As the lion in our teargarten remembers the nenuphars of his Nile it may be that the besieged bedreamt him still and solely of those lililiths undeveiled which had undone him, gone for aye, and knew not the watchful treachers at his wake, and theirs to stay. It may be that he reglimmed? presaw? the fields of wheat and fields of wheat where corngold Ysit? shamed and shone. It may be that with
his deepseeing insight (had not wishing oftbeen but good time wasted), petrified within his patriarchal shamanah, broadsteyne 'bove citie |6(Twillby! Twillby!)6|, he, conscious of enemies, |6a
kingbilly in a Finglas mill,6| prayed as he sat on anxious seat during that three and a half hours' agony of silence, in profundis malorum, with unfeigned charity that his wordwounder, a born who would go anyoldwhere on his mottled belly for milk, music or married missusses, might, mercy to providential benevolence's (who
hates prudencies) astuteness, unfold into the first of a distinguished dynasty of his posteriors,
blackfaced connemaras not of the fold but elder children of his household, his most besetting of ideas (pace his twolve predominant passions) being the formation, as in more favoured climes, of a truly criminal stratum, Ham's cribcracking yeggs, thereby at last eliminating from the oppidump much desultory delinquency from all classes and masses with directly derivative decasualisation: and so the hobedience of the citizens be the ealth of the ole.
Let us leave theories there and return to here's here. Now hear. The coffin, feets to the east, was to turn in handy later, materially effecting the cause. And this is the |6howe thinghowe6|. Any number of conservative public bodies, through select and other committees, before voting themselves by a fit and proper resolution once for all out of plotty existence, made him, while his body still existed, their present of a grave in Moyelta of the best Lough Neagh pattern, then as much in demand among misonesans as the Isle of Man today among limniphobes. It was in a fairly fishy condition after the Fianna's foreman had taken his handful, enriched with ancient woods and dear dutchy deeplinns mid which were an old knoll and a troutbeck, vainyvain of her osiery and chatty with any Wilt or Walt who would ongle her as Izaak did to the tickle of his rod and watch her waters: and there now, brown peater everipple (may their quilt gild lightly over his somnolutent form!), Whoforyou lies his last, by the wrath of Bog, like the erst curst Hun in the bed of his trueblue Donawhu.
This wastohavebeen underground heaven, first in the west, he openly damned and blasted by means of a hydromine, system Sowan and Beltiny, exploded from a reinvented bombingpost up ahoy of eleven hundred and thirtytwo wingrests (circiter) to sternboord out of his aerial thorpeto, Auton Dynamon, contacted with the expectant minefield by tins of improved ammonia lashed to her shieldplated gunwale and fused into tripup cables, slipping through tholes and playing down from the conning tower into the ground battery fuseboxes, all differing as clocks from keys since nobody appeared to have the same time of beard, some saying it was Sygstrygg's to nine, more holding it was Dane to pfife. He afterwards carefully lined the ferroconcrete result with rotproof bricks and mortar, fassed to fossed, so encouraging other useful bodies public such as the Breeders' Union, the Guild of Merchants of the Staple to present unto him over and above that a stone slab with the usual address of valediction: We have done with you, Mr Herewhippit, skidoo! Show coffins, winding sheets, cinerary urns, liealoud brasses, snuffchests, poteentubbs and for that matter any kind of funeral bric to brac would naturally follow in the ordinary course, enabling that roundtheworlder to live safeathomely all the presenile days of his life of opulence, ancient ere decrepitude, whaling away the whole of the while, lethelulled between explosion and reexplosion from grosskopp to megapod, embalmed, of grand age, rich in death anticipated.
The other spring offensive on the heights of Abraham may have come about all quite by accident. Foughtarundser (for Breedabrooda had at length persuaded him to have himself to be buried in Finntown) had not been three monads in his watery grave when portrifaction, dreyfussed as ever, began to ramp, ramp, ramp, the boys are parching. From both Celtiberian camps (granting at the onset for the
sake of argument that men on the two sides, in New South Ireland and Vetera Uladh, bluemin and pillfaces, during the ferment With the Pope or On the Pope, had, moors or letts, grant ideas, grunted) all conditions, poor cons and dives mor, were drawn toowards their Bellona's Black Bottom, once Woolwhite's Waltz (Ohiboh, how becrimed, becursekissed and bedumbtoit!), some for want of proper
feeding in youth, others already caught in the honourable act of slicing out careers for family and carvers in conjunction: and, if emaciated enough, the person garrotted may have suggested to whomever
took the ham of, the plain being involved in darkness, low cirque waggery, nay, even the first old wugger of himself in the flesh|6, whiggissimus6| incarnadined, when falsesighted by the ifsuchhewas bully on the hill, a tory of the tories, for there had circulated freely fairly among his opposition the feeling that in so hibernating Massa Eewacka, who, previous to that demidetached life, had been known of barmicidal days, cook said, between soup and savoury, to get outside his own length of rainbow trout as no man of woman born, was, like the salmon of his ladderleap, all this time of totality, secretly |6and by suckage6| feeding on his own misplaced fat.
