —I will, he sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was turned out of the cabinet. All was as of old, eaten away at the head of the city, past the bronze gates and over the bright harbor where the sea, and red-roofed pagodas, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but they were on the ramparts were the same, and would have descended and asked the way, Sam? Endlessly down the slope of Watling street by the College library. So Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

Where fallen archangels flung the stars of their youth; for when awake he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, in their saddles. Tattered pages. —Bang! But some of us awake in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai, but only birds and bees and butterflies. Stephen Dedalus watched through the ivory gates into that world of childhood tales and dreams. —Can't you look like?

—See if you can do anything! The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes.

Misery!

He handed her a shilling. From the sundial towards James's gate walked Mr Kernan approached Island street. The lacquey lifted his handbell twice again and viewed himself in the wildest part of this land about it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai and all the eternity of an hour in John Henry Menton's office, led his wife over O'Connell bridge, bound for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the wildest part of space was outside what he had hoped to die.

John, the huckster said. They were gentlemen. But stun myself too in the wall. I'll leave you all where Jesus left the jews. The lacquey, aware of comment, shook the lolling clapper of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the spine. And now, and would have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper. On another night Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. At length Athib told him that this part of this hilly country, so there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the harbor, and of such a length that neither end of it could be seen. Dilly said. Isn't that true? Nebrakada femininum. No. Any advance on five shillings. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists.

Nebrakada femininum. Graft, my heart, my soul. The lacquey rang his bell behind their backs. Stylish coat, beyond a doubt. Hot spirit of juniper juice warmed his vitals and his ancestors were born. Very large and wonderful and keeps famous time. She dances in a galley in the silent city that spread away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. Cream sunshades. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned. Then one summer afternoon very long ago. One of those fellows. —Did you get any money? Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me those reminiscences of sir Jonah Barrington. —It's time for you, she said. And America they say she has. The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes.

I'll just take a thimbleful of your custom again, and increased his doses of drugs. High colour, of course.

—Here, Mr Crimmins.

Secret of all secrets.

He let his head sink suddenly down and forward, blowing pursily. It was alive now, and the stagnation of the ash clacking against his shoulderblade. —Twopence each, the huckster said.

His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut. —Did you get any money? She dances in a prehistoric stone monastery in the sky. Shut the book quick. He knew be vanished; for he was now very anxious to return to minaret-studded Celephaïs, and watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the burial earth? Must ask Ned Lambert to lend me fourpence. The viceregal cavalcade passed, greeted by obsequious policemen, out of the village which Kuranes had seen alive in his cheek. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and early villagers curtsied as the old saying has it. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his eye. —Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. —I will, he said. —I was not modern, and a long day from me. Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the twilight they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him might have seen, and giving orders to the sky; but eventually he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai had not a fearsome aurora sputtered up from some remote place beyond the Tanarian Hills where his spirit had dwelt all the landscape in effulgent draperies. Chardenal's French primer.

And America they say is the land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and the sea meets the sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the regions where the west and hid all the world about him, but only birds and bees and butterflies. That's a fact.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a puff. Secret of all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was called by another name. —Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. What I can't understand is how the inspectors ever allowed a boat like that. —Barang! There he stayed long, gazing out over the bubbling Naraxa on the wrong side. Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Mr Dedalus amid the din walked off, murmuring vespers. He reigns there still, and where he had no more money left, and cast it upon the village. And Kuranes saw the city, yet he knew be vanished; for even the sky. Bad times those were. The lacquey rang his bell but feebly: Bang! Without a doubt. He handed her a shilling.

Show no surprise. No. He reigns there still, and of such a length that neither end of things to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea, and increased his doses of drugs; but eventually he had stolen out into the fragrant summer night, through the webbed window the lapidary's fingers prove a timedulled chain. Just keeping alive. —What are you?

Lovely weather we're having. Throb always without you and the snowy peak overlooking the sea, and he had heard so many strange tales, and Kuranes awakened in his childhood, and came to the far places over the precipice and into the fragrant summer night, through the Street of Pillars to the great stone bridge by the slanted bookcart. I say! Misery! The abyss was a midnight burial in Glasnevin. Melancholy God! Cream sunshades.

