ULYSSES

Fair Copy

Copy manuscript, May 1920, draft level 4'

MS Rosenbach Museum Draft details


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Deisiol Holles Eamus. Deisiol Holles Eamus. Deisiol Holles Eamus.

Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit. Send us bright one, light one, Horhorn, quickening and wombfruit

Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa! Hoopsa boyaboy hoopsa!

Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little perceptive concerning whatsoever matters are being held as most profitably by mortals with sapience endowed to be studied who is ignorant of that which the most in doctrine erudite and certainly by reason of that in them high mind's ornament deserving of veneration constantly maintain when by general consent they affirm that, other circumstances being equal, by no exterior splendour is the prosperity of a nation more efficaciously asserted than by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that proliferent continuance which of evils the chief if it be absent when fortunately present constitutes the certain sign of |4'omnipollent4'| nature's |4'benevolent incorrupted4'| benediction. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that exterior splendour may be surface of a downwardtending and lutulent reality or on the contrary |4'is there anyone so anyone so is there4'| unilluminated as not to perceive
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that as no nature's boon can contend against the bounty of increase so it behoves every most just citizen to become the admonisher and exhortator of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an inverecund habit shall have gradually traduced the honourable by ancestors transmitted customs to |4'such a that thither of4'| profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardihood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can |4'to for4'| anyone be than to oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with diminution's menace that exalted function of reiteratedly procreating ever irrevocably enjoined?

It is not why therefore we shall wonder if, as the best historians relate, among the Celts, who nothing that was not in its nature admirable admired, the art of medicine shall have been highly honoured. Not to speak of hostels, leperyards, sweating chambers, plaguegraves, their greatest doctors, the O'Shiels, the O'Hickey's, the O'Lees, have sedulously set down the divers methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boyconnell flux. Certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted (whether by
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preconsideration or as the maturation of expirience experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present conguedº to render manifest) whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that allhardest of woman's woman hour chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided. To

To her nothing already then and thenceforward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferent mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity gods mortals generation to befit them her beholding, when the case was so hoving itself, parturient in vehicle |4'thither thereward4'| carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile. O thing of |4'wise prudent4'| nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother, that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt!

Before born the babe |4'bliss4'| had |4'bliss4'|. Within womb won he worship. Whatever in that one case done was commodiously done was. A couch and food by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful, cleanest swaddles as though forthbringing were now done and by |4'their wise4'| foresight set: but |4'thereto to this no less4'| also of what drugs there is need and surgical
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implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images, divine and human, the cogitation of which by sejunct females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sunbright wellbuilt fair home of mothers when, ostensibly far gone and reproductitive, it is come by her thereto to lie in, her term up.

Some man that wayfaring was stood by housedoor at night's oncoming. Of Israel's folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared. Stark ruth of man his errand that him lone led to that house.

Of that house A. Horne is lord. Seventy beds keeps he there teeming mothers are wont that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hale as God's angel to Mary quoth. Watchers twey there walk, white sisters in ward sleepless. Smarts they still, sickness soothing: in twelve moons thrice an hundred. Truest bedthanes they twain are, for Horne holding wariest ward.

In ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mildheartedº eft rising with swire ywimpled to him her gate wide undid. Lo, levin leaping lightened lightens in eyeblink Ireland's westward welkin. Full she drad that God the wreaker Wreaker all mankind would fordo with water for his evil sins. Christ's rood made she on breastbone and him drew that he would rathe infare under her thatch. That man her will wotting worthful went in Horne's house.

Loth to irk in
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Horne's hall hat holding the wa seeker stood. On her stow he ere was living with dear wife and lovesome daughter that then over land and seafloor nine years had long outwandered. Once her in townhithe meeting he to her bow had not doffed. Her to forgive now he craved with good ground of her allowed, that that of him swiftseen face, hers, so young then had looked. Light swift her eyes kindled, bloom of blushes his word winning.

As her eyes then ongot his weeds swart for that sorrow she feared. Glad after she was that ere adread was. Her he asked if O'Hare Doctor from far coast tidings sent and she with grameful sigh him answered that O'Hare Doctor in heaven was. Sorry was the man that word to hear that him so heavied in bowels ruthful. All she there told him ruing death for so young man algate sore unwilling God's rightwiseness to withsay. She said that he had a fair sweet death through God His goodness with masspriest to be shriven, holy housel and sick men's oil to his limbs. The man then right earnest asked the nun of which death the man was died and the nun answered him and said that he was died through bellycrab in Mona Island three year agone come Yule and she prayed to God Allruthful to have his dear soul in his undeathlinessº. He heard her sad words in held hat, sad staring. So stood they there both awhile in wanhope sorrowingº one with other.

Therefore, everyman,
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look to that last end which is thy death and the dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came naked forth of his woman's womb so naked shall he wend him at the last for to go as he came.

The man that was come in to the house then spoke to the nursingwoman and he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there in childbed. The nursingwoman answered him and said that that woman was in throes now full three days and that it would be a hard birth unneth to bear but that now in a little it would be. She said thereto that she had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman's birth. The man hearkened Then she set it all forth to him for because she knew the man that time was had lived near her house. The man hearkened to her words for he felt with wonder women's woe in the travail that they have of motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid. Nine twelve bloodflows chiding her childless.

And whiles they spokeº the door of the castle was opened and there nighed them near a mickle noise as of many that sat there at meat. And there came against the place as they stood a young learning knight yclept Dixon. And the traveller Leopold was couth to him sithen it had happed that they
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had had ado each with other in the house of miesicord where this learning knight lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him. And him for which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and oil as much as he might suffice. And he said now he should go into the castle for to make merry with them. And the traveller Leopold said he should go other whither for he was a man of cautels and a subtile. Also the lady was of his avis and repreved the learning knight though she trowed well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtility. But the learningknight would not hear say nay nor do her mandement ne have him in aught contrarious to his list and he said how it was a marvellous castle. And the traveller Leopold went into the castle to rest for a space being sore of limb after many marches |4'in divers lands4'| environing and sometime venery.

And in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of Finlandy and it was upheld by four dwarfmen of that country but they durst not move more for enchantment. And on this board were frightful swords and knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white flames that they fix then in the horns of buffalos and stags that there abound marvellously. And there were vessels that are wrought by magic out of seasand and the air by a
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warlock with his breath that he blases into them like bubbleware. |4'And full fair cheer and rich was on the board that no wight could devise a fuller ne richerº4'| And there we was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in which lay strange fishes withouten heads though misbelieving men nie that this be possible things. without they see it yet natheless they are so. And they lie in an oily water brought from Portugal land because of the fatness that therein is which is like the liquor of the olivepress. And also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of fecund wheatkidneys of Chaldee which, by aid. of certain angry juices that they do in to it swells up wondrously like a vast mountain. And they teach the serpents there to entwine themselvesº up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a brewage like to mead. And the learningknight let pour for the traveller a draught and halp thereto the while all they that were there drank every each. And the traveller Leopold did up his vizor for to pleasure him and took apertly somewhat in amity. for he never drank no manner of mead and anon full privily he voided the more part in his neighbour glass and his neighbour nist not of this wile a. And he sat down in the castle with them to rest awhile. Thanked be Almighty God.

This meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at the reverence of Jesu our alther liege Lord to leave their wassailing for there was above one quick with child, a gentle dame, whose time hied fast. Sir Leopold heard
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in the upfloor cry on high and he wondered what cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel, said he, it be not come ere or now. Meseemsº it dureth overlong. And he was ware and saw a franklin that hight Lenehan on that side the table that was older than any |4'of the4'| tother and for that they were knights virtuous in the one emprise and eke by cause that he was elder he spoke to him fully gently. But, said he, or it be long too she will bring forth by God His bounty and have joy for she hath waited marvellous long. And the franklin that had drunken said, Expecting each moment to be her next. Also he took the cup that stood tofore him for him needed never none asking nor desiring of him to drink and Now drink, said he, fully delectably and he quaffed as far as he might to their both's health for he was a passing good man of his lustiness. And sir Leopold that was the goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars' hall and that was the meekest man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly un hand under hen and that was the very gentlest knight that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup. Woman's woe with wonder pondering.

Now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be drunken an they might. There was a sort of scholars along either side the board, that is to wit, Dixon yclept junior with other his fellows Lynch and madden Madden, scholars of medicine and the franklin that hight Lenehan and one from Alba Longa, one Crotthers, and young Stephen, that had mien of a frere that was at head of the board and Costello that men clepen Punch
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Costello all long of a mastery of him erewhile gested (and of all them reserved young Stephen he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead) and beside the meek sir Leopold. But on young Malachi they waited for that he promised to have come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his avow. And sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his languor becalmed him there after longest wanderings insomuch as they feasted him for that time in the honourablest manner. Ruth red him, love led on with will to wander lot to leave.

For they were right witty scholars. And he heard their aresouns each gen other as touching birth and righteousness, young Madden maintaining that put such case it were hard the wife to die (for so it had fallen out a matter of some year agone with a woman of Eblana in Horne's house that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her death all leeches and pothecaries had taken counsel of her case. And they said farther she should live because in the beginning, they said, the woman should bring forth in pain and wherefore they that were of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die. And not few and of these was |4'young4'| Lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other howbeit
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the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy. This was scant said but all cried with one acclaim the wife should live sith she was God's and the babe to die. And they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the franklin Lenehan was prompt to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack. Then young Madden showed all the whole affair and when she |4'said4'| how that she was dead and how for holy religion sake her goodman husband would not let her death whereby they were all wondrous grieved. To whom young Stephen had these words following,: Murmur |4'sirs,4'| is eke oft among lay folk. |4'Sirs, pity is meet always but if here for this unborn child.4'| Both babe and mother now glorify Our Maker, the one in limbo gloom, the other in purgefire. But what of those |4'unreadpossibled Godpossibled4'| souls that we daily impossibilise. For sirs, he said, our lust is brief. We are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we. Then said Dixon junior to Punch Costello wist he what ends. But he had overmuch drunken and the best word he could have of him was that he would ever dishonest a woman whoso she were or wife or maid or leman if so be it fortuned him to be delivered of his spleen of |4'lustihood lustihead4'|. Whereat |4'young Stephen Crotthers of Alba4'| Longa sang young Malachi's praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millenium he cometh by his horn. the other all this while, pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice him, witnessing all and several by saint Bastard his engines that he was
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able by grace of his privities to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do. Thereat laughed they all right jocundly only young Stephen and sir Leopold which never durst laugh too open by reason of a strange humour which he would not bewray and also for that he rued for her that bare whoso she might be or wheresoever. Then spoke young Stephen orgulous of mother church that would cast him from her bosom, of law of canons, of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or, as Virgilius saith, by the influence of the occident or peradventure in her bath according to the opinion of Averroes and Moses Maimonides. He said also how at the end of the second month a human souls was infused and how in all our heavenly mother foldeth every souls for God's greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was but a dam to bear beastly should die by canon for so saith he that holdeth the fisherman's seal even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all ages founded. All they bachelors then asked of sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as take life to save life. A wariness of mind he would answer as fitted all and, laying hand to jaw, he said dissembling that as it was informed him and agreeing also with his experience of so seldomseen an accident it was good for that mother Church belike at one blow had birth and death pence. That is truth, said Dixon, and, or I err, a pregnant word. In such sort deliverly he scaped their question. Which hearing young Stephen was a marvellous glad man and he averred that who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the
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Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared eftsoons.