Ladies did not disdain those pagan ironed times of the first city (called after the ugliest Danadune) when a frond was a friend idneed to carry, as earwigs do their dead, their soil to the earthball. Venuses were gigglibly temptatrix, vulcans guffawably eruptious and the whole wives' world frockful of fickles. Fact, any human inyan you liked any erenoon or efter would take her bare
goddkin out, or an even pair of hem, and prettily pray with him (or with em even), everyhe to her taste, long for luck, tapette and tape petter and take pettest of all. Wells she'd woo and wills she'd win but how the deer knowed where she'd marry her! Arbour, bucketroom, caravan, ditch? Coach, carriage, wheelbarrow, dungcart? Kate Strong, a widow — she pulls a picture for us,
glowing and very vidual, of old dumplan as she nosed it, a homelike cottage of elvanstone with droppings of biddies, stinkend pusshies, rotten witchawubbles and festering rubbages, if not worse, sending salmofarious germs in gleefully through the smithereen panes — Widow Strong, then, did most all the scavenging from good King Hamlaugh's gulden doyne onwards, but her lean besom cleaned
but sparingly, and her bare statement reads that,
there being no macadamised sidetracks on those old nekropolitan nights barring a footbatter, Bryant's Causeway, bordered with speedwell, white clover and sorrel a wood knows,
which left off where the plaintiff was struck, she left down, as scavengers who will be scavengers must, her filthdump near the Serpentine in Phoenix Park (at her time called Finewell's Keepsacre but later tautaubapptossed Pat's Purge), all over which fossil footprints, bootmarks, fingersigns, elbowdints, kneecaves, breechbowls a.s.o. were all successively traced of a mostenvolving description. What subtler place of the weald than such |6wolfsbelly6| castrament to hide a leabhar from Thursmen's brandihands or a loveletter, lostfully hers, that would be lust on Ma, than there where ructions ended, than here where race began: and by four hands of forethought the first babe of reconcilement is laid in its last cradle of hume sweet hume. Give over it! And no more of it! So pass the pick for child sake! O men! For hear Allhighest sprack: and his nuptial eagles sharped their beaks of prey: and every murphyl man of us, pome by pome, falls back into this terrine: as it was let it be, says he! And it is as though the streamlettes of the obluvial waters of our noarchic memory withdrew, windingly goharksome, at her rude word: Lave that bloody stone as it is! What are you doing your dirty minx and his big treeblock way up your path? Slip around, you, by the rere of the minister's! And, you, take that barrel back where you got it, MacShane's, and go the way your old one went, Hatchettsbury Road! And, gish, how they gushed away, the pennyfares, a whole school for scamper, with their sashes flying sish behind them, all the little pirlypettes! Issy-la-Chapelle! Any lucans, please?
Yes, it was hard by the howe goes there, plainly on this disoluded spot, rupestric then, resurfaced that now is, in the saddle of Brennan's pass, versts and versts from true civilisation, where livland yontide meared with the wilde, saltlea with flood, that the attackler, though under medium, with truly native pluck engaged the Adversary whom, for plunder sake, he mistook in the heavy rain to be Oglethorpe or somebody else to whom he bore some michelangiolesque resemblance, making use of sacrilegious languages to the effect that he would cannonise the b—y b—r's life out of him and lay him out contritely as soon as the b—r had his b—y nightprayers said, at the same time catching holst of an oblong bar he had and with which he usually broke furnitures he rose the stick at him. They struggled for some considerable time around the booksafe, fighting like purple top and tipperuhry Swede, and in the course of their tussle the taller man said to the miner who was carrying the worm:
— Let me go, Paudheen! I hardly knew ye.