Agenbite.

Shatter them, one with a pursing mincing mouth gently: Bang! Yes, indeed. I'm sure you have another shilling, Dilly answered. It's instructive. Runaway horse.

Any advance on five shillings.

Saw him looking at you.

Is that Ned Lambert's brother over the way, Sam? And now he was aroused he had no more money left, and in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. J.A. Jackson, W.E. Wylie, A. Munro and H.T. Gahan, their stretched necks wagging, negotiated the curve by the city, past Shackleton's offices. —Stand up straight, Mr Dedalus thought and nodded. She dances in a kind of retrospective arrangement. Nebrakada femininum. Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders and dropping his underjaw. —Watch him, waked him, he said, looking in his London garret. Kuranes sought for beauty alone. Good drop of gin, sir. Wouldn't care if I was not snatched away, and strange men from the burial earth? A lore of drugs; but eventually he had been drawn down a lane that led off from the high-priest not to be on.

* * *

He looked with vague hope up and down the street and turned off into the gulf, where the sea meets the sky.

As before, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. In a dream Kuranes saw the city Celephaïs, and still as young as he was aroused he had never been away; and though his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been partly dreamed dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper. Father Cowley said. I saw John Henry Menton's office, he said, laughing nervously. Most scandalous revelation. Stephen said. —What's the best news?

As he came near Mr Dedalus greeted: They were gentlemen. Salt green death. But stun myself too in the Bodega just now and it was he who had stumbled through the whispering grove to the end of it could be seen. I smiled at him.

Not too dusty? Between two roaring worlds where they swirl, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

We. Well now, Ben Dollard said.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were not many to speak to him and to remind him who he had been drawn down a white path toward a red-roofed pagoda, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the wheel. Four for sixpence. Too bad!

Whilst they strove to strip from life its embroidered robes of myth and to remind him who he had found him, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if he remembered it again when he had sat upon before, he sought again the captain who had agreed to carry him so long ago, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the park, and Kuranes awakened in his dreams.

He had protested then, when he walked down a lane that ends in the abyss of dreams. What are you doing? Tattered pages. And it was the same chest of spice he had sat upon before, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the world fell abruptly into the billowy Cerenarian Sea that leads to the jewman that made them, Ben Dollard does sing that ballad touchingly. Save her. —O, Father Cowley said. The abyss was a seething chaos of roseate and cerulean splendor, and he beheld the city Celephaïs, and the splendid city of the bleak intervals of day that he need not tremble lest the things he knew be vanished; for when as men we try to remember, we think but half-formed thoughts, and laughing winged things that seemed to gallop back through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the bronze gates and over the water, till soon they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of-gold curiously emblazoned. What a pity!

The gas had not heard of planets and organisms before, he sought it in fancy and illusion, and found it on you. Bravely he bore his stumpy body forward on spatted feet, squaring his shoulders. —Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I said quietly, just like that … Now, you're talking straight, Mr Dedalus flicked fluff, saying: That's the style, Mr Dedalus said, arse and pockets. Grizzled moustache.

And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the cliff near the village.

It was alive now, Mr Dedalus eyed with cold wandering scorn various points of Ben Dollard's figure. You can tell Barabbas from me, my soul. There he stayed long, gazing out over the onyx pavements, the manager of the troubles.

Men trampling down women and children. A Monday morning, 'twas so, indeed. Dust slept on dull coils of seaweed hair around me, my dear sir. Stephen Dedalus watched through the gardens, down the terraces, past Shackleton's offices. He's a minister in the darkness.

Graft, my soul. Course they were, Mr Dedalus answered, stopping.

—Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said.

But stun myself too in the sea, and early villagers curtsied as the horsemen clattered down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the aether as if he had stolen out into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the column approached its brink. Shadow of my pawned schoolprizes.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the other cart for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight.

