Chest Cee! 'Sdense! Corpo di baraggio! You spoof of visibility in a freakfog, of mixed sex cases among goats, hill cat and plain mousey, Bigamy Bob and his old Shanvocht! The Blackfriars treacle plaster outrage be liddled! Therewith was released in that kingsrick of Humidia a poisoning volume of cloud barrage indeed! Yet all they who heard or redelivered are now with that family of bards
and Vergobretas himself and the crowd of Caraculacticors as much no more as be they not yet now or had they then notever been. Canbe in some future we shall presently here amid those zouave players of Inkermann the mime mumming the mick and his nick miming their maggies, Hilton St Just (Mr Frank Smith), Ivanne Ste Austelle (Mr J. F. Jones), Coleman of Lucan taking four parts, a choir of the
O'Daley O'Doyles doublesixing the chorus in Fenn MacCall and the Serven Feeries of Loch Neach, Galloper Tropples and Hurleyquinn, and the zitherer of the past with his merrymen all, zimzim zimzim. Of the persins sin this Eyrawyggla saga (which, thorough readable to int from and, is from tubb to buttom all falsetissues, antilibellous and nonactionable and this applies
to its whole wholume) poor Osti-Fosti, described as quite a musical genius in a small way and the owner of an exceedingly niced ear, with tenorist voice to match, not alone, but a very major poet of the poorly meritary order (he began Tuonisonian but worked his passage up as far as the we-all-hang-together Animandovites), no one end is known. If they
whistled him before he had curtains up they are whistling him still after his curtain's doom's doom. Ei fù. His husband, poor old A'Hara (Okaroff?), crestfallen by things and down at heels at the time, they squeak, accepted the (Zassnoch!) ardree's shilling at the conclusion of the Crimean War and, having flown his wild geese, alohned in crowds to warnder on like Shuley Luney, enlisted in Tyrone's horse, the Irish whites, and soldiered a bit with Wolsey under the assumed name of Blanco Fusilovna Bucklovitch (spurious) after which the cawer and the marble halls of Pump Court Columbarium, the home of
the old seakings, looked upon each other and queth their haven evermore for it transpires that on the other side of the water it came about that on the field of Vasileff's Cornix inauspiciously with his unit he perished, saying, This papal leafless to old chap give, rawl chawclates for mouther-in-louth. Booil. Poor old dear Paul Horan, to satisfy his literary as well as his criminal aspirations, at the suggestion thrown out by the doomster in loquacity, so says the Dublin Intelligence, was thrown into a Ridley's for inmates in the northern counties. Under the name of Orani he may have been the utility man of the troupe capable of sustaining long parts at short notice. He was. Sordid Sam, a dour decent deblaneer, haunted always by his ham, at a word from Israfel the Summoner passed away painlessly after life's upsomdowns one hallowe'en night, ebbrous and in the state of nature, propelled from the unwashed Behind into the unwished Beyond by footblows coulinclouted upon his oyster and atlas on behanged and behooved and behicked and behulked of his last fishandblood bedscrappers, a Northwegian and his mate of the sheawolving class. Though the last straw glimt his baring this stage thunkhard is said (the pitfallen gagged him as “Promptboxer”) to have solemenly said — as had the brief thot but fell in till his head like a bass dropt neck fust in till a bung crate (cogged!): Me drames, O Loughlins, has come through! Now let the centuple celves of my egourge, as Micholas de Cusack calls them, and of all of whose I in my hereinafter of course by recourse demission me, by the coincidance of their contraries reamalgamerge in that identity
of undiscernibles where the Baxters and the Fleshmans may they cease to bidivil uns and (but at this poingt though the iron thrust of his cockspurt start might have prepared us we are wellnigh stinkpotthered by the mustardpunge in the tailend) this outandin brown candlestock melt Nolan's into peese! Han var. Disliker as he was to druriodrama, her wife Langley, the prophet, and the decentest dozendest short of a frusker whoever stuck his spickle through his spoke, disappeared (in which toodooing he has taken all the French leaves unveilable out of Calomnequiller's Pravities) from the sourface of this earth, that austral plain he had transmaried himself to, so entirely spoorlessly (the mother of the book with a dustwhisk tabularasing his obliterature done upon her involucrum) as to tickle the speculative to all but opine (since the Levey who might have been Langley may have really been a redivivus of paganinism or a volunteer Vousden) that the hobo (who possessed a large amount of the humoresque) had transtuled his funster's habitat to its finsterest interrimost. Bhi she. Again, if Father Dan Browne, tea and toaster to that quaintestest of yarnspinners, is Padre Don Bruno, treu and troster to the queen of Iar-Spain, was the reverend, the sodality director, that eupeptic viceflayer, a
barefaced carmelite, to whose palpitating pulpit (which of us but remembers the rarevalent and hornerable Fratomistor Nawlanmore and Brawne?) sinning society sirens (see the — Roman Catholic — presspassim) fortunately became so enthusiastically attached and was an objectionable ass who very occasionally cockaded a raffles ticket on his hat which he wore all to one side like the hangle of his pan (if Her Elegance saw him she'd have the canary!) and was semiprivately convicted of malpractices with his hotwashed tableknife (glossing over the cark in his pocket) that same snob of the dunhill, fully several yearschaums riper, encountered by the General on that redletter morning or maynoon jovesday? Were they? Fuitfuit.
When Phishlin Phil wants throws his lip 'tis pholly to be fortuneflouting and whoever's gone to Mix Hotel by the salt say water there's nix to nothing we can do for he's never again to sea. It is nebuless an autodidact fact of the most commonfaced experience that the shape of
the average human cloudyphiz, whereas sallow has long daze faded, frequently altered its ego with the possing of the showers. (Not original!) Whence it is a slipperish matter, given the wet and low visibility (since in this scherzarade of one's thousand one nightinesses that sword of certainty which would indentifide the body never falls), to idendifine the individuone in scratch wig, squarecuts, stock, lavaleer, regattable oxeter, baggy pants and shufflers (he is often alluded to as Slypatrick, the llad in the llane) with already an incipience (lust!) in the direction of area baldness (one is continually firstmeeting with odd sorts of others at all sorts of ages!) who was asked by free boardschool shirkers in drenched coats overawall, Will, Conn and Otto, to tell them overagait, Vol, Pov and Dev, that fishabed ghoatstory of the haardly creditable edventyres of the Haberdasher, the two Curchies and the three Enkelchums in their Bearskin ghoats! Girles and jongers, but he has changed alok syne Thorkill's time! Ya, da, tra, gathery, pimp, shesses, shossafat, okodeboko, nine! Those many warts, those slummy patches, halfsinster wrinkles (what has come over the face on wholebroader x?) and (shrine of Mount Mu save us!) the large fungopark he has grown! Drink!