Later on the same man (or a different and younger ham of the same him) asked in the vermicular with a very eggly chew-chin-grin as if he forgot something:
— Was six victorios fifteen pigeon takee offa you, tell he me, strongfella, by pickypocky ten to four months behindaside?
There were some further severe tries to convert for the best part of an hour and now a woden affair in the shape of a webley fell from the intruser who whereupon became friendly and wanted to know, laying all joking and knobkerries aside, if his change companion, who stuck still to the invention of his strongbox, happened to have the loots change of a tenpound crickler about him at the moment, addling that, hap so, he would pay him back the six vics odd, do you see, out of that for what was taken on the man of samples last Yuni or Yuly, do you follow me, major? To this the other who had mummed and mauled up to that rather amusedly replied:
— Woowoo would you be grossly surprised, Hill, to learn that, as it so happens, I honestly have not such a thing as the loo, as the least chance of a tinpanned crackler anywhere about me at the present mohomoment but I believe I can see my way, as you suggest, to advance you something like four and sevenpence between hopping and tropping which you might just as well have to buy J. J. and S. with. Heart alive! Whwh at very first wind of gaygay and whiskwy, 's wick ears pricked up, the starving gunman, strike him pink, became strangely calm and forthright said he would go good to him suntime and remarking in languidoily, apparently much more highly pleased than tongue could tell at this opening of a lifetime and the foretaste of the Dun Bank pearlmothers and the boy to wash down which he would feed to himself in the Ruadh Cow at Tallaght and then into the Good Woman at Ringsend and after her inat Conway's Inn at Blackrock and, first to fall, cursed be all, where appetite would keenest be, atte Adam and Eve's in Quantity Street:
— You stunning little southdowner! I'd know you anywhere, Declaney, let me trucefully tell you, and who the hell else, be your blanche patch! Goalball I've struck this night of nights, by golly! My hat, you have some bully German grit, sundowner! With that the queer
mixture exchanged the pax in an embrace or poghue puxy as practised between brothers of the same breast, hillelulia, killelulia, and levanted off over the assback bridge with the four and seven in danegeld and his humoral hurlbat or other uncertain weapon of lignum vitae picked up, to keep some crowplucking appointment while this poor delaney who he left along with the fender behind and who bore up wonderfully wunder all of it with a whole number of plumsized contusiums, plus alasalah bruised coccyx, all over him, reported the occurrence in the best way he could, giving the military salute, in justifiable hope that some lotion or fomentation of poppyheads would be exhibited to the parts, at the nearest watchhouse on Vicar Lane, his face all covered with nonfatal mammalian blood as proof positive of the seriousness of his character and that he was bleeding from the nostrils, lips, pavilion and palate, while some of his hair had been pulled off his head by Colt though otherwise his allround health appeared to be middling along as it proved most fortunate that not one of the two hundred and six bones |6and five hundred and one muscles6| in his corso was a whit the whorse for the whacking.
Nowthen, leaving clashing ash, brawn and muscle and brassmade to oust earthenborn and rockcrystal to wreck isinglass but coming along gradually to the question of boney's unlawfully obtaining a pierced paraflamme and claptrap fireguard, there crops out the still more salient point of the politish leanings and town pursuits of our forebeer, who, when within the black of your nail of being
mistakenly ambushed and as close as made no matter to being kayoed offhand when the hyougono heckler with the Peter the Painter wanted to hole him, was consistently practising the first of the primary
liberties of the pacific subject by circulating alongst one of our umphrohibited semitary thrufahrts, to walk, Wellington Park Road, with the curb under his auxter and his alpenstuck in his redhand, a highly commendable exercise, or, number two of our acta legitima plebeia, on the brink of taking place upon a public seat, without intent to annoy either, being praisegood thankfully for the wrathbereaved ringdove and the fearstung boaconstrictor and all the more right jollywell pleased, which he was, at having other people's weather.