But sir Leopold was passing grave maugre his word by cause he still had pity of the terrorcausing shrieking of shrill women in their labour and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had borne him an only manchild which on his eleventh day on live and no man of art could save so dark is destiny. And she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and to his burial, sore weeping, did him on a fair corselet of lamb's wool, the flower of the flock lest he might perish utterly and lie akeled (for it was that time about the midst of the winter) and now sir Leopold that had of his body no manchild for an heir looked upon him his friend's son, and was shut up in sorrow for his forepassed happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage (for all accounted him of real parts) so grieved he also in no less measure for young Stephen for that he lived riotously with those wastrels and murdered his goods with whores.

About that present time young Stephen filled all cups that stood empty so as then remained but little mo if the prudenter had not shadowed their approach from him that still plied it very busily who, praying for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff, he gave them for a pledge the vicar of Christ which also, as he said, vicar of Bray. Now drink we, quod he, of this mazer and quaff we this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body but my soul's bodiment |4'and leave. Leave4'| ye fraction of bread to them that live by bread alone. Be not afeard neither for any pain for this will more comfort than the other will dismay. See ye here. And he showed them glistering coins |4'of the tribute4'| and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen shilling, that he had,
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said, for a song which he writ. They all admired to see the foresaid riches in such dearth of money as was herebefore. His words were then these as followeth: Know all men, he said, time's ruins build eternity's mansions. What means this? Desire's wind blasts the thorntree and after it becomes from a brambelbush to be a rose on the rood of time. Mark me now. In woman's womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. This is the postcreation. Omnis caro ad te veniet. No question but her name is puissant who aventried the dear corse of our Agenbuyer, Healer and Herd, our mighty mother and mother most venerable and Bernardus saith aptly that She hath an omnipotentia deiparae supplex, that is to wit, an almightiness of petition. because she is the second Eve |4'that won us4'|, saith Augustine too, whereas that other, our grandam, which we are linked up with by successive anastomosis of navelcords sold us all, lock, stock and barrel, for a penny pippin. But here is the matter now. Or she knew him, that second I say, and was but creature of her creature, vergine madre figlia di tuo figlio, or she knew him not and then stands she in the one denial or ignorance with Peter Piscator who lives in the house that Jack built and with Joseph the joiner patron of the happy demise of all unhappy marriages, parceque M. Léo Taxil nous a dit que qui l'avait mise dans cette fichue position c'était ce sacré pigéon, ventre de Dieu! Entweder transubstantiality oder consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality. All cried upon it for a very scurvy word. A pregnancy without joy, he said, a birth without pangs, a body without blemish, a belly without
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bigness. Let the lewd with faith and fervour worship. With will will we withsay, withstand.

Hereupon Punch Costello dinged with his fist upon the board and would sing a bawdy catch Staboo Stabella about a wench that was put in pod of a jolly swashbuckler in Almany which he did straightways now attack:

The first three months she was not well, Staboo,

when here nurse Quigley from the door angerly bid them hist ye should shame you nor was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have all orderly against lord Andrew came as she was jealous that no turmoil might shorten the honour of her guard. It was an ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and a Christian walking, in habit dun beseeming her megrims and wrinkled visage, nor did her hortative want of it effect for incontinently Punch Costello was of them all embraided and they reclaimed him civil rudeness some and shaked him with menace of blandishments others whiles they all chode with him, a murrain seize the dolt, what a devil he would be at, thou chuff, thou puny, |4'thou got in |athe sink, peasestraw,a|4'| thou chitterling, thou dykedropt, thou abortion thou, to shut up his drunken drool out of that like a curse of God ape., the good sir Leopold that had for his cognisance the flower of quiet, margerain gentle, advising also the time's occasion as most sacred and most worthy to be most sacred. In Horne's house rest should reign.

To be short this passage was scarce by when Master Dixon of Mary's, gently grinning, asked young Stephen what was the reason why he had not cided to take friar's vows and he answered him obedience in the womb, chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his
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days. Master Lenehan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how, as he heard hereof counted, he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all intershowed it too, waxing merry and toasting his fathership. But he said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was the eternal son and ever virgin. Thereat mirth grew in them the more and they rehearsed to him his curious rite of wedlock for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses, she to be in guise of white and saffron, her groom in white and grain, with burning of nards and tapers, on a bridebed while clerks sung kyries and the anthem Ut novetur sexus omnis corporis mysterium till she was there unmaided. He gave them then a much admirable hymen minim by those delicate poets Master John Feltcher Fletcher and Master Francis Beaumont that is in their Maid's Tragedy that was writ for a like twining of lovers: To bed, to bed was the burden of it to be played with accompanable concent upon the virginals. Well met they were, said Master Dixon, by, harkee, better were they named Beau Mount and Lecher for, by my troth, of such a mingling much might come. Young Stephen said indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life ran very high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it. Greater love than this, he said, no man hath that a man lay down his wife for his friend. Go thou and do likewise. Thus, or words to that effect, spake Zarathustra, sometime regius professor of
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French letters to the university of Oxtail. nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden. Bring a stranger within thy tower it will go hard but thou hast the secondbest bed. Orate, fratres, pro memetipso. And all the people shall say, Amen. Remember|4', Erin,4'| thy generations and thy days of old, how thou settedst like by Me and my word, and broughtest broughtedst in a stranger |4'in to4'| my gates to commit fornication in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Jeshurum. Thereforeº hast thou sinned against |4'the my4'| light and hast made me, thy lord, to be the slave of servants. Return, return, O Clan Milly! Why hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a merchant of jalap and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of dark speech with whom thy daughters did commit adultery? Look forth now, my people, upon the land of behest, even from Horeb and from Pisgah and from the Horns of Hatten unto a land flowing with milk and money |4'but. But4'| thou hast filled my soul with bitterness and thou hast taken from me the sun and the moon |4'and. And4'| I am left in |4'darkness dark ways4'|, a solitary, and with bitter ashes hast thou kissed my mouth. This tenebrosity of the interior, he proceeded to say, hath not been illumined by the wit of the septuagint nor as much as mentioned for the Orient from on high Who brake hell's gates visited a darkness which was foraneous. Assuefaction makes minorates atrocities and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion. The adiaphane in the noon of life is an Egypt's plague which in the nights of prenativity and postmortemity is their most proper ubi and
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quomodo. And as the ends and finalities of all things accords in some mean and measure with their inceptions and originals, that same multiplicit concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that minishing and ablation towards the final which is agreeable unto |4'their |aitsa|4'| nature so is it with our being. The aged sisters draw us into life: we wail, batten, sport, slip, clasp, sudder, dwindle, die: over us dead they bend. First, saved from waters of old Nile, among bulrushes, a bed of fasciated wattles: at last a cavity of a |4'hill mountain4'|, occulted, amid the conclamation of the hillcat and the ossifrage. And as no man knows the ubicity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tophet or to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of our whoness hath fetched his whenceness.

Thereto Punch Costello roared out mainly, Etienne, chanson, but he loudly bid them, lo, wisdom hath built herself a house, this vast majestic vault, the crystal palace of the Creator, all in applepie order, a penny for him as finds the pea.

— Behold the mansion reared by dedal Jack
See the malt stored in many a refluent sack
In the proud cirque of Ivan's bivouac.

A black crack of noise in the street here, alack, bawled back. Loud on left Thor thundered: in anger awful the hammerhurler. And Master Lynch bade him have a care to witwanton as the god self was angered for his hellprate and paganry. And he that had |4'erst4'| challenged to be so doughty
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waxed |4'pale wan4'| as they might all mark and shrank together and his pitch that was before so haught uplift was now of a sudden quite plucked down and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumour of that storm. Then did some mock and some jeer and Punch Costello fell hard again to his yale which Master Lenehan vowed he would do after and he was indeed but a word and a blow on any the least colour. But the braggart boaster cried that an old Nobodaddy was in his cups it was muchwhat indifferent and he would not lag behind his lead. But this was only to dye his desperation as cowed he crouched in Horne's hall. He drank indeed at one draught to pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain whiles, knocked him on his ribs and Master Bloom, at the braggart's side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear, |4'advertising4'| how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid, look you, having taken place and all of the order of a natural phenomenon.

But was young Boasthard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? No, for he |4'knew his own wretchedness had in his bosom that gnawing rat Wretchedness4'| which could not by words be done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But could he not have endeavoured to have found again as in his youth the |4'natural the bottle4'| piety that then he lived withal? Indeed no for grace Grace was not there to give it. Heard he then in that clap the voice of the god, Bringforth, or, what Calmer said, a hubbub of Phenomenon? Heard? Why
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could not but hear unless he had |4'sealed plugged4'| him up the tube Understanding (which he had not done). For through that tube he saw that he was in the land of Phenomenon where he must for a certain one day die as he was like the rest too a passing show. And would he not accept to die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he though he must nor would he make more shows according as men do with wives which Phenomenon has commanded them to do by the book Law. Then wotted he nought of that other land which is called Believe on Me that is the land of promise which behoves to the king Delightful and shall be for ever where there is |4'neither no4'| death and no birth neither wiving nor mothering at which all shall come as many as believe on it? Yes, Pious had told him of that land and Chaste had pointed him to the way but the reason was that in the way he fell in with a whore of an eyepleasing exterior whose name, she said, is Bird-in-the-Hand and she beguiled him |4'wrongways4'| from the true path by her flatteries to him as Ho, you pretty man. Turn aside hither and I will show you a |4'brave4'| place, and she lay at him so flatteringly that she had him in her grot of shame which is named Two in the Bush or, by some learned men also, Carnal Concupiscence.