Sport's a common thing. It was the Lord's own day for damp (to wait for a postponed regatta's eventualising is not of Battlecock Shettledore-Juxta-Mare only) and the request for a fully armed explanation was put (in Loo of Pat) to the porty (a native of the sisterisle — Meathman or Meccan? — by his brogue, ex-race eyes, lokil calour and lucal odour which are said to
have been average clownturkish — though the capelist's voiced nasal liquids and the way he sneezed at zees haul us back to the craogs and bryns of the Silurian Ordovices — who, the lesser pilgrimage accomplished, had made pats' and pigs' older inselt, the southeast bluffs of the stranger
stepshore, a regifugium persecutorum, hence hindquarters) as he paused at evenchime for some or so minutes (Hit the pipe, dannyboy! Time to won, barmon. I'll take ten to win.) amid the devil's one duldrum (Apples by her blossom window and Charlottes at her tosspanomancy his sole admirers, his only tearts in store) for a fragrend calabash during his weekend
pastime of executing with Anny Oakley deadliness (the consummatory pairs of provocatives, of which remained provokingly but two, the ones he fell for, Lili and Tutu, cork em!) empties which had not very long before contained Reid's family (you ruad that before, soaky, but all the bottles in soddemd histry will not soften your bloodathirst!) stout. Having reprimed his repeater and resiteroomed his timespiece His Revenance, with still a life or two to spare for the space of his occupancy of a world at a time, rose to his feet and there, far from Tolkaheim, in a quiet English garden (commonplace!), since known as Whiddington Wild, where the joyshots rang no more his simple intensive curolent vocality, my dearbraithers, my most dearbrathairs, as he, so is a supper as is a sipper, spake of the One and told of the Compassionate, called up before the triad of precoxious scaremakers (scoretaking: Spegulo ne helpas al malbellulo, Mi kredas ke vi estas prava, Via dote la vizago rispondas fraulino) the now to ushere mythical habiliments of Our Farfar and Arthor of our doyne.
Television kills telephony in brothers' broil. Our eyes demand their turn. Let there be seen! And wolfbone balefires blaze the trailmost if only that Mary Nothing may burst her bibby buckshee. When they set fire then she's got to glow so we may stand some chances of warming to what every soorkabatcha, tum or hum, would like to know. The first Humphrey's latitudinous baver with
puggaree behind (calaboose belong bigboss belong Kang the Toll), his fourinhand bow, his elbaroom surtout, the refaced unmansionables of gingerine hue, the vertebrated slate umbrella, his gruff woolselywellesly with the finndrinny knopfs and the gauntlet upon the hand which in an hour not for him solely evil had struck down the mighthe mighthavebeen D'Esterre of whom his nation seemed almost
already to be about to have need. Then, stealing his thunder, but in the befitting legomena of the smaller country (probable words, possibly said, of field family gleaning), a bit duskish and flavoured with a smile, seein as ow his thoughts consisted chiefly of the cheerio, he aptly sketched for our soontobe second parents (sukand see whybe!) the touching seene. The solence of that stilling! Here
a fin fell. Boomster rombombonant! It scenes like a landescape from Wildu Picturescu or some seem om some dimb Arras, dumb as Mum's mutyness, this mimage of the seventyseventh kusin of Kristansen is odable to
os across the wineless Ere no oedor nor mere eerie nor liss potent of suggestion than in the tales of the tingmount. (Prigged!)
And there oftafter, jauntyjogging, on an Irish visavis, insteadily with shoulder to shoulder Jehu will tell to Christianier, saint to sage, the humphriad of that fall and rise while daisy winks at her pinker sister among the tussocks and the copoll between the shafts mocks the couple on the car. And as your who may look like how on the owther side of his big belt try your tyrs and cloes your noes and paradigm maymay rererise in eren. Follow we up his whip vindicative. Thurston's! Lo bebold! La arboro, lo petrusu. The augustan peacebetothem oaks, the monolith rising stark from the moonlit pinebarren in all fortitudinous ajaxious rowdinoisy tenuacity, the angelus hour with ditchers bent upon their farm usetensiles, the soft belling of the fallow deers (doerehmoose genuane!) advertising their milky approach as midnight was striking the hours (letate!), and how brightly the great tribune outed the sharkskin smokewallet (imitation!) from his frock, kippers, and, by Joshua, he tips un a topping swank cheroot, none of your swellish soide, quoit the reverse, and how manfally he says, pluk to pluk and lekan for lukan, he was to just pluggy well suck that brown boyo, my son, and spend a whole half hour in Havana. Sorer of the kreeksmen, would not thore be old high gothsprogue? Wherefore he met Master, he mean to say, he do, sire, bester of redpublicans, at Eagle Cock Hostel on Lorenzo Tooley Street and how he wished his Honour the bannocks of Gort and Morya and Bri Head and Puddyrick, yore Loudship, and a starchbox sitting in the pit of his St Tomach's — a strange wish for you, my friend, and it would poleaxe your sonson's grandson utterly though your own old sweatandswear floruerunts heaved it hoch many as the times when they were turrified be the hitz.
Chee chee cheers for Upkingbilly and crow cru cramwells
Downaboo! Hup, boys, and hat him! See! Oilbeam they're lost we've found rerembrandtsers: their hours to date link these heirs to morra but wowhere are those yours of Yesthersdays? Farseeingetherich and Poolaulwoman, Charachthercuss and his Ann van Vogt. D.e.e.d? Edned, ended or sleeping soundlessly? Favour with your tongues! Intendite!
Any dog's life you list you may still hear them at it, like sixes and seventies, as eversure as Halley's comet, ulemamen, sobranjewomen, storthingboys and dumagirls, as they pass its bleak and bronze portal of your Casaconcordia: Huru more Nee, minny frickans? Hwoorledes har Dee det? Losdoor onleft, mladies, cue! Millecientotrigintadue scudi! Tippoty, kyrie, tippoty! Cha kai rotty
kai makkar, sahib? Despenseme Usted, senhor, en son succo, sabez! O thaw bron orm, A'Cothraige, thinkinthou gaily?
Lick-Pa-flai-hai-pa-Pa-li-si-lang-lang! Epi alo, écou, Batiste, tuvavnr dans lptit boing coing! Ismene de bumbac e meias de portocalliu! O! O! Os pipos mios es demasiada gruarso por O piccolo pocchino! Wee fee? Ung duro! Kocshis, szabad? Mercy, and you? Gomagh, thak!
And, Cod, says he with mugger's ears in his eyes (Would you care to know the prise of a liard? Maggis, nick your nightynovel! Mass Taverner's at the mike again! And that bagbelly is the buck to goat it!): Meggeg, m'gay chapjappy, I call our univalse to witness, as sicker as moyliffey eggs is known by our good househalters from yorehunderts of mamooth to be which they
commercially are in ahoy high British quarters (conventional!) my guesthouse and cowhaendel credits will immediately stand ohoh open as straight as that neighbouring monument's fabrication before the hygienic gllll (this was where the reverent sabboth and bottlebreaker with firbalk forthstretched touched upon his tricoloured boater which he uplifted by its pickledhoopy (he gave Stetson one
and a penny for it) whileas oleaginosity of ancestralolosis sgocciolated down the both pendencies of his mutsohito liptails (Sencapetulo, a more modestuous conciliabulite never curled a torn pocketmouth), cordially inwitin the adullescence who he was wising up to do in like manner what all did
so as he was able to add) lobe before the Great Schoolmaster's. (I tell you no story.) Smile!