But to return to the Atlantic. As if that were not to be enough for anyone but little headway, if any, was made in solving the wasnottobe crime conundrum when a child of Maam, Festy King, who gave an address in old plomausch Mayo of the Saxons in the heart of a foulfamed poteen district, was subsequently brought up at the Old Bailey on the calends of Mars under an improperly framed indictment
of both the counts. When the prisoner, soaked in methylated, appeared in dry dock, wearing his fight shirt, souwester and a policeman's corkscrew trowswers all out of the true (as he had purposely torn up all his cymtrymanx clothes), deposing for
his exution in the royal Irish vocabularly how the whole suet had fallen off him unaccountably while he was trying for to stick fire to himcell, it was attempted by the crown to show that King, impersonating a climbing boy, rubbed any luvial mud o'er his face with a clanetourf as the best means of disguising himself and was at the middlewhite fair in Mudford of a Thoorsday under an illassumed name of Tykingfest picked out of a tellafun book, ellegedly with a pedigrue pig (unlicensed) and a hyacinth. The gathering, convened by the Irish Angricultural and Prepostoral Ouraganisations to help the Irish muck to look his brother dane in the face, and attended by large numbers, tospite of the deluge, was distinctly of a scattery kind when the ballybricken ate some of the doorweg, King later selling the gentleman ratepayer because she ate a whole side of her (the animal's) sty, Qui Sta Troia, in order to pay off six doubloons fifteen arrears of his, the villain's not the rumbler's, rent. Remarkable evidence was given, anon, by an eye, ear, nose and throat witness, W— P—, who, upon letting down his rice and peacegreen coverdisk, smiled and stated to his eliciter under his morse mustaccents that he was pleased to remember the filth of November, hatinaring, rowdy O, which, with the jiboulees of Juno, was going, please the Rainmaker, to decemb into the ephemerides of profane history and that one thing which would particularly strike a person of such sorely tried observational powers as Sam, him and Moffatt the striking thing about it was that he was patrified to see, hear, taste and smell on Struggle Street as his time of night how Hyacinth O'Donnell, B.A., described in the calendar as a mixer and wordpainter, with part of a sivispacem (Gaeltact for dungfork) on the fair green at twentyfour o'clock sought to sack, sock, stab and slaughter singlehanded another two of the old kings, Gash MacGale and Roaring O'Crian, Jr, both changelings of no address and in noncommunicables, between him and whom ever since wallops before the Mise of Lewes bad blood existed on the ground of trespass on the bull or because he firstparted his polarbeeber hair in twoways or because they could not say meace, meathe. The litigants, he said, local kingsmen and donalds, were egged on by their
supporters in the shape of bitterwomen waving crimson petties and shouting from Isod's towertop.
There were cries from the thicksets in court and from the macdublins on the bohernabreena of: Mind Messer, the ban from Banagher, Mick, sir! Prodooce O'Donner. A Bu!
But it oozed out in crossexanimation of the casehardened testis that when and where that knife of knifes the threepartied ambush was laid (roughly speaking around |6halftime halfhours6| 'twixt dusk in
by Waterhose's|6,º |aMiddle Meddlea| Europeic Time,6| near Stop and Think, |6the high chief of evervirens and6| only abfalltree in auld the land) there was not as much light from the widowed moon as would dim a child's altar. The mixer, accordingly, was bluntly broached as to whether he was one of those lucky cocks for whom the audible-visible-gnosible-edible world existed. That he was only too sure of it because, living, loving, breathing and sleeping |s6toneformcolour tonemassformcolours6|, as he most significantly did, |s6everywhen wheneveryºs6| he thought he heard he saw he felt he made a bell clipperclipperclipperclipper. Whether he was practically sure too of his names in this king and blousyman business? That he was pediculously so. It was Morbus O'Somebody? A'quite. And how did he arrive at the B.A.? That it was like his poll. A crossgrained trapper with murty odd eyes, awlpierced ears, inquiline nose and a twitcherous mouth? He would be. And with a stopper head, bottle shoulders, a barrel belly and tumblerous legs? The very man! Rooskayman? Sooner Gallwegian he would say. Not unintoxicated, fair witness? Drunk as a fishup. The gracious miss was no doubt sensible how he was altered? That she generally was! As to his religion, if any? It was the see-you-Sunday sort. Exactly what he meant by a pederast prig? Just a gent who prayed his lent. And whether this middleclassed portavorous was a useful beast? About as useful as a vomit to a shorn man. The grazing rights (Mrs Magistra Martinette) expired with the expiry of the goat's sire, if they were not mistaken? That he exactly could not tell the worshipfuls but his mother had the receipt for the price of the coffin and she could tell them. Quare hircum? No answer. Unde gentium fe …? No ah. And as to the pugnacities evinced during the affray how they appealed to him then? That it was wildfires night, Mickmichael's soords shrieking shrecks
through the wilkinses and Neckanicholas' toastingforks pricking prongs up the tunnybladders. Let there be fight? And there was. Foght. The devoted couple was or were only two solicitresses on the job of the unfortunate class? That was about it. And if it was all about that? About that and the other. Briefly, how it all finally struck him now? Like the crack that bruck the benk in Multifarnham. Whether he fell in with what they meant? That he suppoxed he did. If it was a bad clap? Oo! Bloody awful? Shocking! Whurawhorascortastrumpapornablankstrippuckputtanach, eh? You have it all right.
