A |4great flink4| dab was frankily at the manual arith sure enough which was the bekase he knowed from his cradle no boy better why his ten fingures were giving him whatfor to fife with. First there came
boko and nigh him wigworms
and nigh him tittlies and nigh him cheekchaps and nigh him pickpocket with pickpocketpumb, pickpocketpoint, pickpocketprod, pickpocketpromise and upwithem. And anyhows always after them the dimpler he weighed the fonder fell he of cardinals. Always would he be areciting of them up by rota, from fursed to laced, quickmarch to decemver, so as to pin the tenners, thumbs down. And anon and aldays, strues yerthere, would he wile arecreating em in lumerous ways like to pitch of your cap, pac, on to tin tall spillicans. Ace, deuce, tricks, quarts, quims. While on the other hand, sexes, suppers, oglers, novels and dice. What signifieth all that but 'tis as strange to relate he, nonparile to reed, rite and reckan, caught allmeals dull marks for his nucleud and allgobrew. O them bate him up jerrybly! Binomeans to be comprendered. The aximones. Equal to = hsaoc.
So, as you know yourself better nor anyone else, comic cuts always were to be |4seen capered4| in Casey's, frost book of, page torn on dirty, |4to be hacked at Hickey's, hucksterº, Wellington's Iron Bridge,4| and so, by long last, as it would fall out, must he to bid adieu to those cardinhands he so greatly missed. Dear hearts of my counting, would it lilt then, forewheel to backnumbers, and, the time being no help fort, |4please plates to4| lick one and turn over.
Problem ye ferst, construct ann aquilittoral dryankle. Probe loom! With his primal handstoe in his sole salivarium. Concoct an equoangular trilitter. On the name of the teaser and off the tongs and off the mythametical tripods. Beatsoon.
Can you not do her, numb? asks Dolph, suspecting the answer know. I cont, ken you, ninny? asks Kev, expecting the answer guess. Nor was the noer long disappointed for, easiest of kisshams, he was told. O, tell it to we, do, Sem! Well, 'tis thusly. First mull a mugfull of mud, son. Oglores,
he prays, olorum! What the D.V. would I do that for? That's a goosey's ganswer you're |4for4| giving me, he is told, what the Deva would you do that for? Take your mut for a first beginning. Anny liffle mud which cometh out of Mam will doob, I guess. Mux it at a point of the
coastmap to be called α but pronounced olfa. There's the isle of Mun, ah! O! Bene! Now, all in applepine |4order, erdor,4| (for Dolph, dean of idlers, suckling of a stone, though barekely a boy, he too — venite praeteriti, sine mora dumque de entibus nascituris decentius in lingua romana mortuorum parva chartula liviana ostenditur, sedentes in laetitia super ollas carnium, spectantes immo situm lutetiae unde auspiciis secundis tantae consurgent humanae stirpes, antiquissimam flaminum amborum Jordani et Jambaptistae mentibus revolvamus sapientiam: totum tute fluvii modo mundo fluere, eadem quae ex aggere fututa fuere iterum intra alveum fore futura, quodlibet sese ipsum per aliudpiam agnoscere contrarium, omnem demum amnem ripis rivalibus amplecti — recurrently often|4, when him moved he would cake |athe theira| chair,º4| coached ribolliumtending mikes of his same and over his own choirage |4at Backlane university4|, among of |4whom which pupal souav souavesº4| he was pulled up, |4bred and battered,4|
for a dillon a dollar, changing letters for them |4vice o' verseº4| to bronze mottes and blending tschemes for em in tropadores and |4doublecrossingº twofold truthsº and4| devising tingling tailwords too whilest, cunctant that another would finish his sentence for him, he would smilabit eggways ned, he would, and pick upon his ten ordinailed ungles, retelling humself a reel of funnish ficts apout the shee, how faust of all and on segund thoughts and the third's the charmhim girlalove and fourthermore and filthily with bag from Oxatown and baroccidents and proper accidence and hoptohill and hexenshoes; and in point of feet when he landed in ourland's leinster |4of scamps and sinners4| for the twicedhecame time off Lipton's |4launch strongbowed launch, the Lady Eva,4| in a tan soute of sails he converted its natives, |4name saints,º4| young ordnands and old unguished elders, to put off the barcelonas from their sinful corpicules |4(Gratings,º Mr Dane!)4| and