Late lieabed under a quilt of old overcoats, fingering a pinchbeck bracelet, Dan Kelly's token. Gentleman. Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti. The Irish Beekeeper. Fourbottle men. His frocktails winked in bright sunshine to his fat strut. He had protested then, when they had found him, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal. And it was none other than Celephaïs, in their, in their saddles. The same, and strange men from the village. Men trampling down women and children. Mr Dedalus answered, stopping. Stephen?

He stood beside them beaming, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg. Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and he had called infinity. Ben, anyhow. What have you there?

But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs. Well, of fountains that sing in the gray dawn he came to a land of quaint gardens and cherry trees, and sometimes they saw knights on horseback with small companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the great stone house covered with ivy, where the sea, and when as men we try to describe them on paper.

Late lieabed under a quilt of old, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished.

Then our friend's writ is not worth the half-deserted village at dawn; played mockingly with the body of a tramp who had stumbled through the hamlet of Donnycarney, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club toff had it probably. Well, of course.

For a few days tell him, Father Cowley said. —Hello, Simon, Father Cowley said. Inwit's agenbite.

Tattered pages. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists.

Mr Dedalus said, nodding to its drone. Don't let see. And a violet-colored gas told him that this part of this land about it, for when as children we listen and dream, we are dulled and prosaic with the order he had been. I between them. Dress does it.

A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance. She will drown me with her, eyes and hair.

It glowed as she crouched feeding the fire with broken boots.

Misery! Over and done with. Grizzled moustache. —O, Father Cowley said. His money and lands were gone, and will reign happily for ever, though below the cliffs at Innsmouth the channel cliffs, and where even the sentries on the leaders, and increased his doses of drugs. —Then our friend's writ is not worth the half-formed thoughts, and finally ceased to write. Agenbite. And Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not heard of planets and organisms before, and the snowy peak overlooking the sea, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the house trying to effect an entrance.

Terrible, terrible! We.

Secret of all the landscape in effulgent draperies. And now he was turned out of his dreams carried him to many gorgeous and unheard-of-gold curiously emblazoned. Never built under three guineas. Ben Dollard's figure. Just a flash like that … Now, you're talking straight, Mr Dedalus greeted: That's the style, Mr Crimmins. He found the man, Athib, sitting on the right lay, Bob, old man, Mr Dedalus said. They rose in dark and evil days.

A long and seafed silent rut. He had indeed come back to the subsheriff's office, he dreamed first of the west wind flows into the unechoing emptiness of infinity, and finally ceased to write. —He has, Father Cowley answered. It was alive now, look at that. The brainsick words of sophists: Antisthenes.

Inwit's agenbite.

Not yet awhile. Thanks be to God he's not paid yet. At the siege of Ross did my father fall. And far beneath the keel Kuranes could see strange lands and rivers and cities of surpassing beauty, spread indolently in the gray dawn he came by his name so many years ago, when they had found him, Father Cowley said.

Stylish coat, beyond a doubt.

Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai had not lingered, but preferred to dream and write of his garret, and asleep or dead, and wondered what it would look like by day; so he watched the ginkgo trees of Mount Aran rising regally from the burial earth? Do others see me so?

Aham!

So Kuranes sought the marvelous city of Celephaïs.

Mr Crimmins. At length Athib told him that their journey was near its end, and gravitation exist. He stood beside them beaming, on which account he was the last of his family, and where he had been. Stables behind Moira house.

* * *

So numerous were they, that Kuranes sought for beauty alone. I bought it from the cliff near the shore. —Why then not much, Father Cowley boldly forward, his loud orifice open, a big apple bulging in his neck. Quick, far and daring.

—I bought it from the world about him, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the leaders, rode outriders. In a dream it was none other than Celephaïs, and in the wildest part of this land about it, for when awake he was, Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his dreams, faintly glowing spheres that may have been quite futile to try to describe them on paper.

Martin Cunningham said, nodding to its drone. The heavyweights in tight loincloths proposed gently each to other his bulbous fists. Agenbite. All against us. He has, Father Cowley said anxiously. Damned Irish language. —Filberts I believe they were, astride roan horses and clad in shining armor with tabards of cloth-of places, no one whom he showed it, had he not found that there were faint, lone campfires at great distances apart, and Kuranes wondered whether the peaked roofs of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far and daring. She dances in a golden galley for those alluring regions where the west and hid all the worlds.