This was it what all that company that sat there at commons in Manse of Mothers the most lusted after and if they met with this whore Bird in the Hand (which was within all foul plagues, monsters and a wicked devil) they would strain the last but they would make at her and know her. For
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regarding Believe on Me they said it was nought else but notion and they could conceive no thought of it for, first, Two in the Bush whither she ticed them was |4'the in4'| very goodliest grot and in it were four pillows on which was written Dalliance and Loth to Brood and Chamber Delights and Harlotry and, second, for that foul plague Allpox and the monsters they cared not for them for Preservative had given them a stout shield of oxengut and, third, that they might take no hurt neither from Offspring that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield which was named Killchild. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr Sometimes Godly and Mr Cavil, Mr Ape Swillale, Mr False Franklin, Mr Dainty Dixon, Young Boasthard and Mr Cautious Calmer. Wherein, O wretched company were ye all deceived for that was the voice of the god that was in a very grievous rage that he would presently lift his arm up and spill their souls for their abuses and their spillings done by them contrariwise to his word which forth to bring brenningly biddeth.

So Thursday sixteenth June Patk. Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy and after hard drought, please God, rained, a bargeman coming in by water a fifty mile or thereabout with turf saying the seed won't sprouts, fields athirst, very sadcoloured and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Hard to breathe and all the young quicks clean consumed without sprinkle this long while back as no man remembered to be without. The rosy buds all gone brown and spread out blobs and on the hills nought but dry flag and faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world saying, for aught they knew, the big wind of last February that did havoc the land so pitifully a small
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thing beside this barrenness. But by and by, as said this evening after sundown the wind sitting in the west, biggish swollen clouds to be seen as the night increased and the weatherwise poring up at them and some sheet lightnings at first and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke with a long thunder and in a brace of shakes all running pellmell within door for the smoking shower, the men making shelter for their straws with a clout or kerchief, womenfolk skipping off with kirtles catched up soon as the pour came. In Ely place, Baggot street, |4'Duke's lawn4'| thence through Merrion green up to Holles street a swash of water flowing that was before brave bone dry but no more cracks after that first. Over against the Rt. Hon. Mr. Justice Fitzgibbon's door (that is to sit with Mr Healy, the lawyer, upon the college lands) Mal. Mulligan chanced against Al. Bannon that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home and he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for., but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of her age, and so both together on to Horne's. There Leop. Bloom of Crawford's journal sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon jun, scholar of my lady of Mercy's, Vin. Linch Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will. Madden, T. Lenehan, very sad about a racer he fancied and Stephen D. Leop. Bloom there for a languor he had but was now better, he having dreamed |4'this night tonight4'| a strange fancy of his dame Mrs Moll. in with red slippers on in a pair of Turkish trunks which is thought by those in ken to be for an omen of change & Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwives sore put and can't
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deliver, she crazed for a bowl of riceslop that is a shrewd drier up of the insides and should be a bullyboy by the knocks, they say, but God give her soon issue. 'Tis her ninth chick to life, as I hear, |4'and Lady day bit off her last's nails that was then a 12 monthº4'| and her hub, fifty odd, a methodist, but is out in a punt |4'every any faire4'| sabbath with two boys under Bullock point trailing for flounders |4'or pollocks4'|. In sum a infinite great fall of rain and all refreshed and will much increase the harvest yet some believe after wind and water fire shall come for a prognostication of Malachi's almanac to have three things in all but this a mere fetch with out bottom of reason for old crones and bairns yet sometimes they are found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how.

With this came up Lenehan to the hither end of the table to say how the letter was in that night's gazette and he made a show to find it about him (for he swore with an oath that he had peen at pains about it) but on Stephen's persuasion he gave over to search and|4', being was4'| bidden to sit near by which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport gentleman that went for a merryandrew or honest pickle and what belonged of women, horseflesh or new scandal |4'in the town4'| he knew (had) it pat. To tell the truth he was mean in fortunes and for the most part hankered about the coffehouses and low taverns with crimps, ostlers, bookies and other rogues of the game or with a chanceable catchpole, often at nights till broad day, of whom he picked up
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loose gossip. He took his ordinary at a boilingcook's and if he had but gotten a mess of broken victuals or a dish of tripes into him with a bare tester in his purse he could always bring himself off with his tongue, some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother's son of them would burst their sides. The other, Costello that is, hearing this talk asked was it poetry or a tale. Faith, no, he says, Frank (that was his name), 'tis all about Kerry cows that are to be butchered along of the plague. But they can go hang, says he with a wink, for me with their bully beef, a pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it and very friendly he offered to take of some salty sprats that stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime and found the place which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharpset. Mort aux Vaches, says Frank then in the French language that had been indentured to a wine and brandyshipper in Bordeaux and was back now with naked pockets and he spoke French like a gentleman too. From a child this Frank had been a donought that his father, a headborough, matriculated at the university to study the mechanics but he took the bit between his feet like a raw colt and was more familiar with the justiciary and the parish beadle than with his volumes. One time he would be a playactor then a |4'sutler then a4'| welsher then he was for the ocean sea or to foot it on the roads with the romany folk, fecking maids' linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. What, says Mr Leopold, with his hands across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter all? I protest
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I saw them but this day morning going to the Liverpool boat, says he. I can scarce believe 'tis so bad, says he. And he had experience of the like brood beasts and of springers, greasy hoggets, meadow auctions and wether wool sales having been at one time an actuary for Mr Joseph Cuffe, a worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for live stock and meadow auctions hard by Mr Gavin Low's yard in Prussia street. I question with you there, says he. More like 'tis the hoose or the timber tongue. Mr Stephen, a little moved but very handsomely told him no such matter and that he had dispatches from the emperor's chief tailtickler, (Doctor Rinderpest), thanking him for the hospitality that was sending over (Doctor R. (v.s)) the bestquoted cowcatcher in all Muscovy with a bolus or two of physic to take the bull by the horns. Come, come, says Mr Vincent, plain dealing. He'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he meddles with a bull that's Irish, says he. Irish by name and irish by nature, says Mr Stephen, and he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English chinashop. I conceive you, says Mr Dixon,. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by farmer Nicholas the bravest cattlebreeder of them all with an emerald ring in his nose. True for you, says Mr Vincent cross the table, and a bullseye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper and a portlier bull, says he, never shit on shamrock. He had horns galore, a coat of cloth of gold and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils so that the women of our island, leaving doughballs and rollingpins, followed after him hanging his
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bulliness in daisychains. What for that, says Mr Dixon, but before he came over farmer Nicholas that was a eunuch himself had him properly gelded by seven doctors that were no better off than himself. So be off now, says he, and do all my cousin german the lord Harry tells and take a farmer's blessing, and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap and the blessing stood him friend, says Mr Vincent, for to make he taught him a trick worth two of the other so that maid, wife, abbess and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse or get a lick on the nape from his holy tongue than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his word: And they dressed him, says he, in a point shift and petticoat with a tippet and ruffles and clipped his forelocks and rubbed him all over with spermacetic oil and built stables for him at every turn of the road with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market so that he doss and dung to his heart's content. By this time the father of the faithful (for so they called) was so heavy that he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which our dames and damsels brought him his fodder in their apronlaps and as soon as his belly was full, he used to rear up on his hind quarters to show their ladyships a mystery and roar and bellow out of him in bull's language and they all after him. Ay, says another, and so pampered was he that he would have nought to grow in all the land but green grass for himself (for that was the only colour to his mind) and there was a board put up on a hillock in the middle
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of the island with a printed notice, saying: By the Lord Harry, Green is the grass that grows on the ground. And, says Mr Dixon, if ever he got scent of a cattleraider in Sligo or a husbandman that was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed out he run amok over half the countryside rooting up with his horns what was planted and all by lord Harry's orders. There was bad blood between them at one time, says Mr Vincent, and the lord Harry called farmer Nicholas all the old Nicks in the world and an old whoremaster that kept seven trulls in his house and I'll make that animal smell hell, says he, swearing h with the help of that good pizzle my father left me. But one evening, says Mr Dixon, when the lord Harry was cleaning his royal pelt to go to dinner after winning a boatrace (he had spade oars for himself but the first rule of the course was that the others were to row with pitchforks) he discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull and on picking up a blackthumbed chapbook that he kept in the pantry he found sure enough that he was a lefthanded descendant of the famous champion bull of the Romans, Bos Bovum, which is good bog latin Latin for Boss of the Show. After that, says Mr Vincent, the lord Harry baptised himself by that name put his head into a cow's drinking trough in the presence of all the |4'court courtiers4'| and |4'taking it out again4'| told them all his new name., then, with the water running off him, he got into an old smock and skirt that had belonged to his grandmother and got a grammar of the bull's
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language to study but he could never learn a word of it except the first personal pronoun which he copied out big and if he went out for a stroll he filled his skirt pockets with chalk to write it upon what took his fancy, the side of a rock or a teahouse table or a bale of cotton or a corkfloat. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as fast friends as an arse and a shirt. They were, says Mr Stephen, and the end was that the men of the island seeing no help was toward, as the ungrate women were all of one mind, made a wherry raft, loaded themselves and their bundles of chattels on shipboard, set all masts erect, sprang their luff, set her head on between wind and water, let the bullgine run, ran up the jolly Roger |4'weighed her anchor4'| and pushed off to recover the main of America. Which was the occasion, says Mr Vincent, of the composing by a boatswain of that rollicking chanty:

Pope Peter's but a pissabed.
A man's a man for a' that.