The house of Atreox is fallen indeedust (Ilyam, Ilyum! Maeromor Mournomates!), averging on blight like the mundinbanks of Fennyana, but deeds bounds going arise again. Life, he himself said once (his biografiend, in fact, kills him verysoon, if yet not, after), is a wake, livit or krikit, and on the bunk of our breadwinning lies the cropse of our seedfather — a phrase which the
establisher of the world by law might pretinately write across the chestfront of all manorwombanborn. The scene, refreshed, reroused, was never to be forgotten, the hen and crusader ever intermutuomergent, for later in the century one of that puisne band of factferreters (then an excivil (out of the custom huts) (retired), (hurt), (under the sixtyfives act) in a dressy black modern style and
wewere shiny tan burlingtons, tam, homd and dicky, quopriquos and peajagd) rehearsed it, pippa pointing, with a dignified bow (copied!) to a namecousin of the late archdeacon F. X. Preserved Coppinger (a hot fellow in his night, may the mouther of guard have mastic on him!) in a pullwoman of our first transhibernian overground with one still sadder circumstance which is a dirkanddurk heartskewerer
if ever to bring bounceye brimmers from marbled eyes. Cycloptically through the windowdisks and with eddying awes the round eyes of the rundeisers, back to back, buck to bucker, on their airish chaunting car, beheld with intouristing anterestedness the clad pursue the bare, the bare the green, the
green the frore, the frore the cladagain, as their convoy wheeled encirculingly abound the gigantig's lifetree, our fireleaved loverlucky blomsterbohm, phoenix in our woodlessness, haughty, cacuminal, erubescent (repetition!), whose roots they be asches with lustres of peins. For as often as the Archicadenus, pleacing aside his Irish Field and craving their auriculars to receptacle particulars before they got the bump at Castlebar (mat and far!), spoke of it by request, all, hearing in this new reading of the part, whereby, because of Dyas in his machina, the new garrickson's grimacing grimaldism hypostasised by substintuation the axiomatic orerotundity of that once grand old elrington
bawl, the copycus's description of that fellowcommuter's play upon countenants, could simply imagine themselves, in their bosom's inmost core, as pro tem locum timesported acorss the yawning (abyss), as once they were, seasiders listening to the cockshyshooter's evensong evocation of the doomed but always ventriloquent Agitator (no not more plangorpound the billows o'er Thounawahallya Reef!), silkhouatted, a whalrhosmightiadd, aginsst the dusk of skumring (would that fane be Saint Muezzin's calling — holy places! — and this fez brimless as brow of faithful, toucher of the ground, did wish it were — blessed be the bones! — the ghazi, power of his sword!), his manslayer's gunwielder protended towards that overgrown leadpencil which was soon, monomentally at least, to rise as Molyvdokondylon to, to be, to be his mausoleum (O'dan stod til steyne at meisies aye skould show pon), while ollover his exculpatory features, as Roland rung, a wee dropeen of grief about to sillonise his jouejous, the ghost of resignation diffused a spectral appealingness, as a young man's drowm o'er the fate of his waters may gloat, similar in origin and akkurat in effect to a beam of sunshine upon a coffinplate.
Not olderwise Inn the days of the Bygning would our Traveller, remote, unfriended, from van Demon's Land, some lazy skald or maundering pote, lift wearywilly his slowcut snobsic eyes to the semisigns of his zooteac and, lengthily lingering along flaskneck, cracketcup, downtrodden brogue, turfsod, wildbroom, cabbageblad, stockfisch, longingly learn that there at the Angel were herberged for him poteen and tea and praties and baccy and wine width woman wordth warbling: and informally quasibegin to presquesm'ile to queasithin' … (Nonsense! There was not very much windy Nous blowing at the given moment through the hat of Mr Melancholy Slow!)
But in the pragma and by laws of casuality what formal cause made a smile of that tothink? Who, under ye great bow of 's heaven, was he to whom? O'Breen's not his name nor the brown one his maid. Whose in thunder and weddin and soddin and order are the placewheres? Kiswasti, kisker, kither, kitnabudja? Tal the tem of the tumulum. Giv the gav of the grube.
Be it cudgelplayers' country or fishfellows' town or leeklickers' land or paubpanungopovengreskey. What regnans
raised the rains have levelled but we hear the pointers and can gauge their compass for the melos yields the mode and the mode the manners, plicyman, plausiman, plousiman, plab. Tsin tsin tsin tsin! The forefarther folkers for a prize of two peaches with Ming, Ching and Shunny on the lie low lea. We'll sit down on the hope of the ghouly ghost for the titheman troubleth but his hantitat hies not here. They answer from their zoans. Hear the four of them! Hark, torroar of them! I, says Armagh, and a'm proud o' it. I, says Clonakilty, God help us! I, says Deansgrange, and say nothing. I, says Barna, and what about it? Hee haw! Before he fell hill he filled heaven: a sdream, alplapping streamlet, coyly coiled um, cool of her curls. We were but thermites then, wee, wee. Our antheap we sensed as an Hill of Allen, the Barrow for an People, one Jotnursfjaell: and it was a grummelung amung the porktroop that wonderstruck us as thunder yunder.
Thus the unfacts, did we possess them, are too imprecisely few to warrant our certitude, the evidencegivers by legpoll too untrustworthily irreperible where his adjudgers are seemingly freak threes but his judicandees plainly minus twos. Nevertheless Madam's Toshowus waxes largely more lifeliked (entrance, one kudos; exits, free) and our notional gullery is now completely complacent, an exegious monument, aerily perennious. Oblige with your blackthorns; gamps, degrace! And there many have paused before that exposure of him by old Tom Quad, a flashback in which he sits sated, gowndabout, in clericalease habit, watching bland Sol slithe dodgsomely into the nethermore, a globule of maugdleness about to corrugitate his mild dewed cheek and the tata of a tiny victorienne, Alys, pressed by his limper looser.
Yet certes one is. Eher the following winter had overed the pages of nature's book and till Ceadurbar-atta-Cleath became Dablena Tertia, the shadow of the huge outlander, maladik, multvult, magnoperous, had bulked at the bar of a rota of tribunals, in manor hall as in thieves' kitchen, mid pillow talk and
|12chit house chithouse12| chat, on Marlborough Green as through Molesworth Fields, here sentenced pro tried with Jedburgh justice, there acquitted con testimony
with benefit of clergy.
His Thing Mod have undone him: and his madthing has done him man. His beneficiaries are legion: they number up his years. Greatwheel Dunlop was the name was on him in the part he created: behung, all we are his bisaacles. As hollyday in his house so was he priest and king to that: ulvy came, envy saw, ivy conquered. Lou! lou! They have waved his green boughs o'er him as they have torn him
limb from lamb. For his muertification and uxpiration and dumnation and annuhulation.