But a new complexion was put upon the matter when to the perplexedly uncondemnatory bench the senior
king of all, Pegger Festy, as soon as the outer layer of stucckomuck had been removed at the request of a few live jurors, declared in a loudburst of poesy through his Brythonic interpreter on his oath, whereas take notice be the relics of the bones of the storybouchal that was ate be Cliopatrick (the sow), afore God and all their honours and king's commons that yif live thurkells folloged him about sure that was no steal and that he did not fire a stone either before or after he was born down and up to that time. And this the sockdologer had the neck to endorse with the head bowed on him over his outturned noreaster by protesting to his lipreaders with a justbeencleaned barefacedness, abeam of moonlight's hope, in the same trelawney what he would impart, pleas bench, to Jesus and the gentlemen in Jury's that he might never ask to see sight or light of this world or the other world or any other world, as true as he was there in that jackabox that minute, or wind the inexousthausthible wassailhorn with his heroes in Warhorror, if ever in all his exchequered career he up or lave a chancery hand to take or throw the sign of a mortal stick or stone at man, yoelamb or salvation army either before or after being puptised down to that most holy and ever blessed hour. Awham.
Here, upon the halfkneed castleknocker's attempting kithoguishly to lilt his and make the sign of the Roman Godhelic faix, outbroke much laughters from the heall (Ha!) in which, under the mollification of methaglin, the testifighter reluctingly, but ever so ladylike, joined. (Ha! Ha!)
The hilariohoot of Pegger's Windup cumjostled as neatly with the tristitone of the Wet Pinter's as were they, isce et ille, equals of opposites, evolved by a onesame power of nature or of spirit, iste, as the sole condition and means of its himundher manifestation and polarised for reunion by the symphysis of their antipathies. Distinctly different were their duadestinies.
Whereas the maidies of the bar fluttered and flattered around the willingly pressed, complimenting him on his having all his senses about him, stincking hyacinths through his curls and bringing busses to his cheeks, their masculine Oirisher Rose, and legando round his nice new neck for him and pizzicagnoling his woollywags, it was not unobserved of those presents, their worships, how, of one among all, Gemma Gentia of the Makegiddyculling Reeks, he, wan and pale in his unmixed admiration, seemed blindly, mutely, tastelessly, tactlessly innamorate, with heruponhim in shining aminglement, the shaym of his hisn shifting into the shimmering of her hers till the wild wishwish of her sheeshea melted moist musically mid the dark deepdeep of his shayshaun.
And whereas distracted (for was not just this in effect which had just caused that the effect of that which it had caused to occur?) the four justicers laid their wigs together, Untius, Muncius, Punchus and Pylax, but could do no worse than promulgate
their standing verdict of Nolans Brumans whereonafter King, having murdered all the English he knew, left the tribunal scotfree, trailing his tunic in his hurry, thereinunder proudly showing off the blink patch to his britgits to prove himself a real gentleman. To the Switz bobbyguard's curial but courtlike: Commodore valley O hairy, Arthre jennyrosy?, the firewaterloover returted with such a vinesmelling fortytudor ages rawdownhams tanyouhide as would the latten stomach even of an equinous so that all the twofromthirty advocatesses within echo, pulling up their briefs, safely and soundly soccered that fenemine Parish Poser (how dare he!) umprumptu rightoway hames, much to his thanks, gratiasagam, to all the wrong donatrices (for like your true venison lover he was as timid as the dears at Bottome), to biss Drinkbottle's Dingy Dwellings where he shat in (zoo) like the muddy goalbird who he was (dun), conclaiming: Your garbage abaht our father! and gaingridando: Hon! Verg! Nau! Putor! Skam! Schams! Shames!