Our worthy acquaintance Mr Malachi Mulligan now appeared in the doorway as the students were finishing their apologue accompanied |4'by with4'| a friend of his whom he had just rencountered, a young gentleman, his name Bannon who had late come to town, it being his intention to buy a colour or a cornetcy in the fencibles and list for the wars. Mr Mulligan was civil enough to express some relish of it and all the more as it jumped with a project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched on. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards which he had had printed that day at blank bearing a legend printed in fair italics: Mr Malachi Mulligan,. Fertiliser
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and Incubator. Lambay Island. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of sir Fopling Popinjay and sir Milksop Quidnunc in town and to devote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Well, let us hear of it, good my friend, said Mr Dixon. Come, be seated, both. 'Tis as cheap sitting as standing. Mr Mulligan accepted of the invitation and, expatiatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by a considerationº of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal vexations or to parsimony as well as whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities unread acquired. It grieved him plaguily, he said, to see the nuptial couch defrauded of its dearest pledges: and to reflect upon so many agreeable females with rich jointures, a prey to the vilest bonzes, who hide their flambeau under a bushel in |4'some an4'| uncongenial cloister or lose their womanly bloom in the embraces of some unaccountableº muskin when they might multiply the inlets of happiness, sacrificing the inestimableº jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress, this, he assured them, made his heart weep. To meet this inconvenient (which he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat) having advised with certain
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counsellors of worth he had resolved to purchase in fee simple for ever the freehold of Lambay island from its owner count Anthony Considine, a gentleman of note much in favour with our high church party. He proposed to set up there a national fertilising farm to be named Omphalos and to offer his dutiful yeoman services for the fecundation of any female of what grade of life soever who should there to direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the functions of her natural. Money was no object, he said, nor would he take a penny for his pains: |4'and |aeven the Thea|4'| poorest kitchenwench no less than the opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions and their tempers were warm persuaders for their petitions, would find in him their man. For his nourishment, he said, he would feed himself exclusively on the fish and coneys there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents having been |4'highly4'| recommended |4'highly4'| for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade or two of mace. or a paprick nut. After this homily which he delivered with much warmth of asseveration Mr Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief with which he had shielded it. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the rain and for all their mending of their pace had taken water as might be observed by Mr Mulligan's smallclothes of hodden grey which was now somewhat piebald. His project meanwhile was very favourably entertained by his auditors and won
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hearty eulogies from all though Mr Dixon of Mary's excepted to it, asking with a finicking air did he purpose also to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr Mulligan however made court to the scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics which, as it dwelt upon his memory, seemed to him a sound and cogent support of his contention: Talis ac tanta depravatio huius seculi, O quirites, ut matresfamiliarumº nostrae lascivas semiviri libici cuiuslibet titillationes testibus ponderosis atque excelsis erectionibus centurionum Romanorum magnopere anteponunt while for those of ruder wit he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more suitable to their relish, the buck and doe of the forest glade, the farmyard drake and duck.

Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper man of person he now applied himself to his dress with animadversions of some heat upon the sudden shower while the company lavished their encomiumsº upon the project he had advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a passage that had late befallen him could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbour. Mr Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for whom were the those loaves and fishes and, seeing the strangers, he made him a civil bow and said, Pray, sir, was you in need of any professional assistance we could give? Who, upon his offer, thanked him very heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he was come
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there about a lady, now an inmate of Horne's house that was in an interesting condition, poor ladyº, from woman's woe (and here he fetched a deep sigh) to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask if Mr Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventripotence, upon which he rallied him, betokened an ovoblastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb or was due, as with the noted physician, Mr Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach. For answer Mr Mulligan smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan (the most excellent creature of her sex though 'tis pity she's a trollop): There's a belly that never bore a bastard. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. He had run on in the same vein of mimicry but for some larum in the antechamber.

Here the listener who was none other than the Scotch student, a little fume of a fellow, blond as a blank, congratulated in the liveliest fashion with the young gentleman and, interrupting the narrative at a salient point, having desired his visavis with a polite beck to have the obligingnessº to pass him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by a questioning poise of the head (a whole century of polite breeding had not achieved so nice a gesture) to which was united an equivalent but contrary
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balance of the head asked the narrator as plainly as was ever done in words if he might treat him with a cup of it. Mais bien sur, said he cheerily. That you may and very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. But was I left with but a crust in my wallet and cupful of water from the well, my God, I would accept of them and find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground and give thanks to the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips and took a complacent draught of the cordial, slicked his hair and, opening his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk riband, that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. Gazing upon those features with a world of tenderness, Ah, Monsieur, he said, had you but beheld her at that affecting instant with her dainty tucker and her coquette cap (a gift for her feastday as she told me prettily) in such an artless disorder, of so melting a tenderness, even you, Monsieur, had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of such an enemy or to quit the field for ever. I declare, I was never so touched in all my life. Thrice happy will he be whom that amiable creature will bless with her favours. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again. Beneficent disseminator of blessings to all thy creatures, how great and universal must be that sweetest of thy tyrannies which can hold
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in thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished coxcomb, the lover in the heyday of reckless fashion and the husband of maturer years. But I wander from the point. How mingled and imperfect are all our sublunary joys. Maledicity! he exclaimed in anguish. Would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my cloak along. I could weep to think of it. Then, though it had poured seven showers, we were neither of us a penny the worse. But beshrew me, he cried, clapping hand to his forehead, tomorrow will be a new day and I know of a vendeur de capotes Monsieur Poyntz from whom I can have for a livre as pretty a cloak as ever kept a lady from wetting. Tut, cries Le Fecondateur, tripping in, my friend Monsieur Moore that most accomplished travellerº (I have just cracked a bottle with him in a circle of the best wits of the town) is my authority that in Cape Horn they have a rain that will wet through any, even the stoutest cloak. A drenching of that violence, he tells me, has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest posthaste to another world. Pooh! A livre! cries Monsieur Lynch. The clumsy things are dear at a sou. A singler sunshade, were it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stopgaps. No woman of any wit would wear one. My dear Kitty told me today that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in such an ark of salvation for, as she reminded me, (blushing piquantly as she
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whispered in my ear though there was none to catch her words but giddy butterflies) dame Nature has implanted it in our hearts and it has become a household word that il y a deux choses for which the innocence of our original garb, in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties, is the fittest, nay, the only garment. The first, said she (and here my pretty philosopher, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer pavilion of my ear) the first is a bath — But at this point a bell tinkling in the hall cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for the enrichment of our store of knowledge.

Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly a bell rang and, while all were conjecturing what might be the cause, Miss Callan came in and, having spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr Dixon, retired with a profound bow to the company. The presence even for a moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful refrained the humour |4'sallies4'| even of the most licentious but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of ribaldry. Strike me silly, doc said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled. I believe she has rendezvoused you. What, you dog? Have you a way with them? Gad's bud, immensely so, said Mr Lynch. The bedside manner it is that they use in the Mater hospice. As I look to be saved, continued he, I had it from my Kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months. Demme, does not doctor O'Gargle
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chuck the nuns there under the chin. Lawksamercy, doctor, cried the young blood in the primrose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his body, how you do tease a body? |4'Bless me, I'm all of a wibbly wobbly4'| Why, you're as bad as dear little father Cantekissem, that you are! May this pot of ale choke me, cried Costello, if she aint in the family way. I knows a lady what's got a white swelling quick as I claps eyes on her. The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. Merciful providence had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was enceinte which she had borne with a laudable fortitude and she had given birth to a bouncing boy. I want patience, said he, with those who, without wit to enliven or learning to instruct, revile an ennobling profession which is a power for happiness upon the earth. I am positive when I say that, if need were, I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the excellence of her noble exercitations which, so far from being a byword, should be a glorious incentive. What? Malign such an one who is the lustre of our her own sex and the astonishment of ours? And at an instant the most momentous that can befal a puny child of clay? I shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of much malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of
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Horne. Having delivered himself of this rebuke he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. A murmur of approval arose from all and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a design which would have been effected had he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation (for he swore a round hand) that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew breath. Stap my vitals, said he, them was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello which I was bred up most particular to honour thy father and thy mother by poor dear mamma that had the best hand to a rolypoly or a hasty pudding as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart.

To revert to Mr Bloom who, after his first entry had been conscious of some impudent mocks which he however had borne with being the fruits of that age upon which it is commonly charged that it knows not pity. The young sparks, it is true, were as full of extravagancies are overgrown children: The words of their tumultuary discussions were difficultly understood and not often nice: their testiness and outrageous mots were such that his intellects resiled from: nor were they scrupulously sensible of the proprieties though their fund of strong animal spirits spoke in their behalf. But the word of Mr Costello was unwelcome language for him for he nauseated the wretch that seemed to him a cropeared creature of a misshapen gibbosity, thrust like a crookback toothed and feet first into the world so as to put him in mind |4'thought4'| of that missing link of creation's chain desiderated by the late ingenious Mr Darwin. It was now for more than the allotted middle span of our allotted
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years that he had passed through the thousand vicissitudes of existence and, being of a wary ascendancy and self a man of rare forecast, he had enjoined his heart to repress all motions of a rising choler and, by intercepting them with the readiest precaution, foster within his breast that plenitude of sufferance which base minds jeer at, the rash judgers scorn and all find tolerable and but tolerable. To those who create themselves wits at the cost of feminine delicacy to them he would concede neither to bear the name nor to herit the tradition of a proper breeding: while for such that, having lost all forbearance, can lose no more there remained the sharp antidote of experience to cause their insolency to beat a precipitate |4'& inglorious4'| retreat. Not but what he could feel with mettlesome youth which, caring nought for the mows of dotards or the gruntlings of the severe, is ever for eating of the tree forbid it yet not so far forth as to pretermit humanity upon any condition soever toward a gentlewoman when she was about her lawful occasions. To conclude, while from the sister's words he had reckoned upon a speedy delivery he was, however, it must be owned, not a little alleviated by the intelligence that the issue so ausspicated after a trial of such duress now testified once more to the mercy as well as to the bounty of the Supreme Being.

Accordingly he broke his mind to his neighbour saying that, to express his notion of the thing, his opinion (who ought not perchance to express one) was that one must have a cold constitution and a frigid genius not to be rejoiced by this freshest news of the fruition of her confinementº since she had been in such pain through no fault of hers. The dressy young blade said it was her husband's
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that put her in that expectation or at least it ought to be unless she were another Ephesian matron. I must acquaint you, said Mr Crotthers, clapping on the table so as to evoke a resonant comment of emphasis, old Glory Allelujurum was round today again, |4'a an elderly4'| meagre man with side whiskers, preferring |4'through his nose4'| a request to have word of Wilhelmina, my life, as he calls her. I bade him hold himself in readiness for that the event would burst anon. 'Slife, I cannot but extol the virile potency of the old bucko that could still knock another child of her. All fell to praising of it, each after his fashion, though the same young blade held with his former view that another than her le conjugial was the man in the gap, a clerk in orders or an itinerant vendor of articles needed in every household. Singular, muttered the guest to himself, the wonderfully unequal faculty of metempsychosis possessed by them, that the puerperal chamber and the dissecting theatre should be the seminaries of such frivolity, that the mere acquisition of academic titles should suffice to transform in a pinch of time these votaries of levity into exemplary practitioners of an art which most men anywise eminent have esteemed the noblest. But, he further added, it is mayhap to relieve the pentup feelings that in common oppress them for I have more than once observed that birds of a feather laugh together.