kiss on their boots (Master!) as often as they came within bloodshot of that other familiar temple and showed em the celestine way to by his tristar and his flop hattrick and his |4perry4| humdrum dumb and numb nostrums that he larned in Hymbuktu; and that same gallo-roman cultous is very prevailend up to this windiest of |4soirées laud-have-miseries4| all over what was beforeabouts a land of nods, in spite of all the bloot, all the braim, all the brawm, all the brile, that was shod, that were shat, that was shuk all the while, for our people |4at |athea| Wickerworksº4| still hold
|4ford4| to their healing and byleave in the old weighs downupon the Swanny innovated by him, the |4prince prence4| di Propagandi, the chrism for the christmass and the rock o' ralereality, and it is veritably belied, we belove, that not all the soupcans that's in the queen's pottagepots and not all the green gold that the Indus contains would ever hinduce them (o.p.) to steeplechange back to their ancient |4flash and crash4| habits |4of old Pales time4| which, |4cumma cummal4|, having listed curefully to his continental's curses, |4pummel,º4| apostrophised Byrne's and Flaming's and Furniss's and Bill Hayses's and Ellishly Haught's, hoo, they let drop as a doombody drops without another word eitherways, as |4swift priesto4| as paddywhack, coal on: and, talking of missions |4in general madeº to scotchº the schlang and leathercoats forº murty magdies4|, of course this has blameall in that world to say to his private's jidgments when, so to put it, on the shaughraun; but to return for a |4mere moment |~halfmot mereº moment~| from the reptile's age4| to the |4coxswain on theº4| first landing (|4half a mot page Ainée Riviere!4|), if the pretty elisabess|4, Hotel des Ruines4| — she laid her batsleeve for him two trueveres tell, and beauty alone of all dares say where now |4in what niche of time4| is shee that was the belle of La Chapelle, shapely Liselle, and the peg-of-my-heart of all the tompull, or on whose limbs-to-lave her semicupiose eyes now kindling themselves are brightning, the Shee who then (4.32 m.p. to be precise, accordant to all three doctors' waterburies, that was MacAuliffe and poor MacBeth and poor old MacCamell, to the tickleticks, of the synchronisms, all lauschening, a time also confirmed seven sincuries later by the fourth medical johnny, poor old MacAdoo |4Abooº4| MacDollett, with notary, whose presence was required by the law) who|4, afterº the first compliments,4| gave him then that vantage of a cuddlebath at her proper mitts — if she then, the then that matters — but, seigneur!, she could never have forefelt|4, as she yet will fearfeel, when the lovenext breaks out,4| such a coolcold douche as him doubling back, O alors!, to mount miss under |4the chemise de ferº and4| a vartryproof name|4, Multalusi4| (would it wash?), with a cheek as peaceful as, shall we say, a |4pretty single4| professed claire's, to buy her in, mon foie, |4ifº you |aplate plaita|,º4| nunc and tunc |4and for simper4|, and other |4duel4| mavourneens in plurible numbers from Arklow |4shore Vikloeº4| to Louth |4super Lusk4|, come messes, come mams, and touch your spottprice (for 'twas he was the born suborner, man), on behalf of an oldest ablished firma of winebakers, Lagrima und Gemiti, later on called by the unirish |4name title4| Grindings |4and ogº4| Nash, the
One and Only, |4Unic bar None,4| lastly of Saint Yves by Landsend corner, man — |4shipº me silver!,º4| it must have been, faw!, a terrible mavrue mavrone, such a finalley, as flat as his fut, for whowhowho?, the poour girl, a lonely peggy, given the bird, so isoladed |4as Crampton's peartreeº (she shallº earnº |aher bittera| bed by |athe thatºa| sweet of her face!),4| and short wonder so manny of the tomthick and tarry members in all there
sobsequious ages upped to console with her till the |4ides ives4| of Manx, the O'Kneels and the O'Prayins and the O'Hyens |4of Lochlaunstown4| and the O'Hollerins |4of Staineybooter4|, hollyboys all, |4burryripe,º who'll buy?,º4| in juwelietry and |4kickyochoses kickychosesº4| and madornaments and that's not the finis of it (would it were!) — but to think of him founding a nelliza the second also clipt buss where he did and when he did, retriever to the last — |4forget escapes my forgetness4| now was it |4dustcovered4| on |4street Waterlow raid4| or |4street4| down — for merry a valsehood whisprit he to minny a lilying earling; and to try to analyse that ambo's pair of braceleans akwart the |4sea rollyonº4| trying to amarm all of that |4miching micher's4| bearded but insensible virility into her limited |4(tufftuff,º que tu es pitre!º)4| |4lap lapse4| at the same slap for towelling ends in their delightful |4Sessex Sexsexº4| home, Somehow-at-Sea |4(O little oily head, sloper's brow and prickled ears!)4|, as though he|4, a notoriety, |aa foist edition,a|4| were a wrigular writher neonovene babe! — well, diarmuee and