With schreis and grida, deprofound souspirs. Steady, sullivans! Mannequins, pause! Longtong's breach is fallen down but Graunya's spreed's abroad. Ahdostay, feedailyones, and feel the Flucher's bawls! For the total of your flout is not fit to fan his fettle, O! Have a ring and sing wohl! Chin, chin! Chin, chin! And of chorus all chimed din width the eatmost boviality. Swiping rums and beaunes and sherries and ciders and negus and citronnades too. The strongers: Oho, oho, Mester Begge, you're about to be bagged in the bog again. Bugge. But softsies seufsighed: Eheu, for gassies! But, lo! lo! by the threnning gods, human, erring and condonable, what the statues of our kuo, who is the messchef be our kuang, ashu ashure there, the unforgettable treeshade looms up behind the jostling judgments of those, as all should owe, malrecapturable days.
Tap and pat and tapatagain (fire firstshot, Missiers the Refuseleers! Peingpeong! For saxonlootie!), three tommix, soldiers free, cockaleak and cappapee, of the Coldstream Guards were walking in (pardonnez-leur, je vous en prie, eh?) Montgomery Street. One voiced an opinion in which on either side (pardonnez!), nodding, all the Finner Camps concurred (je vous en prie,
eh?). It was the first woman, they said, souped him that fatal wellesday, Lili Coninghams, by suggesting him they go in a field. Wroth mod eldfar, ruth redd stillstand, wrath wrackt wroth, confessed private Pat Marchison retro. (Terse!) Thus contenters with santoys play. One of our coming Vauxhall ontheboards who is resting for the moment (she has been callit by a noted stagey
elecutioner a wastepacket Sittons) was interfeud in a waistend pewty parlour. Looking perhaps even more pewtyflushed in her cherryderry
padouasoys, girdle and braces by the Halfmoon and Seven Stars, russets from the Blackamoor's Head, amongst the climbing boys at his Eagle and Child and over the corn and hay emptors at their Black and All Black, Mrs F— A— saidaside, half in stage of whisper to her confidante glass, while recoopering her cartwheel chapot (ahat! we now know what thimbles a'baquets on lallance o'talls mean), she hoped Sid Arthar would git a Chrissman's portrout of orange and lemonsized orchids with holleggs and ether, from the feeatre of the Innocident, as the worryld had been uncained. Then, while it is odrous comparisoning to the sprangflowers of his burstday which was a viridable goddinpotty for the reinworms and the charlattinas and all branches of climatitis, it has been such a wanderful noyth untirely, added she, with many regards to Maha's pranjapansies. (Tart!) Prehistoric, obitered to his dictaphone an entychologist, his propenomen is a properismenon. A dustman nocknamed Sevenchurches in the employ of Messrs Ashburn, Soulpetre and Ashreborn, prairmakers, Glintalook, was asked by the sisterhood the vexed question during his middag collation of leaver and
buckrom alternatively with stenk and kitteney phie in a hashhoush and, thankeaven, responsed impulsively: We have just been propogandering his nullity suit and what they took out of his ear among my own crush. All our fellows at O'Dea's sages with Aratar Calaman he is a cemented brick, buck it all! A more nor usually sober cardriver, who was jauntingly hosing his runabout, Ginger Jane, took a strong view. Lorry hosed her as he talked and this is what he told rewritemen: Irewaker is just a plain pink joint reformee in private life but folks all have it by brehemons laws he has parliamentary honours. Eiskaffier said (Louigi's, you know that man's, brillant savourain): Mon foie, you wish to ave some homelette, yes, lady? Good, mein leber! Your hegg he must break himself. See, I crack, so, he sit in the poele, umbedimbt! A perspirer (over sixty) who was keeping up his tennises panted he kne ho har twa to clect infamatios but a diffpair flannels climb wall and trespassing on doorbell. After fullblown Braddon hear this fresky troterella! A railways barmaid's view (they call her
Spilltears Rue) was thus expressed to sympathisers of the Dole Line, Death Avenue, anent those objects of her pityprompted ministrance, to wet, man and his syphon: Ehim! It is ever too late to whissle when Phyllis floods her stable. It would be skarlot shame to jailahim in lockup, as was proposed to him by the Seddoms creature, what matter what merrytricks went off with his revulverher in connections with ehim being a norphan and enjoining such wicked illth, ehim! Well done, Drumcollakill, Kitty Tyrrel is proud of you! was the reply of a B.O.T. official (O blame not the board!) while the Daughters Benkletter murmured in uniswoon: Golforgilhisjurylegs! Brian Lynskey, the cub curser, was questioned at his shouting box, Bawlonabraggat, and gave a snappy comeback, when saying: Paw! Once more I'll hellhowl! I am for caveman chase and sahara sex, burk you! Them two bitches ought to be leashed, canem! Up hog and hoar hunt! Paw! A wouldbe martyr (who is attending on Saint Asitas where he is being taught to wear bracelets), when grilled on the point, revealed the undoubted fact that the consequence would be that so long as Sankya Moondy played his mango tricks under the mystletry, with shady apsaras sheltering in his leaves' licence and his shadowers torrifried by the potent bolts of indradiction, there would be fights all over Cuxhaven. (Tosh!) Missioner Ida Wombwell, the seventeenyearold revivalist, said concerning the coincident of interfizzing with grenadines and other respectable and disgusted peersons using the park: That perpendicular person is a brut! But a mignificent brut! “Caligula” (Mr Danl Magrath, bookmaker, wellknown to Eastrailian poorusers of the Sydney Parade Ballotin) was, as usual, antipodal with his: Striving todie, hopening tomellow. Ware Splash. Cobbler. We have meat two hourly, sang out El Caplan Buycoat, with the famous padre's
turridur's capecast, meet too ourly, matadear! Dan Meiklejohn, precentor, of S.S. Smack and Olley's was probiverbal with his upsiduxit: Mutatus mutandus. Dauran's lord (“Sniffpox”) and Moirgan's lady (“Flatterfun”) took sides and crossed and bowed to each other's views and recrossed themselves. The dirty dubs upin their flies, went too free, echoed the dainty drabs downin their
scenities, una mona. Sylvia Silence, the girl detective (Meminerva, but by now one hears turtlings all over Doveland!), when supplied with informations as to the several facets of the case in her cozydozy bachelure's flat, quite o'erlooking John a'Dream's mews, leaned back in her really truly easychair to query restfully through her vowelthreaded syllabelles: Have you evew thought, wepowtew, that sheew gweatness was his twagedy? Nevewtheless accowding to my considewed attitudes fow this act he should pay the full penalty, pending puwsuance, as pew Subsec. 32, Section 11, of the C.L.A. Act 1885, anything in this Act to the contwawy notwithstanding. Jarley Jilke began to silke for he couldn't get home to Jelsey but ended with: He's got the sack that helped him moult instench of his gladsome rags. Meagher, a naval rating, seated on one of the granite cromlech setts of our new fishshambles for the usual aireating after the ever popular act, with whom were Questa and Puella, piquante and quoite (this had a cold in her brain while that felt a sink in her summock, wit's wat, wot's wet), was encouraged, although nearvanashed himself, by one of his |12co affianced co-affianced12| to get your breath, Walt, and gobbit, and, when then chidden by her fastra sastra to saddle up your pance, Naville, thus co-replied to her other's thankskissing: I lay my two fingerbuttons, fiansee Meagher (he speaks!), he was to blame about your two velvetthighs up Horniman's Hill — as hook and eye blame him or any other piscman? — but I also think, Puellywally, by the siege of his trousers there was someone else behind it — you bet your boughtem blarneys! — about their three drummers down Keysars Lane. (Trite!)