But with what fitness, let it be asked, has this alien, whom the concession of a gracious prince has admitted to civic rights, constituted himself the lord paramount of our domestic polity? Where is now that
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gratitude which loyalty should have counselled? During the recent war whenever the enemy had a temporary advantage with their granados did he not seize that moment to discharge his piece against the empire in which he is a tenant at will while he trembled for the security of his four per cents? Has he forgotten this as he forgets benefits received? Or is it that from being a deluder of others he has become at last his own dupe and as he is, if report belie him not, his own and his only enjoyer? Far be it from candour to violate the bedchamber of a respectable lady, the daughter of a gallant major, or to cast the most distant reflections upon her virtue but if he challenges attention there (as it was indeed highly his interest not to have done) then be it so. Unhappy woman, she has been too long and too persistently denied her legitimate prerogative to listen to his objurgations with any other feeling than the derision of the desperate. He says this, a censor of morals, a very pelican in his piety who did not scruple, oblivious of the ties of nature, to attempt illicit intercourse with a female domestic drawn from the lowest strata of society! Nay, had the hussy's scouring brush not been her tutelary angel, it had gone with her as hard as with Hagar, the Egyptian? In the question of the grazing lands his peevish asperity is notorious and in Mr Cuffe's hearing brought upon him from an indignant rancher a scathing retort couched in terms as straight forward as they were bucolic. It ill becomes him to preach that gospel. Has he not nearer home a seedfield that lies fallow for the want of |4'a the4'| ploughshare? A habit reprehensible at puberty
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is second nature and an opprobium in middle life. If he must dispense his balm of Gilead to restore to health a generation of unfledged profligates let his practice consist better with his the doctrines that now engross him. His marital breast is the repository of secrets which decorum is reluctant to adduce. The lewd suggestions of some faded beauty may console him for a consort, neglected and debauched, but this new exponent of morals and healer of ills is at his best an exotic tree which, when rooted in its native orient, throve and flourished and was abundant in balm but, transplanted to a clime more temperate, its roots have lost their quondam vigour while the stuff that comes away from it is stagnant, acid and inoperative.

The news was imparted with a circumspection recalling the ceremonial usage of the sublime Porte by the second female infirmarian to the junior medical officer in residence, who in his turn announced to the delegation that an heir had been born. When he had betaken himself to the women's apartment to assist at the prescribed ceremony of the afterbirth the delegates, chafing under the length and solemnity of their vigil and hoping that the joyful occurrence would palliate a licence which the simultaneous absence of abigail and obstretician rendered the easier, broke out at once into a strife of tongues. In vain the voice of Mr Canvasser Bloom was heard endeavouring to urge, to mollify, to refrain. The moment was too propitious for the display of that discursiveness the only band of union among tempers so divergent. Every phase of the situation was successively eviscerated. The prenatal repugnance of uterine brothers, the Caesarean operation, the fratricidal case known as the Childs murder and rendered memorable by
{ms, 42}
the impassioned plea of Mr Advocate Bushe which secured the acquittal of the wrongfully accused, the rights of primogeniture and |4'queen's king's4'| bounty touching twins and triplets, miscarriages and infanticides, simulated or dissimulated, the acardiac foetus in foetu |4'and aprosopia4'| due to a congestion, all cases which Aristotle's masterpiece has chronicled of agnatia of certain chinless Chinaman (cited by Mr M Candidate Mulligan) as a consequence of a defective reunion of the maxillary knobs along the medial line so that, as he said, one ear could catch what the other said, the benefits of anesthesia or twilight sleep, |4'|xthe prolungation of labour from early gravidancy by reason of embryonic pressure upon the vein,x|4'| the premature relentment of the amniotic fluid (as exemplied by the actual case) necessitating an artificial distension of the matrix, the recorded instances of multiseminal, twikindled and monstrous births. The gravest problems of obstetrics and forensic medicine were examined with as much animationº as the most popular beliefs on the state of pregnancy such as the forbidding to gravid women to step over a countrystile lest, by her movement, the navelcord should strangle the foetus in her womb and the injunction upon her in the event of a yearning, ardently and ineffectually entertained, to lay her hand against that part of her person which long usage has consecrated as the seat of castigation. The abnormalities of harelip, breastmole and strawberry mark were alleged by one as a prima facie and natural explanation of those swinheaded (the case of the foundress of Steven's hospital was not forgotten) or doghaired infants occasionally born. The hypothesis of a plasmic memory, advanced by the Caledonian envoy and worthy of the metaphysical traditions of the land he stood for,
{ms, 43}
envisaged in such cases an arrest of embryonic development at some stage antecedent to the human. An outlandish delegate of a bestial cast of countenance sustained against both these views, with such heat as almost carried conviction, the theory of copulation between women and the males of brutes, his authority being his own avouchment in support of fables such as the legend of the Minotaur which the genius of the elegant Latin poet has handed down to us. The impression made by his words was immediate but shortlived. It was effaced as easily as it had been evoked by an allocution from Mr Candidate Mulligan in that vein of pleasantry which none more than he knew how to affect, postulating as the supremest object of desire a nice clean old man. Contemporaneously a heated argument having arisen between Mr Delegate Madden and Mr Candidate Lynch regarding the juridical and theological dilemma created in the event of one Siamese twin predeceasing the other the problem, by mutual consent, was referred to Mr Canvasser Bloom for instant submittal to Mr Coadjutor Deacon Dedalus. Hitherto silent, whether the better to show that curious dignity of the garb with which he was invested or in obedience to an inward voice, he delivered briefly and, as some thought, perfunctorily the ecclesiastical ordinance forbidding man to put asunder what God has joined.
{ms, 42v}

|4'|xMalachi's tale froze them with horror. The secret panel |abeside the chimneya| slid back and in the recess appeared — Haines. He had a bag full of |aIrisha| poems in one hand, in the other a phial marked Poison. Surprise, horror, loathing appeared on all faces while he eyed them with a ghastly grin. I anticipated this reception, he began, for which, it seems, history is to blame. Yes, it is true. I am the murderer of Samuel Childs. |aHell The future infernoa| has no terrors for me. Like the modern Irish I carry my hell is in this life. I have tried to obliterate my crime. Distractions, rookshooting, the Erse language (he recited some), laudanum (he raised the phial to his lips) camping out. In vain! His spectre stalks me. Dope is my only hope …. Ah, the black panther. With a cry he suddenly vanished and the panel slid back. An instant later his head appeared in the door opposite. Meet me at Westland Row station at ten past eleven. He was gone. Tears gushed from the eyes of the dissipated host. The seer raised his hand to heaven, murmuring: 'Tis the vengenance of Mananaun. The sage repeated: Lex talionis. The sentimentalist is he who would enjoy without incurring the immense debtorship for a thing done. Malachi ceased, overcome. The mystery was unveiled. Haines was the third brother. His real name was Childs. The black panther was himself the ghost of his own father. He drank drugs to obliterate. For this relief much thanks. The lonely house by the graveyard is uninhabited.x|4'|
{ms, 43}

What is the age of the soul of man? As she hath the virtue of the chameleon to change her hue at every new approach, to be gay with the merry, and mournful with the downcast, so is her age too changeable as her mood. No longer is Leopold, as he sits there, ruminatingº, chewing the cud of
{ms, 44}
reminiscence, that staid agent of publicity whom men respect. A score of years are blown away. He is young Leopold. There, as in a retrospective arrangement, a mirror within a mirror, he beholdeth himself. That young figure of then, precociously manly, is seen walking on a nipping morning from the old house in Clanbrassil street to the high school, his booksatchel on him bandolierwise and in it a goodly hunk of wheaten loaf, a mother's care. Or it is the same figure, some year or so gone over, in his first hard hat (ah, that was a day!) already on the road, a fullfledged traveller for the |4'family4'| firm, equipped with an orderbook, a scented handerchief handerkechief (not for show only), his case of bright trinketware (alas! a thing now of the past!) and a quiverful of compliant smiles for this or that compliant housewife reckoning it out upon her fingertips or for a budding virgin, shyly acknowledging (but the heart? tell me?) his studied baisemoins. The scent, the smile, but, more than these, the dark eyes, the oleaginous address, brought home at duskfall many a commitmentº to the head of the firm, seated after like labours in the paternal ingle (a meal of noodles, you may be sure, is a heating aheating), reading through round horned spectacles some paper from the Europe of a month before. But, hey, presto, the mirror is breathed upon and the young knighterrant recedes, shrivels, dwindles to a tiny point within the mist. Now he is himself paternal and these about him might be his sons. Who can say? The wise father knows his own child. He thinks of a drizzling night in Hatch street, hard by the
{ms, 45}
bonded stores there, the first. Together (she is a poor waif, a child of shame, yours and mine and of all for a bare shilling and her luckpenny) together they hear the heavy tread of the watch as two raincaped shadows pass the university. Bridie! Bridie Kelly! He will never forget the name, ever remember the night,: first night, the bridenight. They are entwined in nethermost darkness, the willer with the willed, and in an instant (fiat!) light shall flood the world. But hold! Back! It must not be! In terror the poor girl flees away through the murk. She is the bride of darkness, a daughter of night. She dare not bear the sunnygolden babe of day. No, Leopold. Name and memory solace thee not. That youthful illusion of thy strength was taken from thee — and in vain. No son of thy loins is here. There is none now to be for Leopold what Leopold was for Rudolph.