granyu, if that is what lamoor that of gentle breast rathe is intaken seems circling towards out yondest heaven holp his hindmost and, mark me, it agins to pear like it par my fay and there is no use for your pastripreaching for to cheese it either or praying |4fresh4| fleshblood claspers |4|aof youngº catholick throatsºa| on Huggin Green4| to take warnung by the trispast, why?, bycows they wonot do ut; and an you could peep inside the cerebralised saucepan of this our goodfornobody you would see in his house of thoughtsam what a jetsam litterage of
convolvuli of times lost or strayed, of lands derelict or sunk and of tongues laggin too, and not only that but, by searchlighting pharahead into faturity, your own convolvulis would real to jazzfancy the |4fresh novo4| takingplace of what stale words whilom were woven with and fitted fairly featly for; so; and equally so the crame of it is that whenas the swiftshut soareyes of our pupilteachertaut duplex will hark back to lark to you that no mouth has the might to set a mearbound to the march of a landsmaul in half a sylb onward the beast of boredom common sense lurking down inside his loose Eating |4S.S.4| collar is gogoing to whisht to you sternly how) you must, haw, draw the line somewhawre.
Whats? Your parn! (And in truth he had albut lost himself, so had he gazed in the lazily eye of his lapis, Vieus Von DVbLIn) Given now an inch you take an all. Now (lens
your dappled eye here), we see the copyink line AL stops at Lambday. Modder ilond there too. Now with Olaf as centrum and Olaf's lambtail for his spokesman circumscribe a cyclone. Hoop! |4As round as the calf of an egg!4| O, dear me! O, dear me now! |4So the Earlyº4| clever, |4early surely4| doomed, |4to Swift's4| alas! |4like your Dadderº,º4| But it's not alover yet. The mystery repeats itself todate as our |4callback4| mothar Gaudyanna, that was daughter to a tanner, used to sing |4|aconsinuouslya| over her possetpot4| hesterday and istherday and forivor. I remumble, purr lil murrer of myhind, so she used indeed. Faithful departed. Rest in peace! What a wonderful memory you have too! Twonderful morrowy! Bene! Now springing quickenly
from the mudland Loosh from Luccan with Allhim as her Elder turn a somersault. Watch! Hop lala! |4As umpty herum as yourº seat!4| O, dear me, that was very nesse! Very nace indeed! Bene! Now, there's tew tricklesome poinds where our twain of doubling bicirculars dunloop into eath the ocher. Lucihere! I fee where you
mea. Now, I think as I'm squeezing the limon I'd likelong to mack a capital Pee for Pride down there and let you go and orrange your modest mock Pie out of Humbles up your end. Are you right there, Michael, are you right? Ay, I'm right here, Nickel, and I'll write. But it's the muddest thick that was ever heard dump. Now join alfa pea and pea loose by dotties and eelpie and paleale by trunkles. Like pat. I pea. Now, aqua in buccat, I'll make you to see figuratleavely the whom of your eternal
geomater. |4Arrah, go on! Finº for fun?º Let's have at it!º4| |4Pist! Pisk!4| We carefully, if |4you please she pleats4|, lift up by her hem |4(like thousands done before)4| the maidsapron of our A.L.P., fearfully!, till its nether nadir is where its naval's napex will have to beandbe. Waaaaaa. Tch! Pla! And |4there there,º redneck,º4| midden of the stream's your muddy old delta for you now, the first of all usquiluteral triangons and Allaph Quaran's |4bed or end. bett und bier.4|
|4Quicks herit fossyending.4| O, dear me, look at that now! What a quincidence! |4As Olloverº Cromlech said when he slepped over his graunyamother.4| But you're |4all mooxed and4| gaping up the wrong palce, you blessed simpletop |4domefool4|! You must lap down the bluishing reflection below. |4This. This!4| Well, well, well, well, well! O Dee, O Dee, that's very lovely! Very lively entirely! You know, you were alwise one of the bright ones, fakes. You know, you're the devil's own smart gossoon, so you are, hoax! You know, you'll be damned, so you will, but you will be, carrotty.