Be these meer marchant taylors' fablings of a race referend with oddman rex? Is now all seenheard then forgotten? Can it was, one is fain in this leaden age of letters now to wit, that so diversified outrages (they have still to come!) were planned and partly carried out against so staunch a covenanter if it be true that any of those recorded ever took place for many, we trow, beyessed to
and denayed of, are given to us by some who use the truth but sparingly and we on this side ought to sorrow for their pricking pens on that account? The seventh city, Urovivla,
his citadear of refuge, whither (would we believe the laimen and their counts), beyond the outbraved gales of Atreeatic, changing clues with a baggermalster, the hejirite had fled, silentiousissuemeant under night's altosonority, shipalone, a raven of the
wave (be mercy, Mara! A he whence Rahoulas!), from the ostmen's dirtby on the old vic, to forget in expiating manslaughter and, reberthing in remarriment out of dead seekness to devine previdence (if you are looking for the bilder deep your ear on the movietone!), to league his pagan lot, palm and patte, with a papishee (for mine qvinne I thee giftake and bind my hosenband I thee haltar), the wastobe land, a lottuce land, a luctuous land, Emeraldillium, the peasant pastured, in which by the fourth commandment with promise his days apostolic were to be long by the abundant mercy of Him Which Thundereth From On High, murmured, would rise against him with all which in them were, franchisables and inhabitands, astea as agora, helotsphilots, do him hurt, poor jink, ghostly following bodily, as were he made a curse for them, the corruptible lay quick, all saints of incorruption of an holy nation, the common or ere-in-garden castaway, in red resurrection to condemn so they might convince him, first pharoah, Humpheres Cheops Exarchas, of their proper sins. Businessbred to speak with a stiff upper lip to all men and most occasions, the Man we wot of took little short of fighting chances but for all that he or his or his care were subjected to the horrors of the premier terror of Errorland. (Perorhaps!)
We seem to us (the real Us!) to be reading our Amenti in the sixth sealed chapter of the going forth by black. It was after the show at Wednesbury that one tall man, humping a suspicious parcel, when returning late amid a dense particular on his home way from the second house of the Boore and Burgess Christy Menestrels by the old spot, Roy's Corner, had a barkiss revolver placed to his
faced with the words you're shot, major! by an unknowable assailant (masked) against whom he had been jealous over Lotta Crabtree or Pomona Evlyn. More than that, Whenn the Waylayer (not a Lucalizod diocesan or even of the Glendalough see but hailing fro' the prow of Little Britain), mentioning
in a bytheway that he, the crawsopper, had, in edition to Reade's cutless centiblade, a loaded Hobson's which left only twin alternatives as, viceversa, either he would surely shoot her, the aunt, by pistol (she could be okaysure of that!) or, failing of such, bash in Patch's blank face beyond recognition, pointedly asked with gaelish gall wodkar blizzard's business Thornton had with that Kane's fender, only to be answered by the aggravated assaulted that that was the snaps for him, Midweeks, to sultry well go and find out if he was showery well able.
But how transparingly nontrue, gentle writer! His feet one is not a tall man, not at all, man. No such parson! no such fender! no such lumber! no such race! Was it supposedly in connection with a girl, Myramy Huey or Colores Archer, under Flaggy Bridge (for ann there is but one liv and her newbridge is her old) or to explode his twelvechamber and force a shrievalty
entrance that the heavybuilt Abelbody in a butcherblue blouse from One Life One Suit (a men's wear store), with a most decisive bottle of single in his possession, seized after dark by the town guard at Haveyou-caught-emerod's temperance gateway, was there in the gate's way.
Fifthly, how truetoned on his first time of hearing the wretch's statement that, muttering Irish, he had had had o'gloriously a'lot too much hanguest or hoshoe fine to drink in the House of Blazes, the Parrot in Hell, the Orange Tree, the Glibt, the Sun, the Holy Lamb and, lapse not leashed, in Ramitdown's ship hotel since the morning moment he could dixtinguish a white
thread from a black till the engine of the laws declosed unto Murray and was only falling fillthefluthered up against the gatestone pier which, with the cow's bonnet a'top o'it, he parasoliloquisingly falsetook for a cattlepillar with purest peaceablest intentions. Yet how lamely hobbles the hoy of his then pseudojocax explanation how, according to his own story, he was a process
server and was merely trying to open zozimus a bottlof stoub by mortially hammering his magnum bonum (the curter the club the sorer the savage) against the bludgey gate for the boots about the swan, Maurice Behan, who hastily threw on a pair of old Sir Bunchamon's pants, stepped into his shoes, with nothing in his hald barra tinnteack, and came down with homp,
shtemp and jumphet to the tiltyard from the wastes u'sleep in his obi ohny overclothes or choker, attracted by the norse of gunplay, said he war 'prised safe in bed as he dreamed that he'd wealthes in mormon halls when wokenp by a fourth loud snore out of his land of byelo while hickstrey's mews was grazing in the moonlight by hearing hammerang on the pandywhank scale emanating from the blind pig and anything like it (oonagh! oonagh!) in the whole history of that Mullingcan Inn he never. This battering babel allover the door and sideposts, he always said, was not in the very loutest like the belzeybabble of a bottle of boose which would not rouse him out o' slumber deep but reminded him loads more of the martiallawsey marses of foreign musikants' instrumongs playing Delandy is Cartager on the ragnar rock to Dulyn or the overthrewer to the third last days of pompery, if anything. And that after this most mooningless knockturn the young reine came down desperate and the old liffopotamus herself started ploring all over the plain, as mud as she cud be, ruinating all the bouchers' schurts and the backers' wischandtugs so that, be the chandeleure of the Rejaneyjailey, they were all |12night nighº12| wasching the walters off, the weltering walters off. Whyte?
Just one moment. A pinch in time of the ideal, musketeers! Alphos, Burkos and Caramis, leave Astrelea for the astrollajerries and for the love of the saunces and the honour of keavens pike paddywhackback to
Pamintul. And roll away the reel world, the reel world, the reel world! And call all your smokeblushes, Snowwhite and Rosered, if you will have the real cream! Now for a strawberry frolic! Filons filoosh! Cherchons la flamme! Fammfamm! Fammfamm!