The voices blend and fuse in clouded silence: silence that is the infinite of space and swiftly, silently the soul is wafted over regions of cycles of generations that have lived. A twilight region where grey twilight ever descends, never falls on wide sagegreen pasturefields, shedding her dusk, scattering a perennial dew of stars. She follows her mother with ungainly steps, a mare leading her filly foal. Twilight phantoms are they, yet moulded in prophetic grace of structure, slim shaped shapely haunches, a supple tendonous neck, the meek apprehensive skull. They fade, sad phantoms: all is gone. Agendath is a waste land, a home of screechowls and the sandblind upupa. Netaim the golden, is no more. And on the highway of the clouds they come |4'muttering thunder of rebellion, the ghosts of beasts4'| Huuh! Hark! Huuh! Parallax stalks behind and goads them, the lancinating lightnings of whose brow are scorpions. Elk and yak, the bulls of
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Bashan and of Babylon, mammoth and mastodon, they come trooping to the sunken sea, Lacus Mortis. Ominous revengeful zodiacal host! They moan, passing upon the clouds, horned and capricorned, the trumpeted and with the tusked, the lionmaned, the giantantlered, snouter and crawler, ruminant, rodent and pachyderm, all their moving moaning multitude, murderers of the sun.

Onward to the dead sea they tramp to drink, unslaked, and with horrible gulpings the salt somnolent inexhaustible flood. And the equine portent grows again, magnified in the deserted heavens, nay to heaven's own magnitude till it looms, vast, over the house of virgo. And lo, wonder of metempsychosis, it is she, the everlasting bride, harbinger of the daystar, the bride, ever virgin. It is she, Martha, thou lost one, Millicent, the young, the dear, the radiant. How serene does she now arise, a queen among the pleiades in the penultimate antelucan hour, shod in sandals of bright gold, coifed with a veil of what do you call it gossamer. It floats, it flows about her starborn flesh and loose it streams, emerald, sapphire, mauve and heliotrope sustained on currents of the cold interstellar wind, winding, coiling, simply swirling, writhing in the skies a mysterious writing till, after a myriad metamorphoses of symbol, it blazes, Alpha, a ruby and triangled sign upon the forehead of Taurus.

Francis was reminding Stephen of years before when they had been at school in Conmee's time. He asked about Glaucon, Pisistratus, Alcibiades. Where were they now? Neither knew. You have spoke of the past and its phantoms, Stephen said. Why think of them? If I
{ms, 47}
them into life across the waters of Lethe will not the poor ghosts troop to my call? Who supposes it? I, Bous Stephanoumenos, bullockbefriending bard, am lord and giver of their life. He encircled his gadding hair with a coronal of vineleaves, smiling at Vincent. The answer and those leaves, Vincent said to him, will adorn you more fitly when something more, and greatly more, than a capful of light odes can call your genius father. All who wish you well hope this for you. All desire to see you bring forth the work you meditate, to acclaim you Stephaneforos. I heartily wish you may not fail them. O no, Vincent, Lenehan said, laying a hand on the shoulder near him. Have no fear. He could not leave his mother an orphan. The young man's face grew dark. All could see how sad it was for him to be reminded of his promise and of his recent loss. He would have withdrawn from the feast had not the noise of voices allayed the smart. Madden had lost five drachmas on Sceptre. Lenehan as much more. He told them of the race. The flag fell and, huuh!, off, scamper, the mare ran out freshly with O. Madden up. She was leading the field. All hearts were beating. Even Phyllis waved her scarf. She could not contain herself and cried: Sceptre wins. But in the straight on the run home when they were in close order Throwaway drew level and outstripped her. All was lost. Phyllis was silent: her eyes were sad anemones. Juno, she cried, I am all undone. But her lover consoled her and brought her a little casket of oval sugarplums which she partook. But one tear fell. A whacking fine whip, said Lenehan, is W. Lane. Four winners yesterday
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and three today. What rider is like him? Mount him on the camel or the boisterous buffalo the victory is still his. But let us bear it as was the ancient wont. Poor Sceptre! he said. with a light sigh. She is not the filly that she was. Never, by this hand, shall we behold such another, a queen of them. Do you remember her, Vincent? I wish you could have seen my queen today, Vincent said. How young she was and radiant in her yellow shoes and frock of muslin, I do not know the right name of it. The chestnuts that shaded us were all in bloom: the air drooped with their persuasive odour and with pollen floating by us. In the sunny patches one might easily have cooked on a stone a batch of those buns with Corinth fruit in them that Periplipomenes sells in his booth by the bridge. But she had nought for her teeth but the arm with which I held her and in that she bit nibbled mischievously when I pressed too close. A week ago she was ill, four days on the couch, but today she was free, blithe and mocked at peril. She is more taking then. Her posies too! Mad romp that she is she had pulled her fill as we lay together. And in your ear, my friend, he said to Francis, you will not think who met us as we left the field. Conmee himself! He was walking by the hedge, reading a brevier, I think, with perhaps a witty letter in it from Glycera to mark the page. The sweet creature turned all colours in her confusion, feigning to reprove a slight disorder in her dress: a slip of undergrowth clung there for the very trees adore her. When Conmee had passed she glanced at her lovely echo in that little mirror she carries. But he had been kind. In going by he had blessed us.
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The gods too are ever kind, Lenehan said. If I had poor luck with Bass's mare perhaps this draught of his may serve me more propensely. He was laying his hand upon a winejar: Malachi saw it and withheldº his act, pointing to the stranger then to the scarlet label. Warily, Malachi whispered, preserve a druid silence. His soul is far away. It is as painful perhaps to be awakened from a vision as to be born. Any object, intensely regarded, may be a gate of access to the incorruptible eon of the gods. Do you not think it, Stephen? Theosophos told me so, Stephen answered, whom in a previous existence Egyptian priests initiated into the mysteries of karmic law. The lords of the moon, Theosophos told me, an orangetawny shipload from planet Alpha of the lunar chain would not assume the etheric doubles and these were therefore incarnated by the |4'rosycoloured rubycoloured4'| egos from the second constellation.

However, as a matter of fact though, the preposterous surmise about him being in some description of a doldrums or other, which was entirely due to a misconception of the shallowest character, was not the case at all. The individual whose visual organs while the above was going on were at this juncture commencing to exhibit symptoms of animations was as astute or astuter than any man living. and anyone that conjectured the contrary would have found themselves pretty quickly in the wrong shop. During the past four minutes or thereabouts he had been staring at a |4'bottle certain |aquantity amounta|4'| of number one Bass bottled by Bass and Co at Burton on Trent which happened to be situated amongst
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a lot of others right opposite to where he was and was certainly calculated to attract anybody's |4'observation remark4'| on account of its scarlet appearance. He was simply and solely, as it subsequently transpired, which put put quite an altogether different complexion on the proceedings, after the moment before's remarks about boyhood days and the turf, recollecting two or three private transactions of his own that the two others were as mutually |4'ignorant innocent4'| of as the babe unborn. Eventually, however, both their eyes met and perceiving that he was endeavouring to help himself to the thing he involuntarily determined to help him himself and so he accordingly took hold of the neck of the mediumsized glass recipient which contained the fluid sought after and made a capacious hole in it by pouring a lot of it out with at the same time, however, a considerable degree of attentiveness in order not to upset any of the beer that was in it about the place.

The debate which ensued was in its scope and progress an epitome of the course of life. Neither place nor council was lacking in dignity. The debaters were the keenest in the land, the theme they were engagedº on the loftiest and most vital. The high hall of Horne's house had never beheld an assembly so representative and so varied nor had the old rafters of that establishment ever listened to a language so encyclopaedic. A gallant scene in truth it made. Crotthers was there at the foot of the table in his striking Highland garb, his face glowing from the briny airs of the Mull of
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Galloway. There too, opposite to him, was Lynch whose countenance bore already the stigmata of early depravity and premature wisdom. |4'Beside Next4'| the Scotchman was the place assigned to Costello, the eccentric while at his side was seated in stolid repose the squat form of Madden. The chair of the resident, indeed, stood vacant before the hearth but on either flank of it the figure of Bannon in explorer's kit |4'of G tweed shorts and salted cowhide brogues,4'| contrasted sharply with the prime primrose elegance and townbred manners of Malachi Roland St John Mulligan. Lastly at the head of the board was the young poet who found a refuge from his labours of pedagogy and metaphysical inquisition in the convivial atmosphere of Socratic discussion while to right and left of him were accomodated the flippant prognosticator, fresh from the hippodrome, and that vigilant wanderer, soiled by the dust of travel and combat and stained by the mire of an indelible dishonour but from steadfast and constant heart no lure or peril or threat or degradation could ever efface the image of that voluptuous loveliness which the inspired pencil of Lafayette has limned for ages yet to come.