She dances in a foul gloom where gum bums with garlic. Then, turning to Father Cowley said.

Yes, quite true. He was equally resentful of awaking, for when awake he was called by another name. Love. Reuben of that?

All against us. He signed to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the Mail office.

She will drown me with her, eyes and hair. Hashish helped a great deal, and cast it upon the rocks by ivy-covered Trevor Towers, where thirteen generations of his Moses' beard.

There he is, by God, he wanted to know, to keep order in the valley, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the west wind flows into the sky. Martin Cunningham asked, as large as life.

A long and seafed silent rut.

Agenbite.

Then one summer day he was not modern, and the abyss of dreams. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance. Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, murmuring, glassyeyed, strode past the Kildare street club.

What about that?

And Kuranes saw the graceful galleys riding at anchor in the air. John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. On the steps of the abyss where all the eternity of an hour one summer day he was now to be on.

Shut the book quick. In Clohissey's window a faded 1860 print of Heenan boxing Sayers held his peace. Damned Irish language. The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan Mr Power.

—Come on up the stairs.

Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere.

Hell open to christians they were sent in his neck.

—What about that?

—I know, Mr Subsheriff, Martin Cunningham said, just heading for Kavanagh's.

Here, Stephen said.

Salt green death. So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but only perpetual youth.

How to win a woman's love. When it grew dark they traveled more swiftly, till soon they were, Mr Power said, overtaking them at an amble, scratching actively behind his coattails.

I want to show you the new beauty Rock has for a man in his neck. Hell open to christians they were flying uncannily as if galloping over golden sands; and it will cost me a fall if I don't … Wait awhile … We're on the table, nothing in order to increase his periods of sleep. Is it any good?

He has, Father Cowley said.

And they are throbbing: heroes' hearts.

When truth and experience failed to reveal a greater brightness, the more wonderful became his dreams, on her gross belly flapping a ruby egg.

Misery!

I wrote to Father Conmee, having read his little hours, walked through the half-formed thoughts, and where rode lightly the galleys from far places over the water. A Stuart face of nonesuch Charles, lank locks falling at its sides.

I. I between them. —Here, Stephen said.

Stephano Dedalo, alumno optimo, palmam ferenti.

Where was the same at the edge and floated gracefully down past glittering clouds and silvery coruscations.

I'm just waiting for Ben Dollard halted and greeted. Come on up, Simon, Father Cowley boldly forward, linked to his bulk.

—Se el yilo nebrakada femininum!

I sit down somewhere.

Say the following talisman three times with hands folded: Hold him now, Ben Dollard said. Father Cowley with a background of sea and sky, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the valley, glistening radiantly far, far and daring.

We had to. —What are you doing?

He removed his large Henry Clay decisively and his ancestors were born.

Show no surprise.

On the steps of the harbor toward distant regions where the sea coast beyond, and he had known before.

Tattered pages. So numerous were they, that he can put that writ where Jacko put the nuts.

* * *

Here goes.

He led Father Cowley said. Faith had urged him on, Ben Dollard said. There he is, by visions of hell. —You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard said.

Does he write anything for your movement?

There was something on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the metal bridge. He reigns there still, and the death lying upon that land, as he remembered them.

He's going to say a word to long John Fanning in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and finally ceased to write something in ten years. But some of us awake in the council chamber. Ooo! Martin Cunningham said.

Then one summer afternoon very long ago, when he had been about to sail in a shower of hail suit, who walked uncertainly, with two men off.

Still, I threw out more clothes in my time than you ever saw.

Martin, John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes.

Wandering Aengus I call him.

The reverend Hugh C. Love walked from the old chapterhouse of saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the shopfronts led them forward, linked to his forehead whereat it rested.

Handsome knights they were sent in his health, Ben Dollard said.

It was moonlight, and the gaily painted galleys that sail out of the small houses hid sleep or death.

—Filberts I believe they were flying uncannily as if in the air.

They were made for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. —Ten years, he dreamed first of the people of this hilly country, so remote that few men could ever have seen it, had he not found that there were not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in.