Come on, ordinary man, Maschinsky, Scapolopolos, Duzinascu or Other, with that large big nonobli head and that blanko berbecked fischial ekksprezzion. Your machelar's mutton leg's getting musclebound from being too pulled. Noah Beery weighed stone thousand one when Hazel was a hen. Now his fat's falling fast. Therefore, chatbags, why not yours? There are twentynine sweet reasons
why Blossomtime's the best. Elders fall for green almonds when
they're raised on bruised stone root ginger though it winters on their heads as if auctumned round their waistbands. If you'd had pains in your hairs you wouldn't look so orgibald. You'd have Colley Macaires on your lump of lead. Now listen, Mr Leer! And stow that sweatyfunnyadams simper!
Take an old geeser who calls on his skirt. Note his sleek hair, so elegant, tableau vivant. He vows her to be his own honeylamb, swears they will be papa pals, by Sam, and share good times way down west in a guaranteed happy lovenest when May moon she shines and they twit twinkle all the night, combing the comet's tail upright and shooting popguns at the stars. Creampuffs all to time! Every nice, missymackenzies! For dear old grumpapar he's gone on the razzledar, through gazing and crazing and blazing at the stars. Compree? She wants her wardrobe to hear from above by return with cash so as she can buy her Peter Robinson trousseau and cut a dash with Arty, Bert or possibly Charley Chance (who knows?) so tolloll, Mr Hunker, you're too dada for me to dance (so off she goes!) and that's how half the gels in town has got their bottom drars while grumpapar he's trying to hitch his braces on to his trars. But old grum he's not so clean dippy between sweet you and yum (not on your life, boy! not in those trousers! not by a large jugful!) for someplace on the sly, where Furphy he isn't by, old grum has his gel number two (bravevow, our Grum!) and he would like to canoodle her too some part of the time for he is downright fond of his own number one but O he's fair mashed on peaches number two so that if he could only canoodle the two, chivee chivoo, all three would feel genuinely happy, it's as simple as A.B.C., the two mixers, we mean, with their cherrybum chappy (for he is simply shamming dippy) if they all were afloat in a dreamlifeboat, hugging two by two in his zoo-doo-you-doo, tofftoff for thee, missymissy for me and how-cameyou-e'enso for Farber, in his tippy, upindown dippy, tiptoptippy canoodle, can you? Finny!
Ack, ack, ack. With which clap, trap and soddenment, three to a loaf, our mutual friends the fender and the bottle at the gate seem to be implicitly
in the same bateau, so to singen, bearing also
several of the earmarks of design, for there is in fact no use in putting a tooth in a snipery of that sort and the amount of all those sort of things which has been going on onceaday in and twiceaday out every other nachtistag among all kinds of promiscuous individuals at all ages in private homes and reeboos publikiss and alloverall and elsewhere throughout secular sequence the country over and overabroad has been particularly stupendous. To be continued. Federals' Uniteds' Transports' Unions' for Exultations of Triumphants' Ecstasies.
But resuming inquiries. Will it ever be next morning the postal unionist's (officially called carrier's, Letters Scotch, Limited) strange fate (Fierceendgiddyrex he's hight, d.e., the losel that hucks around missivemaids' gummibacks) to hand in a huge chain envelope, written in seven divers stages of ink from blanchessance to lavandaiette, every pothook and pancrook
bespaking the wisherwife, superscribed to Hyde and Cheek, Edenberry, Dubbllenn, WC, and subpencilled by yours A Laughable Party, with afterwite, S.A.G.? Will whatever will be written in lappish language with inbursts of maggyer always seem semposed, black looking white and white guarding black, in that siamixed twoatalk used twixt stern swift and jolly roger? Will it bright upon us, nightle, and
we plunging to our plight? Well, it might now, mircle, so it light. Always and ever till Cox's wife, twice Mrs Hahn, pokes her beak into the matter with Owen K. after her, to see whawa smutter after, will this kiribis pouch filled with litterish fragments lurk dormant in the paunch of that halpbrother of a herm, a pillarbox? The coffin, a triumph of the illusionist's art, at first blench
naturally taken for a handharp (it is hardwarp to tristinguish jubabe from jabule or either from tubote when all three have just been invened), had been removed from the hardware premises of Oetzmann and Nephew, a noted house of the gonemost west which in the natural course of all things continues to supply funeral requisites of every needed description. Why needed, though? Indeed needed
(wouldn't you feel like rattanfowl if you hadn't the oscar?) because the flash brides or bride in their lily boleros one games with at the Nivynubies' finery ball
and your upright grooms that always come right up with you (and by jingo when they do!), what else in this mortal world, now ours, when meet there night, mid their nackt, me there naket, made their nought, the hour strikes, would bring them rightcameback in the flesh, thumbs down, to their orses and their hashes.
To proceed. We might leave that nitrience of oxagiants to take its free of the air and just analectralyse that very chymirical combination, the gasbag where the warder works. And try to pour somour heiteroscene up the almostfere. In the bottled heliose case continuing, Long Lally Tobkids,
the special, sporting a fine breast of medals, and a conscientious scripturereader to boot in the brick and tin choorch round the corner, swore like a Norewheezian tailliur on the stand before the proper functionary that he was up against a right querrshnorrt of a mand in the butcher of the blues who, he guntinued, on last epening after delivering some carcasses, muttanchepps and meatjutes on behalf of Messrs Otto Sands and Eastman, Limericked, victuallers, went and, with his unmitigated astonissment, hickicked at the dun and doorass against all the runes and, when challenged about the pretended hick (it was kickup and down with him) on his solemn by the imputant imputed, said simply: I appop pie oath, Phillyps Captain. You did, as I sostressed before. You are deepknee in error, sir, Madam Tomkims, let me then tell you, replied with a gentlewomanly salaam MackPartland (the meatmam's family, and the oldest in the world except nick, name). And Phelps was flayful with his peeler. But his phizz fell.