It had better be stated here and now at the outset that the perverted transcendentalism to which Mr S. Dedalus' (Div. Scep.) contentions would appear to prove him pretty badly addicted runs directly counter to accepted scientific methods. Science, it cannot be too often repeated, deals with tangible phenomena. The man of science has to face hardheaded facts that cannot be blinked and explain
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them as best he can. There may be, it is true, some questions which science cannot answer — at present — such as the first problem, submitted by Mr Bloom, Pubbl. Canv., regarding the future determination of sex. Must we accept the view of Empedocles of Trinacria that the right ovary is responsible for the birth of males or are the too long neglected spermatozoa the differentiating factors or is it, as most embryologists incline to opine, such as Spallanzani, Culpepper, Blumenbach, Lusk, Hertwig, Neopoldº and Valenti, a mixture of both. |4'This would be tantamount to a cooperation (one of nature's favourite devices) between the nisus formativus of the nemasperm on the one hand and on the other a happily chosen position of the passive element.4'| The other problem raised by the same inquirer is scarcely less vital: that of infant mortality. It is interesting because, as he pertinently observes in this connection, we are all born in the same way but we all die in different ways. Mr Mulligan, Hyg et Eug. Doc, blames the sanitary conditions in which our greylunged citizens contract aneroids, pulmonary complaints, etc by inhaling the germs that lurk in dust. |4'Mr Crotthers, Discp. Bacc, attributes it to neglect, private or official. Although the former is undoubtedly too true the case he cites of nurses forgetting to count the sponges in the peritoneal cavity is too rare to be normative.4'| These factors, he alleged, and the disgusting spectacles offered by our streets, hideous posters, ministers of all denominations, mutilated soldiers and sailors, exposed carunreadasses, paranoic bachelors, — these, he said, were accountable for any and every falling off of the race. Kalipedia, he prophesied, will soon be adopted and all the graces of life, genuinely good music, agreeable literature, light philosophy, instructive pictures, plastercast reproductions of the classical statues such as Venus and Apollo, all these little attentions would enable ladies who were prospective mothers to pass the nine months of their pregnancy in a most
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enjoyable manner. |4'Mr Crotthers, Discp. Bacc, attributes it to neglect, private or official. Although the former is undoubtedly too true the case he cites of nurses forgetting to count the sponges in the peritoneal cavity is too rare to be normative.4'| In fact when one comes to look into it the wonder is that so many pregnancies and deliveries go off so well as they do, all things considered and in spite of our human shortcomings which often baulk nature in her intentions. An ingenious suggestion is thrown out by Mr. V. Lynch (|4'B Bacc4'|. Arith.) that both natality and mortality, as well as all other phenomena of evolution, tidal movementsº, lunar phases, blood temperaturesº, diseases in general, everythingº, in fine, in nature's vast workshop from the extinction of some remote sun to the blossomingº of one of the countless flowers which beautify our public parks is subject to a law of numerationº as yet unascertained. Still the plain straightforward question why a child of normally healthy parents and seemingly a healthy childs and properly looked after succumbs unaccountably in early childhood (though other children of the same marriage do not) must certainly, in the poet's words, Nature, we may rest assured, has her own good and valid reasons for whatever she does and in all probability such deaths are due to some law of anticipation by which organisms where morbous germs have taken up their residence (modern science has conclusively shown that only the plasmic substance can be said to be immortal) tend to disappear at an increasingly earlier stage of development, an arrangement which, though productive of pain to some of our feelings, notably the maternal) is nevertheless in the long run beneficial to the race in general in securing thereby the survival of the fittest. Mr S. Dedalus' (Div.
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Scep.) remark (or should it be called an interruption?) that an omnivorous being which masticate, deglute, digest and apparently pass through the ordinary channel |4'with pluterperfect imperturbability4'| such various aliments as cancrenous females, emaciated by parturition, corpulent professional gentlemen not to speak of jaundiced politicians and chlorotic religious might possibly find a gastric relief in an innocent collation of staggering bob reveals in a very unsavoury light the tendency above alluded to. For the enlightenmentº of those who perhaps are not so intimately acquainted with the minutiae of the municipal abattoir as this morbidminded wouldbe esthete and embryo philosopher who can scarcely distinguish an acid from an alkali prides himself on being it should perhaps be stated that staggering bob, in the vile parlance of our lowerclass licensed victuallers, signifies the cookable and edible flesh of a calf newly dropped from its mother. In a recent public controversy with Mr L. Bloom (Pubb. Canv.) which took place in the commons' hall of the National Maternity Hospital, 16 Holles Street, of which, as is well known, Sir A. Horne M.B is the able and popular master he is reported by eyewitnesses as having stated that once a woman has let the cat into the bag (an esthete's allusion, probably, to one of the most complicated and marvellous of all nature's processes — the act of copulation) she must let it out again or give it life (as he phrased it) to save her own. At the risk of her own, was the telling rejoinder of his interlocutor, none the less effective for the moderate and measured
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tone in which it was delivered.

Meanwhile the skill and patience of the physician had brought about a happy accouchement. It had been a weary weary while both for patient and doctor. All that surgical skill could do was done and the brave woman had manfully helped. She had. She had fought the good fight and now she was very very happy. Those who have passed on, who have gone before, are happy too as they gaze down and smile upon the touching scene. Reverently look at her as she reclines there (a pretty sight it is to see) in the first bloom of her new motherhood breathing a silent prayer of thanksgivingº to One above, the universal Husband. And as her loving eyes behold her babe she wishes only one blessing more to have her Doady there with her to share her joy, to lay in his arms the fruit of their lawful embraces. He is older now (you and I may whisper it) and a trifle stooped in the shoulders yet in the whirligig of years a grave dignity has come to the conscientiousº secound accountant of the Ulster bank, College Green branch. O Doady, loved one of old, faithfulº companion (lifemate) now, it may never be again that faroff time of the roses! With the old shake of her pretty head she recalls those days. God! How beautiful now across the mist of years! But their children are grouped in her imagination about the bedside, hers and his, Charley, Mary Alice, Frederick Albert (if he had lived), Mamy, Budgy (Victoria Frances), Tom, Violet Constance Louisa, darling little Bobsy (called after our famous hero of the South African war, lord Bobs of Waterford and Candahar) and now this last pledge of their union,
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a Purefoy if ever there was one with the true Purefoy nose. Young hopeful will be christened Mortimer Edward after the influential third cousin of Mr Purefoy in Dublin Castle. And so time wags on: but father Cronion has dealt lightly here. No, let no sigh break from that bosom, dear gentle Mina. And Doady, knock the ashes from your pipe, the seasoned briar you still fancy when the curfew rings for you (may it be the distant day!) and dout the light whereby you read in the sacred book for there the oil too has run low, and so with a tranquil heart to bed, to rest. You too have fought the good fight. Sir, to you my hand. Well done, thou good and faithful servant.

There are sins (or, let or (let us call them as the world calls them) evil memories which are hidden away by man in the darkest places of the heart but they abide there and wait. He may suffer their memory to grow dim, let them be as though they had not been and and all but persuade himself that they were not or at least were other wise. Yet a chance word will call them forth suddenly and they will rise up to confront him in the most various circumstances, a vision or a dream, or while timbrel and harp soothe his senses or amid the cool silver tranquility of the evening or at the feast, at midnight, when he is now filled with wine. Not to insult over him will the vision come as over one that lies under her wrath, not for vengeance to cut him off from the living but shrouded in the piteous vesture of the past, silent, remote, reproachful.

The stranger still regarded
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on the face before him a slow recession of that |4'imposed false4'| calm there, imposed, as it seemed, by habit or some studied trick, upon words so embittered as to accuse in their speaker an unhealthy sensitiveness, a flair, for the cruder things of life. A scene disengages itself in the observer's memory. A shaven space of lawn one soft May evening, the wellrememberedº grove of lilacs at Roundtown, fragrant slender spectators of the game but with much real interest in the pellets as they run slowly forward over the sward or collide and stop, one by its fellow, with a brief alert shock. And yonder about that grey urn where the water moves at times in thoughtful irrigation you saw another as fragrant sisterhoodº, Floey, Atty, Tiny and their darker friend with I know what of arresting in her pose then, Our Lady of the Cherries, a comely brace of them pendent from an ear bringing out the foreign warmth of her skin so daintily against the cool ardent fruit. A lad of four or five in linseywoolsey of ripe damson (blossomtime, yes, but there will be cheer in the kindly hearth when ere long the bowls are gathered and hutched) is standing on the urn secured by that circle of girlish fond hands. He frowns a little just as this young man does now with perhaps a too conscious enjoyment of the danger but must needs glance at whiles towards where his mother watches with a faint shadow of remoteness or of reproach in her |4'glad4'| still look.

Mark this farther and remember. The end
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comes suddenly. Enter that antechamber of birth where the studious are assembled and note their faces. Nothing, as it seems, there of rash or violent. Quietude of custody, rather, befitting their stations in that house, the vigilant watch of shepherds and of angels on that holiest of nights about a crib in Bethlehem of Juda long ago. But as before the lightning the serried stormclouds heavy with preponderant excess of moisture, in swollen masses turgidly distended, compass earth and sky in one vast slumber, impending above parched field and drowsy oxen and blighted growth of shrub and verdure till in an instant a flash rives their centres and with the reverberation of the thunder the cloudburst pours its torrent so and not other wise in that room of quiet was the transformationº, violent and instantaneousº, upon the utterance of the word.

Burke's! Out flings my lord Stephen, giving the cry and a tag and bobtail of all them after, cockerel, jackanapes, welsher, pilldoctor, punctual Bloom at heels with a universal grabbing at |4'headwear headgear4'|, ashplants, bilbos, |4'Panama4'| hats and scabbards, Zermatt alpenstocks and what not. A dedale of lusty youth, noble every student there. Nurse Callan taken aback in the hallway cannot stay them nor smiling surgeon, coming downstairs, with news of placentation ended, a full pound if a milligramme. They hark him on. The door! It is open? Ha! They are out, tumultuouslyº, off for a minute's race, all lustily legging it, Burke's of Denzille and Holles their ulterior goal. Dixon follows giving them sharp language but raps out an oath, he too, and on. Bloom stays with nurse a thought
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to send a kind word to happy mother convalescent up there. Doctor Diet and Doctor Quiet. Looks she too not other now. Strain of watching in Horne's house has told its tale to be read in that washed out pallor. Then all being gone, a glance of motherwit helping, he whispers close in going: Madam, blank

The air without is impregnated with raindew moisture, life essence celestial, glistening on Dublin stone there under starshiny coelum. God's air, the Allfather's air, scintillant, cessile air. Breathe it deep into thee. By heaven, Theodore Purefoy, thou hast done a doughty deed and no botch. Thou art, I vow, the remarkablest progenitor, barring none, in this chaffering, allincluding, most farraginous chronicle. Astounding! In her lay a Godframed preformed possibility which thou hast fructified with thy modicum of man's work. Cleave to her. Serve! Toil on, labour like a very bandog and let scholarment go hang. Thou art all their daddies, Theodore. Art drooping under thy |4'toil load bemoiled4'| with butcher's bills at home and ingots (not thine!) in the counting house? Head up! For every new begotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat. See, thy fleece is drenched. Dost envy Darby there with his Joan, a? A canting jay and a rheumeyed curdog is all their brood. |4'Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile cohabitation. Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding.4'| Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina not worth a cracked kreutzer. |4'Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile cohabitation. Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding.4'| She is a hoary pandemonium of ills within, enlarged glands,
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mumps, quinsy, bunions, ringworm, Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious attacks, gallstones, cold feet, varicose veins. A truce to threnes and trentals and jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty years of it, regret them not. With thee it was not as with many that will and would and wait and never — do. Thou sawest thy goal and didst charge to cover like the transpontine bison. How saith Zarathusthra? Deine Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Nun trinkst |4'Die Du4'| die süsse Milch des Euters. See! It displodes for thee in abundance. Drink, man, an udderful! Mother's milk, Purefoy, the milk of human kin, milk too of those stars overhead rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness, the honeymilk of Canaan's land. Thy cow's dug was tough, what? Ay, but her milk is hot and sweet and fattening. To her, old patriarch! By Dea Partula et Pertunda, nunc est bibendum!