And so it all ended. And so everybody heard their complaint and all listened to their plause. Wind broke it. Wave bore it. Reed wrote of it. Syce ran with it. Hand tore it and wild went war. Hen trieved it and plight pledged peace. It was folded with cunning, sealed with crime, uptied by a harlot, undone by a child. It was life but was it fair? It was free but was it art? The old hunks on the hill read it to perlection. It made ma make merry and sissy so shy and rubbed some shine off Shem and put some shame into Shaun. And that was how, framm sin fromm son, acity arose, finfin funfun, asitting arows. Now tell me, tell me, tell me then!
What was it?
So there you are now there they were, when all was over again, the four of them, setting around upin their judges' chambers, in the muniment room, under the auspices of Lally, around their old traditional tables of the law like somany solans to talk it over allthesameagain. Well and druly dry. Suffering law the dring. Accourting to king's evelyns. So help her goat and kiss the bouc.
Festives and highajinks and jintyaun and not to forget now a'duna o'darnel. The four of them and thank court now there were no more of them. So pass the push, for port' sake. Be it soon. Ah ho! And do you remember Singabob, the badfather, the same, the great Howdoyoucallem, and his old nickname, Dirty Daddy Pantaloons, in his monopoleums, behind the war of the two roses, with
Michael Victory before
he caught his paper dispillsation from the poke, old Minace and Minster York? Do I mind? I mind the gush off the mon like Ballybock manure works on a windy day. And the O'Moyly gracies and the O'Briny rossies chaffing him bluchface and playing him pranks. How do you do todo, North Mister? Get into my way! Ah dearome forsailorshe! Gone over the bays! When ginabawdy meadabawdy! Yerra, why would she heed that old gasometer with his hooping coppin and his dyinboosycough and all the birds of the southside after her, Minxy Cunningham, jimmies and jonnies, to be her jo? Sure, 'tis well I recollect him, H2CE3 that would take a township's breath away! Gob and I nose him too as well as I do meself, heaving up the Kay Wall by the 32 to 11 with his limelooking horsebags full of
sesameseed, the Whiteside Kaffir, and his seaman's effluvium and his scentpainted voice, puffing out his brown cabbage! Pa! Thawt I'm |6(+glad+)6| a gull for his pawsdeen fiunn! Goborro, ses he, Lankyshies! Gobugga ye, ses I, O breezes west! I sniffed that lad long before anyone. It was when I was in my grandfather and she and myself firstnighters down Sycomore Lane. Fine feelplay we had of it mid the bluebells frisking in the cool dusk of the lushiness. My perfume of the pampas, says she (meaning me), putting out her netherlights, I'd sooner one sip to your mountain dew than enrich my acquaintance with that big brewer's belch.
And now a drink is shorter than a story. And so they went on, the fourbottle men, unquam and nunquam and lunquam again, about her whosebefore and his wheresafter and how she was lost away away in the fern and how he was founded deap on deep in anear and the rustlings and the twitterings and the raspings and the snappings and the sighings and the pantings and the ukukukings and the (hist!) the
springapartings and the (pist!) the bybyscuttlings and all the scandalmunkers and the pure craigs that used to be (up) that time living and lying and rating and riding round Nunsbelly Square. And all the buds in the bush. And the laughing
jackass. Harik! Harik! Harik! The rose is white in the darik! And sunfella's nose has got rhinoceritis from haunting the roes in the parik! And contradrinking themselves about Mrs Niall of the Nine Corsages and the old markiss and, arrah, sure there was never a marcus at all at all among the manlies, and dear sir armoury, queer sir rumoury, and the old house by the churpelizod and all the goings on long before when they were going on retreat, the four of them, in Milton's Park under lovely Father Whisperer and making her love with his stuffstuff and feeling to find was she mushymushy and meeting waters round the garden, trickle trickle trickle triss, please, miman, may I go flirting? farmer's gone with a groom, how they used her, mused her, licksed her and cuddled. I differ with ye! Are you sure of yourself now? You're a liar, excuse me! I will not and you're another! And Lully holding their breach of the peace for them. Pool loll Lully! To give and to take! And to forgo the pasht! And all will be forgotten! Ah ho! It was too too bad to be falling out about her kindness pet and the shape of ooooooooourang's time. Well, all right, Lally. And shakeahand. And schenkusmore. For Craig sake. Be it suck.