Now to the obverse. From velveteens to dimities is barely a fivefinger span and hence these camelback excesses are thought to have been instigated by one or either of the causing causes of all, those rushy hollow heroines in their skirtsleeves, be she the margretta be she the posque. Oh! Oh! Because it is a horrible thing to have to say to say to day but one dilalah, Lupita Lorette, shortly
after in a fit of the unexpectednesses drank carbolic with all her dear placid life before her and paled off while the other soiled dove that's her sister-in-love, Luperca Latouche, finding
one day while dodging chores that she stripped teasily for binocular man and that her jambs were jimpjoyed to see each other, the nautchy girly soon found her fruitful hat too small for her and rapidly taking time, look, she rapidly took to necking, partying and selling her spare favours in the haymow or in lumber closets or in the greenawn ad huck (there are certain intimacies in all ladies' lavastories we just lease to imagination) or in the sweet churchyard close itself for a bit of soft coal or an array of thin trunks, serving whom in fine that same hot coney à la zingara which our own little Graunya of the chilired cheeks dished up to the greatsire of Oscar, that son of a Coole. Houri of the coast of emerald, arrah of the lacessive poghue, Aslim-all-Muslim, the resigned to her surrender, did not she, come leinster's eve, true dotter of a dearmud (her pitch was Forty Steps and his perch old Cromwell's Quarters), with so valkirry a licence as sent many a poor pucker packing to perdition, again and again, ay, and again sfidare him, tease fido, eh tease fido, eh eh tease fido, toos topples topple, stop, ye dug of a dog of a dgiaour, ye! Angealousmei! And did not he, like Arcoforty, farfar off Bisavolo, missbrand her behaveyous with iridescent huecry of down right
mean false sop lap sick dope? Tawfulsdreck! A reine of the shee, a shebeen quean, a queen of pranks. A kingly man, of royal mien, regally robed, exalted be his glory! x! So gave, so take. Now not, not now. He would just a min. Suffering trumpet! He thought he want. Whath? Hear, O hear, living of the land! Hungreb, dead era, hark! He hea, eyes ravenous on her lippling lills. He hear her voi of day gon by. He hears! Zay, zay, zay! But, by the beer of his profit, he cannot answer. Upterputty till rise and shine! Nor needs none shaft ne stele from Phenicia or Little Asia to obelise on the spout, neither pobalclock neither folkstone, nor sunkenness in Tomar's Wood to bewray how erpressgangs score off the rued. The mouth that tells not will ever attract the unthinking tongue and so long as the obseen draws theirs which hear not so long till allearth's dumbnation shall the blind lead the deaf. Tatcho, tawney yeeklings! The column of lumps leads the pattrin of the leaves behind us. If violence to life, limb and chattels, often as
not, has been the expression, direct or through an agent male, of womanhid offended (ah! ah!) has not levy of blackmail from the times the fairies were in it and fain for wilde erthe blothoms followed an impressive private reputation for whispered sins?
Now, by memory inspired, turn wheel again to the whole of the wall. Where Gyant Blyant fronts Peannlueamoore. There was once upon a wall and a hooghoog wall a was and such a wallhole did exist. Ere ore or ire in Aaarlund. Or you Dair's Hair or you Diggin Mosses or your horde of orts and oriorts to garble a garthen of Odin and the lost paladays when all the eddams ended with aves. Armen.
The doun is theirs and still to see for menags if he strikes a lousaforitch and we'll come to those baregazed shoeshines if you just shoodov a second. And let oggs be good old goggles and Isther Estarr play Yesther Asterr. In the drema of Sorestost Areas, Diseased. A stonehinged gate there was for another thing while the suroptimist had bought and enlarged that shack under fair rental of one
yearlyng sheep (prime), value of sixpence, and one small yearlyng goat (cadet), value of eightpence, to grow old and happy in (hogg it and kid him) for the reminants of his years; and when everything was got up for the purpose he put an applegate on the place by no means as some pretend a bedstead in loo thereof to keep out donkeys (the pigdirt hanging from the jags to this hour makes that clear)
and just thenabouts the iron gape, by old custom left open to prevent the cat from getting at the gout, was triplepatlockt on him on purpose by his faithful poorters to keep him inside probably and possibly enaunter he felt like sticking out his chest too far and tempting gracious providence by a stroll on the peoplade's eggday, unused as he was as yet to being freely clodded.
O, by the by, lets wee brag of praties, it ought to be always remembered in connection with what has gone before that there was a northroomer, Herr Betreffender, out for his zimmer holedigs, digging in number 32 at the Rum and Puncheon (branch of Dirty Dick's free house) in Laxlip (where the Sockeye Sammons were stopping at the time orange fasting) prior to that, a Kommerzial
(Gorbotipacco, he was wreaking like Zentral Oylrubber)
from Osterich, the U.S.E., paying (Gaul save the mark!) 11/- in the week (Gosh, these wholly romads!) and he missed a soft felt and, take this in, six quid fifteen of conscience money in the first deal of Yuly wheil he was, swishing beesnest with blessure and swobbing broguen eeriesh myth brocken dootsch, making his reporterage on Der Fall Adams for the Frankofurto Siding, a Fastland payrodicule, and, er, constated that one had on him the Lynn O'Brien, a meltoned lammswolle, disturbed and wider he might should the same zurichschicken other he would, with tosend and obertosend tonnowatters, one monkey's damages become. Now you must know, franksman, to make a heart of glass, that the game of gaze and bandstand butchery was merely a Patsy O'Strap tissue of threats and obuses such as roebucks raugh at pinnacle's peak and after this sort.
Humphrey's unsolicited ad hock visitor, Davy or Titus, on a burgley's clan march from the middle west, a hikely excellent crude man about roads who knew his Bullfoost Mountains like a starling bierd, after doing a long dance untidled to Cloudy Green, deposend his bockstump on the waityoumaywantme, after having blew some quaker's (for you, Oates!) in through the houseking's keyhole to attract attention bleated through the gale outside which the tairor of his clothes was hogcallering, first, be the hirsuiter, that he would break his bulsheywigger's head for him, next, be the heeltapper, that he would break the gage over his lankyduckling head the same way he would crack a nut with a monkeywrench and, last of all, be the stirabouter, that he would give him his (or the umperom's or anybloody else's) thickerthanwater to drink and his bleday steppebrodhar's into the bucket. He demanded more wood alcohol to pitch in with, alleging that his grandfather's was all taxis and that it was only after ten o'connell and that his isbar was a public oven for the sake of irsh irskhusky, and then, not easily discouraged, opened the wrathfloods of his atillarery and went on at a wicked rate, weathering against him in mooxed metaphores from eleven thirty to two in the afternoon without even a luncheonette interval for House, son of Clod, to come out, you jewbeggar, to be Executed. Amen.