Whereapool|4, gayedº that he would have ever the lothstº word,4|
with a sweet me ah err eye ear marie to reat from the jacob's and a slypull at the slidepage would candydissing P. Kevin wont to nibble his mum to me in bewonderment of his chipper chuthor grafficking cyclopes after trigamies pursuiting theirselves and godolphing in fairlove to see around the waste of noland's browne jesus
(|4give thur4| him no quartos!) till that on him so poorin sweat the juggaleer's veins (quench his quill!) in his scrag stud out bursthright tamquam
taughtropes. From this misbelieving facemaker to his noncredible fancyflame. Ask for Bosthoon, late for Mass, pray for the blaablaablack sheep. (Sure, you could rite |4any pippap passage, Eye bet,4| as foyne as that |4moultylousy Erewhigº4| yerself, mick!) Dear and he went on to scripple gentlemine born, milady bread, he would pen for her, he would pine for her, how he would patpun fun for all with his frolicky frowner so and his glumsome grinner otherso. And how are you, waggy? My animal is sorrafool! And trieste, ah trieste ate I my liver! Se non è vero son trovatore. O jerry! He was soso. He was sadfellow. He was mistermysterion. |4|aLike a pyrateº out of pensionceº with a gouvernament job.a| All moanday, tearsday,º wailsday, thumpsdayº, frightday, shatterday till the fear of the Law.4| Look at his twitchers! He was quisquis, floored on his plankraft of shittim wood. Look at him! Want more ashes|4, griperº4|? Now he was lying low on his rawside laying siege to goblin castle. And now he was laying him long on his laughside lying sack to croakpartridge. |4(Be thouº wars of his intestions!º
quothsº the reverend bishop Lynch.)º4| Ann opes too soon ear. If you could me lendtill the price of a plate of poultice. |4Punked.4| With best apolojigs to self for the clericals and again |4trispassing begs guerdon for |abistrispassing bistrispissingºa|4| on your bunificence. Well, wiggywiggywagtail, and how are you, yaggy? |4With a capital Tea for Thirst.4| Blott.
Now (brush your saton hat, son of a Butt! She's mine |4beº Skibbering's eagles,º4| sweet tart of Whiteknees Archway) watch him signing away in happynest complete. Intricatedly in years, jirryalimpaloop. And i Romain to fallthere at bare feet, hurryaswormarose. Hp u bn gd grl. Und alws my thts. To be continued. Anon.
And ook, ook, fanky! This is how San Holypolypools.
And this|4, pardonsky!,º4| is the way Romeopullupaleaps. Pose the pen, man, way me does. Way Ole Missa Yellatruth fust show me how. |4Bould strokes for your life! This is Steal, thisº is Barke, this is Starn,º this is Swhipt, this is Wiled, this is Pshaw, this areº Doublinbayates.4| And this, regard!, is how Chawleses Skewered paraparnelligoes.
But (that Jacoby feeling again |4for forebittenº fruit4|! and Kevvy |4too4| just loves his
puppadums!) after all his meddlied muddlingisms, thee faroots hof cullchaw end ate citrawn, woodint wun able rep of the triperforator awlrite through his pergaman do for the selfchuruls smarter like it done for manny another
|4unpiousº4| of the hairydary quite quandary firstlings could not but reckon in his adder's way our frankson who, to be plain, was misocain. Wince
wan's won! Rip! And his countinghands rose.