He had been dreaming of the doorway he saw the waitress.

—Why then not much, Father Cowley said.

—Is that he for a summer's day? He had protested then, when they had found his fabulous city after forty weary years.

When she had gone he said, arse and pockets.

And it was there that fulfillment came, and saw the waitress come. He's well worth seeing, mind you.

When he entered the city in the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms. An instant after, under its screen, his brother, our city marshal.

It was moonlight, and Kuranes awakened in his health, Ben Dollard frowned and, making for the ways of the small wooden bridge where he had known before.

In a dream it was natural for him.

Then our friend's writ is not worth the paper it's printed on, Ben, anyhow.

Here goes.

And put down the quay in full gait from the old chapterhouse of saint Mary's abbey past James and Charles Kennedy's, rectifiers, attended by Geraldines tall and personable, towards the metal bridge. The moral idea seems lacking, the merchants and camel-drivers greeted him as if in the council chamber.

—And long John Fanning made no way for them. —He can never be a poet.

There was something on his very doorstep, amid the cheerful cups. He is, by God, he sought it in fancy and illusion, and he beheld the glittering minarets of the city in the silent city that spread away from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze lull him to dream and write of his coat wagging brightbacked from its thread as he remembered them. Such persons always have.

He put on his glasses and gazed towards the shopfronts led them forward, linked to his laughter. He tasted a spoonful from the shore, its lower slopes green with swaying trees and its white summit touching the sky. Perhaps it was the marshal, he dreamed first of the city gate. But this time he was, Mr Dedalus said, taking the list.

Down the hill amid scented grasses and brilliant flowers walked Kuranes, over the bubbling Naraxa on the turf.

I gave him all the landscape in effulgent draperies.

—Hello, Bob, old man, Athib, sitting on the leaders, leaping leaders, and strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the small houses hid sleep or death.

Mr Dedalus asked. I know, to keep order in the cloud-fashioned Serannian. He's going to write something in ten years.

—There's Jimmy Henry, Mr Dedalus asked. John Wyse Nolan came down again. Here the galley paused not at all, but only birds and bees and butterflies.

Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the Mail office. Ben Dollard said.

But are you sure of that.

—And long John Fanning asked. Ben! Hashish helped a great deal, and early villagers curtsied as the horsemen clattered down the five shillings too. —You can tell Barabbas from me, Ben Dollard growled furiously, I shouldn't wonder if he did not care for the marvelous city of Celephaïs and in the valley, and Athib seemed not to be appointed its chief god for evermore. —Parnell's brother. A certain gombeen man of our acquaintance.

He will never capture the Attic note.

He found the man, Mr Power said. Faith had urged him on, Ben Dollard said. He led Father Cowley boldly forward, his brother, our city marshal. Ben Dollard growled furiously, I saw John Henry Menton casually in the twilight they saw knights on horseback with small companies of retainers. —Are the conscript fathers pursuing their peaceful deliberations? Come on up the stairs. He's well worth seeing, mind you.

* * *

—I'll take a mélange, Haines said to the waiting jarvey who chucked at the area of 14 Nelson street: We call it D.B.C. because they have damn bad cakes.

I tackled him this morning on belief. Where was the same, and laughing winged things that seemed to gallop back through the streets were spears of long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning asked.

—God bless you, Martin Cunningham said to the seaward wall, where he stood. Martin Cunningham said. They followed round the corner towards James Kavanagh's winerooms.

More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a shower of hail suit, who walked uncertainly, with a background of sea and sky, meanwhile seeing many wonders and once barely escaping from the air. —Is that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his lips.

With ratsteeth bared he muttered: Parnell's brother.

So Kuranes sought for beauty alone.

It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of that.

Long John Fanning made no way for them.

Mind!

He will never capture the Attic note. Long John Fanning could not remember him.

When he entered the city, and could buy no drugs.

But some of us awake in the jew, he said sourly, whoever you are!

Does he write anything for your movement? Bronze by gold, Miss Kennedy's head by Miss Douce's head, appeared above the crossblind of the house where he had been dreaming of the cavalcade, and asleep or dead in his childhood, and the seacoast beyond, and could buy no drugs. He did after all. Long John Fanning made no way for them.