Earwicker, that patternmind, that paradigmatic ear, receptoretentive as his of Dionysius, longsuffering,
although whitening under restraint in the sititout corner of his conservatory behind faminebuilt walls, his thermos
flask and ripidion flabel by his side and a walrus whiskerbristle for a tuskpick, compiled, while he mourned the flight of his wild guineese, a long list (now feared in part lost) to be kept on file of all the abusive names he was called (we have been compelled for the rejoicement of foinne loidies and the humours of Milltown etcetera by Josephine Brewster in the collision known as Contrastations with Inkermann and so on and so onward, lacies in loo water, flee, celestials, one clean turv): Firstnighter, Informer, Old Fruit, Yellow Whigger, Wheatears, Goldy Geit, Bogside Beauty, Yass We've Had His Badannas, York's Porker, Funnyface, At Baggotty's Bend He Bumped His Bride, Grease with the Butter, Opendoor Ospices, Cainandabler, Ireland's Eighth Wonderful Wonder, Beat My Price, Codsoilman, Moonface the Murderer, Hoary Hairy Hoax, Midnight Sunburst, Remove that Bible, Hebdromadary Publocation, Tummer the Lame the Tyrannous, Blau Clay, Tight before Teatime, Read Your Pantojoke, Acoustic Disturbance, Thinks He's Gobblasst the Good Dook of Ourguile, W.D.'s Grace, Gibbering Bayamouth of Dublin, His Farther was a Mundzucker and She Had Him in a Growler, Burnham and Bailey, Artist, Unworthy of the Homely Protestant Religion, Terry Cotter, You're Welcome to Waterfood, Signed the Ribbonmen, Lobsterpot Lardling, All for Arthur of this Town, Hooshed the Cat from the Bacon, Leatherbags Donald, The Ace and Deuce of Paupering, O'Reilly's Delights to Kiss the Man behind the Barrel, Magogagog, Swad Puddlefoot, Gouty Ghibellino, Loose Luther, Hatches Cocks' Eggs, Muddle the Plan, Luck before Wedlock, I Divorce Thee Husband, Tanner and a Make, Go to Hellena or Come to Connies, Piobald Puffpuff, Purged out of Burke's, He's None of Me Causin, Barebarean, Peculiar Person, Grunt Owl's Facktotem, Twelve Months' Aristocrat, Lycanthrope, Flunkey Beadle Vamps the Tune Letting on He's Loney, Thunder and Turf Married into Clandorf, Left Boot Sent on Approval, Cucumberer of Lord's Holy Ground, Stodge Arschmann, Awnt Yuke, Tommy Furlong's Pet Plagues, Archdukon Cabbanger, Last Past the Post, Kennealey Won't Tell Thee Off Nancy's Gown,
Scuttle to Cover, Salary Grab, Andy MacNoon in Annie's Room, Awl Out, Twitchbratschballs, Bombard Street Bester, Sublime Porter, A Ban for Le King of the Burgaans and a Bom for Ye Sur of all the Ruttledges, O'Phelim's Cutprice, And at Number Wan Wan Wan, What He Done to Castlecostello, Sleeps with Feathers and Ropes, It is Known Who Sold Horace the Rattler, Enclosed Find the Sons of Fingal, Swayed in his Falling, Wants a Wife and Forty of Them, Let Him Do the Fair, Apeegeequanee Chimmuck, Plowp Goes his Whastle, Ruin of the Small Trader, He — —, Milkinghoneybeaverbrooker, Vee was a Vindner, Sower Rapes, Armenian Atrocity, Sickfish Bellyup, Edomite, — —, Man Devoyd of the Commoner Characteristics of an Irish Nature, Bad Humborg, —, Hraabhraab, Coocoohandler, Dirt, Miching Daddy, Born Burst Feet Foremost, Woolworth's Worst, Easyattic Phallusaphist, Guilteypig's Bastard, Fast in the Barrel, Boose in
the Bed, Mister Fatmate, In Custody of the Polis, |12Bunread Boawwll's Alocutionist, Deposedº12|: but, anarchistically respectsful of the liberties of the noninvasive individual, did not respond a solitary wedgeword beyond such sedentarity, though it was as easy as kissanywhere for the passive resistant in the booth he was in to reach for the hello gripes and ring up Kimmage Outer 17.67 because, as the fundamentalist explained when at last shocked into speech, touchin his woundid feelins in the fuchsiar, the dominican mission for the sowsealist potty was on at the time and he thought the rowmish devowtion known as the howly rowsary might reeform ihm, Gonn.
That more than considerably unpleasant bullocky before he rang off, by way of final mocks for his grapes, drunkishly pegged a few glatt stones, all of a size, at the wicket in support of his words that he was not guilphy but, after he had so slungavollayed, reconnoitring through his semisubconscious the seriousness of what he might have done had he really polished off his terrible intentions
finally caused him to change the bawling and leave downg the whole grumus of brookpebbles pangpung and, having sobered up a bit, paces his groundould diablen lionndub, the flay the flegm, the floedy fleshener (purse, purse, pursyfurse, I'll splish the splume of them all!), this black backblocks boor bruskly put out
his langwedge and quite quit the paleologic scene, telling how by his selfdenying ordnance he had left Hyland on the dissenting table, after exhorting Earwicker or, in slightly modified phraseology, Messrs or Missrs Earwicker, Seir, his feminisible name of multitude, to cocoa come outside to Mockerloo out of that for the honour of Crumlin with his broody old flishguds, Gog's curse to thim, so as he could brianslog and burst him all dizzy, you go bail, like Potts Fracture did with Keddle Flatnose and nobodyatall with Wholyphamous and build rocks over him or, if he didn't, for two and thirty straws, be Cacao Campbell, he didn't know what he wouldn't do for him nor nobody else nomore nor him, after which, batell martell, a brisha a milla a stroka a boola, so the rage of Malbruk, playing on the least change of his manjester's voice the first heroic couplet from the fuguall tropical, Opus Elf, Thortytoe,
My schemes into obeyance for
This time has had to fall,
they bit goodbyte to their thumb and, his bandol eer his solgier, dripdropdrap on pool or poldier, wishing the toff a falladelfian in the morning, proceeded with a Hubbleforth slouch in their slips backwords (Et Cur Heli!) in the directions of the duff and demb institutions about ten or eleven hundred years lurch away in the cloudletlitten gorge of Patself on the Bach.
And thus, with this rochelly exetur of Bully Acre, came to close that last stage in the siegings round our archicitadel which we would like to recall, if old Nestor Alexis would wink the worth for us, as Bar-le-Duc and Dog-an-Doras and Bangen-op-Zoom.
Yed he med leave to many a door beside of Oxmanswold for so witness his chambered cairns silent that are at browse up hill and down coombe and on eolithostroton, at Howth or at Coolock or even at Enniskerry: a theory none too rectiline of the evoluation of human society as the testament of the rocks from all the dead unto some the living. Oliver's lambs we do call them, skatterlings of a
stone, and they skall be gathered unto him, their herd and paladin, as nubilettes to cumule, in that day of Greenman Rise O (lost leaders live! the heroes return!) hwen, same the lightning lancer of Azava Arthurhonoured
(some Finn, some Finn avant!), he skall wake from earthsleep in his valle of briers, haught crested elmer, and o'er dun and dale the wulverulverlord (protect us!) his mighty horn skall roll, orland, roll.
For in those deyes his Deyus shall ask of Allprohome and call to himm: Allprohome! Allprohome! And he make answer: Add some! Nor wink nor wank. Animadiabolum, mene credidisti mortuum? Silence was in thy faustive halls, O Truiga, when thy green woods went dry but there will be sounds of manymirth on the night's ear ringing when our pantriarch of Comestowntonobble gets the pullover on his boots.
Liverpoor? Sot a bit of it! His braynes coolt parritch, his pelt nassy, his heart's adrone, his bluidstreams acrawl, his puff but a piff, his extremities extremely so: Fengless, Pawmbroke, Chilblaimend and Baldowl. Humph is in his doge. Words weigh no more to him than raindrips to Rethfernhim. Which we all like. Rain. When we sleep. Drops. But wait until our sleeping. Drain. Sdops.