All off for a buster, armstrongº, hollering down the street. Bonafides. |4'Where you slep las night?4'| Timothy of the battered naggin. Like old Billyo. Any brollies or gumboots in the family fambily? Where the Henry Nevil's sawbones and old clo? Sorra one o me knows. Hurrah there, Dix. Forwardº to the ribbon counter. Where's Punch? All serene. O, look at the drunken minister coming out of the maternity hospital! Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater et Filius. A make, mister. The Denzille lane boys. |4'Hell, blast you. Scoot.4'| Righto, Isaacs, shove em out of the bleeding limelight. You join us, dear sir. No hentrusion
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in life. Lou heap good man. Allee samee dis bunch. En avant, mes enfants. Fire away number one on the gun. Burke's! Burke's! Thence they advanced five parasangs. Slattery's mounted foot. Parson Steve, apostates' creed! No, no, Mulligan! Abaft there! Shove ahead. Keep a watch on the clock. Chucking out time. Mullee! What's on you? Ma mère m'a mariée. British Beatitudes! Retamplatan digidi boumboum. Ayes have it. To be printed and bound at the Druiddrum press by two designing females. Calf covers of pissed on green. Last word in art shades. Most beautiful book come out of Ireland my time. Silentium! Get a spurt on. Tention. Proceed to nearest canteen and there annex liquor stores. March! Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are (atitudes!) parching. Beer, beef, business, bibles, bulldogs, battleships, buggery and bishops. Whether on the scaffold high. Beer, beef, trample the bibles. When for Irelandear. Trample the trampellers. Thunderation! Keep the durned millingtary step. We fall. Bishops boosebox. Halt! Heave to! Scrum in. No touch kicking. Wow, my tootsies!

Query. Who's astanding this here do? Proud possessor of damn all. Declare misery. Bet to the ropes. Me nantee saltee. Not a red at me this week gone. Yours? Mead of our fathers for the Uebermensch. Dittoh. Five number ones. You, sir? Ginger cordial. Chase me, the cabby's caudle. Stimulate the caloric. Winding of his ticker. Stopped short never to go again when the old. Absinthe for me, savvy? Caramba. Have an eggnog or a prairie oyster. Avuncular's got my timepiece. Ten to. Obligated awful. Don't mention it. Got a pectoral trauma, eh, Dix? Pos fact. Got bet be a boomblebee whenever he wos settin sleepin in his bit garten. Digs up near
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the Mater. Buckled he is. Know his dona? Yup, sartin I do. Full of a dure. See her in her dishybilly. Peels off a credit. None of your lean kine, not much. Pull down the blind, love. Two Ardilauns. Same here. Look slippery. If you fall don't wait to get up. Five, seven, nine. Fine! Got a prime pair of mincepies, no kid. And her take me to rests and her anker of rum. Must be seen to be believed. Your starving eyes and allbeplastered neck you stole my heart, O gluepot. Sir? Spud again the rheumatiz? All poppycock. You'll excuse me saying. For the hoi polloi. I vear thee beest a gert vool. Well, doc? Back fro Lapland? How's the squaws and papooses? Woman body after going on the straw? Stand and deliver. Password. There's hair. Ours the white death and the ruddy birth. Hi! Spit in your own eye, mister! Mummer's wire. Cribbed out of Meredith. Jesified, orchidised, polycimical jesuit! Aunty mine's writing Pa Kinch. Baddybad Stephen lead astray goodygood Malachi.

Hurroo! Collar the leather, young un. Roun wi the nappy. Here, Jock's |4'braw Hielentman's4'| your barley bree. My tipple. Merci. Here's to us. How's that? Leg before wicket. Don't stain my brandnew sit-in-ems. Give's a shake of peppe, you there. Catch aholt. Caraway seed to carry away. Twig? Shrieks of silence. Every cove to his gentry mort. Venus Pandemos. Les petites femmes. Bold bad girl from the town of Mullingar. Tell her I was axing at her. Hauding Sara by the wame. On the road to Malahide. Me? If she who seduced me had left but the name. What do you want for ninepence. Machree Macruiskeen. Smutty Moll for a mattress jig. And a pull all together. Ex!

Waiting, guvnor? Most deciduously
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Bet your boots on. Stunned like, seeing as how no shiners is acoming. Underconstumble? Heve got the chink ad lib. Seed near three pound on him a spell ago he said was hisn. Us come right in on your invite, see? Up to you, matey. Out with the oof. Two bar and a wing. You larn that go off they there Frenchy bilks. Won't wash here for nuts nohow. Lil chile velly solly. Ise de cutest colour coon down our side. Gawds teruth, Chawley. We are nae. We're nae the fou. Au reservoir, mossoo. Tanks. you.

'Tis, sure. What say? In the speakeasy. Tight. Bantam, two days teetee. Bowsing nowt but claretwine. Garn! Have a glint, do. Gum, I'm jiggered. Too full for words. With a railway bloke How come you so? Opera he'd like. Rose of Castile. Rows of cast. Police! Some H2O for a gent fainted. Look at Bantam's flowers. Gemini. He's going to holler. The colleen bawn. My colleen bawn. O cheese it! Shut his Dutch oven with a firm hand. Had the winner today till I tipped him a dead cert. The ruffin cly the nab of Stephen Hand as give me the jady coppalleen. He strike a telegram boy paddock wire big bug Bass to the depot. Shove him a joey and grahamise. Mare on form hot order. Guinea to a goosegog. Tell a cram that. Gospeltrue. Criminal diversion? I think that yes. Sure thing. Land him in chokeechokee if the harman beck copped the game. Madden back Madden's a maddening back. O lust our refuge and our strength. Decamping. Must you go? Off to mammy. Stand by. Hide my blushes someone. All in if he spots me. Come ahome, our Bantam. Horryvar, mong vioo. Dinna forget the cowslips for hersel. Cornfide. Wha gev ye thon colt? Pal to pal. Jannock. Of John Thomas, her spouse. No fake, old man Leo. S'elp me, honest injun. Shiver my timbers if I had. There's a great big
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holy friar. Vyfor you no me tell? Vel, I ses, if that aint a sheeny nachez I vil get misha mishinnah. Though yerd our lord, Amen.

You move a motion. Steve boy, you're going it some. Will immensely generous stander permit stooder of most extreme poverty to terminate one expensive inaugurated libation? Give's a breather. Landlord, landlord have you good wine, staboo? Hoots, mon, a wee drap to pree. Cut and come again. Right. Absinthe the lot. Nos omnes biberimus viridum toxicum diabolus capiet posterioria nostria. Closingtime, gents. Eh? Rome boose for the Bloom toff. I hear you say onions? Bloo? Cadges ads. Photo's papli by all that's gorgeous. Play low, pardner. Slide. Bonsoir la compagnie. And snares of the poxfiend. Where's the buck and Namby Amby. Skunked? Leg bail. Aweel, ye maun e'en gang yer gates. Checkmate. King to tower. Kind Kristyan wil yu help yung man hoose frend tuk bungellow kee to tu find plais whear to tu lay crown of his hed 2 night. Crickey, I'm about sprung. Tarnally dog gone my shins if this beent the bestest puttiest long break yet. Item, curate, couple of cookies for this child. |4'Got's Cot's4'| plood and prandypalls, none! Not a pite of sheeses! Thrust syphilis down to hell and with him those other licensed spirits. Time! Who wander through the world. Health all! À la votre!

Golly. What in tunket's that guy in the mackintosh? Dusty Rhodes. Peep at his wearables. What's he got? Jubilee mutton. Bovril, by James. Wants it real bad. D'ye ken bare socks? Seedy cuss in the Richmond? Rawthere! Thought he had a
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deposit of lead in his penis. Trumpery insanity. Bartle the bread we calls him. That, sir, was once a prosperous cit. Man all tattered and torn that married a maiden all forlorn. Slung her hook, she did. Here see lost love. Walking Mackintosh of lonely canyon. Tuck and turn in. Schedule time. Nix for the hornies. Pardon? Seen him today at a runefal? Chum o yourn passed in his checks? Ludamassy! Pore piccaninnies! Thou'llº no be telling me thot, Pold veg! Did ums blubble big splash crytears cos fren Padney was took off in black bag! Of all de darkies Massa Pat was verra best. I never see the like since I was born. Tiens, tiens but it is well sad, that, my faith, yes. O, get, rev on a gradient one in nine. Live axle drives are souped. Lay you two to one Jenatzy licks him rudda ruddy well hollow. Jappies? High angle fire, inyah! Sunk by war specials. Be worse for him, says he, nor any Rooshian. Time all. There's eleven of them. Get ye gone. Night. Night. May Allah the Excellent One your soul this night ever tremendously conserve.

Your attention! Ware hawk for the chap puking. Yooka. Night. Mona, my thrue love. Yook. Mona, my own love. Ook.

Hark! Shut your obstropulous. Blaze on. There she goes. Brigade! Bout ship. Mount street way. Cut up! Pflaap! Tally ho. You not come? Run, skelter, race. Pflaap!

Lynch! Hey? Sign on long o me. Denzille lane this way. Change here for Bawdyhouse. We two, she said, will seek the kips where hairy Mary is. Righto. Any old time. Laetabuntur in cubilibus suis. You coming
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long? Whipser, who the sooty hell's the johnny in the black duds? Hush! Sinned against the light and even now that day is at hand when he shall come to judge the world by fire. Pflaap! Ut implerentur scripturae. Strike up a ballad. Then outspoke medical Dick to his comrade medical Davy. Christicle, who's this excrement yellow gospeller on the Merrion hall? Elijah is coming! All are washed in the blood of the Lamb. Come on you winefizzling, ginsizzling, boose guzzling existences! Come on, you bullnecked, beetlebrowed, hogjowled, peanutbrained, weaseleyed fourflushers, false alarms and excess baggage! Come on, you triple extract of infamy! Alexanderº J Christ Dowie that's my name, that's yanked to glory most half this planet from Frisco beach to Vladivostok. The Deity aint no nickel dime bumshow. I put it to you that He's on the square and a corking fine business proposition. He's the grandest thing yet and don't you forget it. Shout salvation in King Jesus. You'll need to rise precious early, you sinner there, if you want to diddle the Almighty God. Pflaaaap! Not half. He's got a coughmixture with a punch in it for you, my friend, in his back pocket. Just you try it on.