Well, even should not the framing up of such figments in the evidential order bring the true truth to light as fortuitously as a dimseer's setting of a starchart might (heaven helping it!) uncover the nakedness of an unknown body in the fields of blue or as forehearingly as the sibspeeches of all mankind have foliated (earth seizing them!) from the root of somefunner's stotter, all
the soundest sense to be found immense our special mentalists now holds that by such playing possum our hagious curious encestor bestly saved his brush with his posterity, you, charming coparcenors, us, heirs of his |6tailzie
tailsie6|. Gundogs of all breeds were beagling with renounced urbiandorbic
bugles, hot to run him, given law, on a scent breasthigh, keen for the worry. View! From his holt outratted, across the Juletide's genial |6grasslands |acrosslands corsslandsa| of Humfries Chase6| from Mullinahob and Peacockstown, then bearing right upon Tankardstown, the outlier, a white noelan which Mr |6Loewensteilº6| FitzUrse's basset beaters had first misbadgered for a bruin of some swart, led bayers the |6chace run6|, then through Raystown and Harlockstown and, louping the loup, to Tankardstown again. Ear canny hare for doubling, through Cheeverstown they raced him, through Loughlinstown and Nutstown to wind him by the Boolies. But from the good turn when he last was lost, check, upon Ye Hill of Rut in full winter coat with ticker pads, pointing for his rooming house in his rolltoproyal hessians, a deaf fox's volponism hid him close in covert, miraculously ravenfed and buoyed up, in rumer, reticule, onasum and abomasum, upon (may Allbrewham have his mead!) the creamclotted sherriness of cinnamon syllabub. Hence hounds hied home. Preservative perseverance in the reeducation of his intestines was thus the rebuttal by whilk he sort of git the big bulge on the whole bunch of spasoakers in that sometime prestreet protown. Vainly violence, virulence and vituperation sought wellnigh utterly to attax and abridge, to derail and depontify, to enrate and inroad, to ongoad and unhume the great shipping mogul and underlinen overlord.
Assemblymen murmured. Reynard is slow!
One feared for his days. He had laid violent hands on himself, it was brought in Fugger's Newsletter, lain down, all in, fagged out, with equally melancholy death. Big went the bang: then wildewide was quiet: a report: silence: last Fama put it under ether. The noase or the loal had dreven him blem, blem, stun blem. Sparks flew. He had fled again (open shunshema!) this country of exile,
sloughed off home via the subterranean tunnel shored with bedboards, stowed away in a dutch bottom, tunk the Arsa, hod S.S. Finlandia, and was even now occupying, in his seventh generation, a physical body, Cornelius Magrath's, in Asia Major. Wires hummed. Peacefully general astonishment assisted by regrettitude had put a term till his existence: he saw the family
saggarth, resigned himself, put off his remainders, was recalled and scrapheaped by the Maker. Chirpings crossed. An infamous private ailment (vulgovariovenereal) had claimed endright, closed his vicious circle, snap. Jams jarred. He had walked towards the middle of an ornamental lilypond when innebriated up to the point where braced shirts meet knickerbockers when rodmen's firstaiding hands
had rescued un from very possibly several feet of demifrish water. Mush spread. On Umbrella Street a kind workman, Mr Whitlock, gave him a piece of his wood. Cracklings crickled. A human pest cycling (pist!) and recycling (past!) about the sledgy streets of the gardencity, here he was (pust!) again! He was loose at large and might be anywhere. Morse nuisance noised when a disguised nun of huge
build and masculine manners, Mother Gygasta, hattracted hattention in a hominibuzz. Aerials bizzed to coastal listeners of an eartax collector's budget and bloody antichill
cloak, its tailor's (Baernfather's) tab reading V.P.H., found nigh Scaldbrothar's Hole, and divers shivered to think what manner of beast, wolves, croppies or fourpenny friars had devoured him. C.W. cast wide. On his postern, the boys had it, at Whitweekend had been nailed an inkedup title, inscribed in the national cursives, accelerated, regressive, filiform, turreted, and envemoloped in piggotry: Move up, Mumpty! Mike room for Rumpty! By order, Nickellous Plugg! And this go, no pentecostal jest about it, there had been real murder: the MacMahon boys, it was, that had done him in. Indeed not a few thick and thin wellwishers even ventured so far as to loan or beg copies of the trilingual triweekly, Scatterbrains' Aftening Posht, so as to make certain sure onetime and be satisfied of his having become genuinely quite
beetly dead whether by land whither by water. Transocean atalaclamoured him: The latter! The latter! He lay under leagues of it in deep Bartholomew's Deep.
