ULYSSES
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(U84 12.525-678)
Theº last farewell was affecting in
the extreme. From the belfries far and near the
|1funeral
funereal1|
deathbell boomed
|1unceasingly1|
while all around the gloomy precincts there rolled the ominous warning of a
hundred muffled drums
|1punctuated
by the hollow booming of pieces of
ordnance1|. The loud
crashes of thunder and the frequent flashes of lightning which lit up the
ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its supernatural pomp to the already gruesome function.
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a
Aº torrential rain poured down from the
floodgates of
|1heaven
the angry
heavens1| upon the
bared heads of the multitude which numbered at least five hundred and fifty
thousand. The erudite prelate who administered the last comforts of religion to
the hero martyr knelt in a most christian spirit in a pool of muddy water, his
cassock above his hoary head, and offered up
|1alternate1|
prayers of supplication. Hard by the block stood the grim
be figure of the
executioner, his visage being concealed in a ten gallon pot
|1in
which
with1|
two round eyeholes through which his
|1gruesome
glowering1|
eyes glared furiously. As he awaited the final sign he tested the edge of his
horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny arm or decapitated in rapid
succession a flock of sheep which had been
|1thoughtfully1|
provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office.
|1On a
handsome mahogany table near him were
|aneatlya|
arranged the
quartering knife
the various finely tempered disembowelling
|aapparatus
and
appliances,a| a terra cotta
saucepan
|ablanka|
for the reception of the colon, blind intestine, appendix, etc
|awhen successfully
extricateda| and two large
milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most noble victim.
|aThe house steward of the
amalgatedº cats' and dogs' home
stood was in
attendance to convey these vessels when
replenished to
that useful institution. Quite an excellent
|bbreakfast
repastb| consisting of
rashers & eggs, fried rumpsteak & onions
|bdelicious hot
|cbreakfastc|
rolls & butterb| and
invigorating tea had been
|bconsideratelyb|
provided by the authorities for the consumption of the central figure of the
tragedy but he expressed the dying wish (immediately acceded to) that the meal
should be divided
|bequallyb|
among the members of the
sick & indigent
roomkeepers
|bof
the city
associationb| as a token of
his regard &
esteem.a|1| The non
plus ultra of emotion was reached when
|1blank1|
the blushing bride elect burst through the serried ranks of the bystanders and
flung herself into
upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to die for her sake. She hung about
his neck and kissed passionately the different suitable areas which the
decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach.
|1The
hero folded her
|alovely
willowya| form in a loving
embrace, murmuring fondly “Sheila, my own”. Encouraged by the use of
her christian name1| She swore to him as they
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mingledº the salt streams of their
tears that she would cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero
boy however frequently she might marry in the course of her
|1future
after1|
life. She brought back to his
|1memory
recollection1|
the days gone by, the happy days of blissful childhood together
|1by the
banks of the Anna
Liffey1|
and when they
|1had1|
indulged in the innocent pastimes of the young and, forgetful of the dreadful
present, they laughed heartily together, all the bystanders, including the
venerable
|1prelate
|acleric
pastora|1| joining in
the general merriment. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their
hands for the last last time. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their eyes and
the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, burst into
heartrending
sobs, not the least affected being the aged
|1pastor
prebendary1|
himself. Nay, even, the grim provost marshal
|1sir
colonel lieutenant-Colonel Tomkin
|aFrenchmullen
Tomlinsona|1| who
presided on the sad occasion, he who had shot countless sepoys from the
cannonmouth without flinching, could not now restrain his emotion. With his
mailed gauntlet he brushed away a furtive tear and was heard by those privileged burghers
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whoº happened to be in his immediate
entourage to murmur to himself in
|1a1|
faltering undertone:
— |1God1| Blame me if |1that there dona beent the she beent a1| clinker, that there dona. It makes me kind of sad, it does, cos I thinks of my old |1Hirish loveydovey1| dona mashtub |1what's waiting for me1| down Limehouse way.