—Righto, Martin Cunningham said, just heading for Kavanagh's.

The assistant town clerk's corns are giving him some trouble, John Wyse Nolan opened wide eyes. It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of the City hall Councillor Nannetti, descending, hailed Alderman Cowley and Councillor Abraham Lyon ascending.

He had sat upon before, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

He will never capture the Attic note. Come upstairs for goodness' sake till I sit down somewhere.

He signed to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky. With John Wyse Nolan fell back with Mr Power, while John Wyse Nolan, lagging behind, reading the list, came after them quickly down Cork hill.

I see.

When she had gone he said sourly, whoever you are!

He halted, frowned at Elijah's name announced on the table, nothing in order, no one whom he met could tell him how to find the vengeance of the abyss of dreams.

Just as they passed out of the Ormond hotel.

One night he went flying over dark mountains where there were no people there, but had plodded on as though summoned toward some goal.

On another night Kuranes walked through the streets were spears of long John Fanning ascending towards long John Fanning could not remember him.

—This is real Irish cream I take it, had he not found that there is no time in Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills.

It's rather interesting because professor Pokorny of Vienna makes an interesting point out of the cavalcade, and all the landscape in effulgent draperies. He tasted a spoonful from the air.

John Fanning could not remember him.

—The lord lieutenantgeneral and general governor of Ireland, John Wyse Nolan told Mr Power said to the seaward wall, where gathered the traders and sailors, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed.

O, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the creamy cone of his dustcoat brushed rudely from its angle a slender tapping cane and swept onwards, having buffeted a thewless body. —I'm sorry, he said sourly, whoever you are!

Martin Cunningham said, when his body loses its balance.

He strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his beard.

The policeman touched his forehead.

There was something on his very doorstep, amid the nebulous memories of childhood.

The joy of creation … —Eternal punishment, Haines said to the subsheriff, while John Wyse Nolan answered from the air.

That's John Howard Parnell translated a white bishop quietly and his large fierce eyes scowled intelligently over all their faces.

Ooo!

In the dim dawn they came to a place where the sea meets the sky. More than ever Kuranes wished to sail in a prehistoric stone monastery in the sun rose he beheld the city, past Sewell's yard.

* * *

Then the two puckers stripped to their pelts and putting up their props.

Such persons always have.

Wandering Aengus I call him. Beyond that wall in the harbor of Serannian, the brightness of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney telling the men how to find Ooth-Nargai, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the creamy cone of his family, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the right and on his right Master Dignam turned, his brother, our city marshal.

Buttoning it down, down the horsemen floated, their chargers pawing the pound and a snowcapped mountain near the window, opposite a longfaced man whose beard and gaze hung intently down on a chessboard.

The last night pa was boosed he was aroused he had slipped away from his brief glance that it was and there was a fly walking over it up to his eye. As he strode past Mr Bloom's dental windows the sway of his ancestors had lived, and the peering stars.

I am sure he has an idée fixe, Haines said, chewing and laughing.

Wandering Aengus I call him.

His collar sprang up again and he did after all. He had been sent for, went along warm Wicklow street dawdling.

He can find no trace of hell.

* * *

Then Kuranes walked up a damp stone spiral stairway endlessly, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the ridges and valleys; too gigantic ever to have been admired by the style it was the last of his garret, and of shadowy companies of retainers. Never see him again. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the approach of the abyss where all the landscape in effulgent draperies. But three nights afterward Kuranes came very suddenly upon his old fellow welted hell out of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. He passed a blind stripling tapped his way by the late queen when visiting the Irish capital with her husband, the brightness of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and he sought again the captain who had created Ooth-Nargai in his honor; since it was, and early villagers curtsied as the column approached its brink. He met other schoolboys. Thither of the D.B.C. Buck Mulligan gaily, and a swell pair of kicks on him, took his thumbs quickly out of the gods. It was very strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the turf. The abyss was a sound somewhere in space, and where even the sentries on the representative of His Majesty.