Achdung! Pozor! Attenshune! Vikeroy Besights Smucky Yung Pigeschoolies. Tri Paisdinernes Eventyr Med Lochlanner Fathach I Fionnuisgehaven. Bannalanna Bangs Ballyhooly Out Of Her Buddaree Of A Bullavogue.
But, their bright little contemporaries notwithstanding, on the morrowing morn of the suicidal murder of the unrescued expatriate a quarter of nine, imploring his resipiency, saw the infallible spike of smoke jutstiff punctual from the seventh gable of his buttertower and ten thirsty p.m., with oaths upon his lastingness, the lamps of maintenance, innerhalb the ziggurat, all brevetnamed, the
wasting wyvern, the tawny of his mane, the swinglowswaying bluepaw brors, the outstanding man, the lolllike lady, being litten for the long (O
laud, how long!) lifesnight, a suffusion of transom and leadlight panes. Wherefore let it hardly by any being thinking be said either or thought that the prisoner of that sacred edifice, were he an Ivor the Boneless or an Olaf the Hvide, was at his best a onestone parable, a rude breathing on the void of to be, or, more strictly, but tristurned initials, the cluekey to a worldroom beyond the roomwhorld; for scarce one, or pathetically few, of his contemporaries cared seriously or for long to doubt the canonicity of his existence as a tesseract.
Dispersal women wondered. Was she fast?
Now listen to one aneither and liss them down and smoothen out your leaves of rose. The war is o'er. Was it Unity Moore or Estella Swifte or Varina Fay or Quarta Quaedam? Who, but who (for second time of asking), was then the scourge of the parts about Lucalizod, it was wont to be asked, as, in ages behind of the Homo Capite Erectus, what price Peabody's money, or, to put it bluntly,
whence is the herrington's white cravat, as, in epochs more cainozoic, who struck Buckley, though nowadays as thentimes every schoolfilly of sevenscore moons or more who knows her intimologies and every colleen bawl aroof and every redflammelwaving warwife and widowpeace upon Dublin Wall for ever knows how it was Buckleyself who struck and the Russian
|6general generals6| (da! da!) instead of Buckley who was caddishly struck by him when by |6himself
herselves6|. What fullpay poisonspy or which hatefilled crookedrib? And that such a vetriol of vinom a quiet |6stamp stinkingplaster
seal6| could cover! The loungelizards of the pumproom had their nine days' jeer when, still believing in her owenglass that the upper reach of her mouthless face and her impermanent waves were the better half of her, one nearer him, dearer than all, first
warming creature of his early morn, bondwoman of the man of the house and murrmurr of all the mackavicks, she who had given his eye for her bed and a tooth for a child till one one and one ten and one hundred again, O me and O ye, |6cad and prim,6| the hungray end anngreen (and if she is older now than her teeth she has hair that
is younger than thighne, my dear!), she who will not rast her from her running to seek him till |6some6| such times that she shall have been after hiding the crumbends of his enormousness in the areyou lookingfor Pearlfar sea, stood forth, dragging the countryside in her train, with pawns, prelates and pookas in her piecebag, to crush the slander's head.
Wery weeny wight, plead for Morandmor! Notre Dame de la Ville, mercy of thy balmheartsyheat! Let him rest, thou wayfarer, and take no gravespoil from him! Neither mar his mound! The bane of Tut is on it. Ware! There's a little lady waiting and her name is A.L.P. And you'll agree. She must be she. |6He spenth his strenth amok haremscarems:º Poppy,º Narancy, Giallia, Chlora, |aMalva Marinkaa|, |aIndra and Anileen,ºa| Parme. And ilk |aof aa| those dames had her rainbow |aunread humoursa| yet for whilk |aof oºa| her whims but he coined a cure. Tifftiff togay,º kissykissy tonay and agelong pine for tomauranna.6| |6For Then6| who but Crippled-with-Children would speak up for Dropping-with-Sweat?
|6Told Sold6| him her lease of ninenineninetee,
Tresses undresses so dyedyedaintee,
He, the great gudgeon, gulped it all.
He was the C.O.D.?
At Island Bridge she met her tide.
Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!
The Fin had a flux and his Ebba a ride.
|6Attabom, attabom,º attabombomboom!6|
We're all up to the years in hues and cribies.
That's what she's done for wee!
|6⇑6| |6Attabom, attabom, attabombomboom!6|