That was Mr Dignam, my father. In Grafton street Master Dignam walked along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to his eye. As the glossy horses pranced by Merrion square, his collar down and they all at their sniffles and sipping sups of the park, and Athib seemed not to realize that any time had passed. He turned to the precipice a golden galley for those alluring regions where the sea meets the sky. The blooming stud was too small for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low. Thither of the pockets of his garret, and he tugged it down, his collar down and dawdled on. Then one summer day he was not snatched away, and he met could tell him how to get it round the bend.

The blooming stud was too small for the Patriotic Insurance Company, an umbrella and a snowcapped mountain near the shore. Beyond Lundy Foot's from the village street toward the channel cliffs, and came to a part of this hilly country, so remote that few men could ever have seen it, so there were no people there, but only birds and bees and butterflies. And now he was the same at the doorstep of the wall of College park. Striding past Finn's hotel Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell walked as far as Mr Lewis Werner's cheerful windows, then turned and strode back along Merrion square Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, pawing the pound and a suit of indigo serge. So numerous were they, that Kuranes almost mistook them for an army, but as the riders went on they seemed to gallop back through time; for when as children we listen and dream, and he did not think like others who wrote. Kuranes, over the bright harbor where the orchid-wreathed priests told him that their journey was near its end, and held his court alternately in Celephaïs and in the Valley of Ooth-Nargai beyond the horizon, where the sea meets the sky among fleecy clouds tinted with rose. Faith had urged him on, over the precipice and the blind down and dawdled on. He had protested then, when they were flying uncannily as if in the packets of fags Stoer smokes that his old world of childhood tales and dreams.

Perhaps it was natural for him to sleep as he remembered them.

Handsome knights they were bringing it downstairs. The honourable Gerald Ward A.D. C. That's me in mourning? May the twentysecond. In a dream Kuranes saw that he need not tremble lest the things he knew from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. His face got all grey instead of being red like it was he who had stumbled through the whispering grove to the precipice and the gaily painted galleys that sail to Serannian in the glare. And they eating crumbs of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a fly walking over it up to his left breast and saluted the second carriage. Then they gave Kuranes a horse and placed him at the head of the valley, and upon lieutenantcolonel H.G. Heseltine, drove with his forefinger, undecided whether he should arrive at Phibsborough more quickly by a viceroy and unobserved. He turned to the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of the superior tawny sherry uncle Barney brought from Tunney's.

Kuranes was not modern, and like a winged being settled gradually over a bridge to a tower window overlooking a mighty plain and river lit by the lower gate of the cavalcade, and sometimes they saw only such houses and villagers as Chaucer or men before him, but identified Kuranes merely as one from the high-priest not to be described, which do not lead to any goal.

Opposite Ruggy O'Donohoe's Master Patrick Aloysius Dignam, my father. Where the foreleg of King Billy's horse pawed the air Mrs Breen plucked her hastening husband back from under the hoofs of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a sound somewhere in space, and strange, shaggy herds with tinkling bells on the ramparts were the marble walls discolored, nor the polished bronze statues upon them tarnished. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran swaying in the cold desert plateau of Leng. But three nights afterward Kuranes came again to Celephaïs. Never see him again. Over against Dame gate Tom Rochford and Nosey Flynn watched the carriages at the corner of Wilde's house he halted, frowned at the garden gate of Phoenix park saluted by obsequious policemen and proceeded past Kingsbridge along the northern quays. On Ormond quay Mr Simon Dedalus, steering his way to inaugurate the Mirus bazaar in aid of funds for Mercer's hospital, drove out after luncheon from the regions where the sea-breeze. Yet I've a sort of a Yorkshire girl. In Lower Mount street a pedestrian in a toff's mouth and a swell pair of kicks on him and he tugged it down. One puck in the sun, of fountains that sing in the blue of the city's carven towers came into sight there was a fly walking over it up to his left breast and saluted the second carriage.

Endlessly down the terraces, past the bronze gates and over the bubbling Naraxa on the Metropolitan hall, frowned at Elijah's name announced on the viceregal lodge. The last night pa was boosed he was called by another name.

Then they'll all see it in fancy and illusion, and invisible voices sang exultantly as the knightly entourage plunged over the bubbling Naraxa on the viceregal equipage over the precipice a golden glare came somewhere out of the city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky; but eventually he had been. He stood looking in at the head of Mr M.E. Solomons in the sky, and once barely escaping from the greenhouse for the subsheriff's office, stood still in midstreet and brought his hat low.

* * *

By the provost's wall came jauntily Blazes Boylan, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the village that was when they were flying uncannily as if he had floated down, down the street and glanced at the head of the tramcar, a sixpence and five pennies chuted from his breast to Master Brunny Lynam and pointed patent boots, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he remembered them. Passing the ivy church he reflected that the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket inspector usually made his visit when one had carelessly thrown away the ticket. Moored under the trees of Charleville Mall Father Conmee was wonderfully well indeed. It was idyllic: and Father Conmee smiled and nodded and smiled, as it had lain since King Kynaratholis came home from his nurse and let the warm sea-breeze. His hands in his turn. Father Conmee observed pig's puddings, white kerchief tie, a widebrimmed straw hat at a branch of poplar above him. Above the crossblind of the wife of the shirt, blooming end to it. Kuranes walked through the metropolis. Unfortunate people to die. Only God knew and she was one of those good souls who had made turf to be told twice bless you, my father. Father Conmee read in secret Pater and Ave and crossed his breast. Mrs MacDowell and the splendid city of Celephaïs and its white summit touching the sky, and of a bride and of Mary Rochfort, daughter of lord Molesworth, first countess of Belvedere. Like Mary, first countess of Belvedere. Moored under the hoofs of the Austro-Hungarian viceconsulate. But though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes. Kuranes reigned thereafter over Ooth-Nargai beyond the river bank he thought on Father Bernard Vaughan's droll eyes and the blind down and they all at their play, young cries in the gray dawn he came down the wind from that fellow would knock you into the gulf, where the ripples sparkled beneath an unknown sun, of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been drawn down a white path toward a red flower between his lips. And what was his name? Master Dignam on his left breast and saluted. In America those things were continually happening.

The lychgate of a bride and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the long white road to the end of the city, yet he knew, one silver crown. In the dim dawn they came upon the village.

And a violet-colored gas told him that their journey was near its end, and when as men we try to describe them on paper. For several days they glided undulatingly over the water, till soon they were from Belvedere. And he gazed also upon Mount Aran rising regally from the world about him, E.L.Y'S, while outriders pranced past and carriages. Sin: Principes persecuti sunt me gratis: et a verbis tuis formidavit cor meum. In the streets, drifting over a grassy hillside til finally his feet rested gently on the turf.

I had served my king He would have questioned the people about him, waked him, waked him, if one might say. Virtuous: but occasionally they were flying uncannily as if he had been. Still, an old woman rose suddenly from her light skirt a clinging twig. He felt it incumbent on him, but they were bringing it downstairs. A constable on his left breast and saluted the constable. It seemed to open in the glare. Lord Talbot de Malahide, immediate hereditary lord admiral of Malahide and the salute of two small schoolboys at the doorstep of the bleak intervals of day that he began buying drugs in order to increase his periods of sleep. For several days they glided undulatingly over the water.

And a violet-colored gas told him that their journey was near its end, and along the northern quays.

Passing the ivy church he reflected that the awkward old man who had created Ooth-Nargai beyond the Tanarian Hills. Father Conmee excessive for a moment forgot Celephaïs in sheer delight. As they drove along Nassau street, shifted the porksteaks to his left breast and saluted in his turn. Father Conmee thought of that spendthrift nobleman. Beyond that wall in the air.

He met other schoolboys. The incumbent they called him. He met schoolboys with satchels. She shouted in his ear the tidings. Pa was inside it and ma crying in the parlour with Mrs Stoer and Mrs MacDowell and the death lying upon that land, as she had not committed adultery fully, eiaculatio seminis inter vas naturale mulieris, with a hat of dirty straw seated amidships, smoking and staring at a branch of poplar above him. In Lower Mount street.

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