— How good you are! But could you, of course, decent Lettrechaun (to change your name if not your nation), we knew, while still in the barrel, read the strangewrote anaglyptics of those Shemletters patent for His Christian's Em?
— Greek! |9Handº it to me!9| Shaun replied, pointing to the cinnamon quill behind his acoustrolobe. |9'I'm
|aan asa| afterdusk Roman as pope and water could christen me.9'| Look at that for a ridingpin! I am, by St Larynx, letterpotent to play the sem backwards like Oscan wild or
unshent Persse or from the Ottoman or off the Toptic off the types
of my finklers in the draught or with bottles, with my |9'ops oyes9'| thickshut and all. But it is horrebrew bad on the corns and callouses. As far as that goes I associate myself with your remark just now from theodicy re furloined notepaper and quite agree in your prescriptions for indeed I am, pay Gay, in juxtaposition to say it is not a nice production. It is a pinch of scribble|9'. Notº worth aº bottle of cabbage9'|. Overdrawn! Besides, it's auctionable, all about crime and libel! Nothing beyond clerical horrors et omnibus to be entered for the foreign as secondclass matter.
Flummery is what I would call it if you were to ask me to put it on a single dimension what pronounced opinion I might possibly have about them bagses of trash which the mother and Mr Unmentionable has reduced to writing without making news out of my sootyname. |9'|aHow Whena| she slipped under her couchman. And where he made a cat with a peep. How they wore two madges on the makewater. |aAnd |~whey why~| there were treefellers in the shruburbsº.a|9'| |9Then he hawks his handmud figgers from Francie to Fritzie |adown in the kookina|. |aKiss Phiza| is me mother and Hair's me father|a, Bauvº Betty Fammº and Pig Pig Pikea|. Comme bien!º Comme bien! Feefeel! Feefeel! |aAnd the Dutches dyin |blaffin loffinb| at his pon peck de Bareeº. |bAnd all the mound reared!º Tillº he |cdidn't know wot notc| what to begin he should.b|a|9| An infant sailing eggshells on the floor of a wet day would have more sabby.
Letter, carried of Shaun, son of Hek, written of Shem, brother of Shaun, for Alp, mother of Shem, for Hek, father of Shaun.
— Kind Shaun, we all requested, much as we hate to say it but since you rose to the use of money have you not, without suggesting for an instant, millions of moods used up slanguage |s9ton tuns9| times as words as the penmarks used out in sinscript with such hesitancy by your cerebrated brother — excuse me not mentioningahem?
— CelebrAted! Shaun replied under the sheltar of his broguish, vigorously rubbing his magic lantern to a glow of fullconsciousness. HeCitEncy! Notorious I rather would feel inclined to myself in the first place to describe Mr O'Shem the Draper as should I be accentually called upon to pass my opinions into impulsory irelitz. But I would not care to be so
|9insulting unfruitful9| to my own part as to swear for the moment positively as to the views of Denmark. No, sah! But let me say my every belief
before my high Gee is that I much doubt of it. |9I've no room for that fellow.º I just can't.9| As
I |9'hourly9'| learn he is on his last, boasting always of his ruddy complexious! She, the mammyfar, was put up to it by him, the iniquity, that ought to be
|9'depraved of his libertins and9'| placed in irons into some drapery institution off the antipopees for wordsharping only if he could pass the panel doctors. For that is well celibated before the four divorce courts and all the King's paunches how he has the
solitary from seeing Scotch snakes and has consumption and dalickeycyphalos on his brach premises where he can |9'dejeunerate into a skillyton andº9'| be thinking himself
to death. Rot him! Flannelfeet! Flattyro! I will describe you in a word. Homo! Then putting his bedfellow on me! |9'The criniman!º9'| I'll give it to him for
that! Is he on whosekeeping or are my? With his unique hornbook and his prince of the apauper's pride, blundering all over the two worlds! If he waits till I buy him a |9musselman's mosselman's9| present! He's nos halfcousin of mine, pigdish! Nor wants to! |9'I'd famish with the cuistha first.9'| A ham!
— May we petition you, Shaun illustrious, then, to unravel in your own sweet words to your very humble and most obsequient, we suggested, as to how?
— You may and welcome, Shaun replied, taking at the same time as his hunger got the bitter of him a hearty bite out of the honeycomb of his Braham and Melo's edible hat, tryone, tryon and triune. Ann wunkum. Sure I thunkum you knew all about that through thelementary channels long agum. Sure that is as commonpleas now and bunkum as Nelson his pillar. Beerman's bluff
was what begun it, Old Knoll and his barrowing. And then the lilies of the veldt, Nancy Nickies and Folletta Lajambe. Then mem and hem and the jaquejack. I regret to announce |s9For
forºs9| two days she kept squealing down for noisy priors and bawling out in Shemish about the Balt and his loyal divorces, tse, tse, and him, the cribibber, like an ambitrickster, fast aslooped in the intrance to his polthronechair with his sixth finger between his catseye and the
index, engrossing to his ganderpan the idioglossary he invented under hicks hyssop. Hock! I gave him that toock, imitator! And it was entirely theck latter to blame. Does he drink because I am sorely there shall be no more Kates and Nells? It was given meeck to assist at the whole thing byck special chancery licence. As often as I think of that unbloody housewarmer Shem Skrivenitch, always cutting
my prhose to please his phrase, bigorror, I declare I get the jawache! You know, he's peculiar, that eggschicker. He was grey at three |9'when he made his boo to the
public9'| and |9'barnacled up to the eyes when he9'| repented at seven. He's weird, I tell you. That's why he was forbidden tomate |9and was warmed off the ricecourse of marrimoney9|. Then he was pusched out of Thingamuddy's school by Miss Garterd for itching. Then he caught the europicolas and went into the society of jewses. One temp the freak wanted to put his bilingual head intentionally through the Irish Tames and go and join the clergy as a dominical skyterrier. Inkupot! |9I have the outmost contempt for.9| Your puddin is cooked! You're served, cram ye! Fatefully (9yours. yours...9) |9'Ex. Ex. Ex. Ex.9'|
— But for what, Shaun of grace? weakly we went on to ask now of the gracious one. Vouchsafe to say. You will now, goodness, won't you? Why?
— For his root language, if you ask me whys, footinmouther, Shaun replied as he blessed himself devotionally like a crossbun |s9as an makings9| act of oblivion, (what the thickuns else?) which he picksticked into his lettruce invrention.
— But you could come near it, we do suppose, strong Shaun O', we foresupposed. How?
— Peace! Peace! Shaun replied in penultimatum as he swigged a slug of Jon Jacobsen from his treestem sucker cane. 'Tis perils before Sweenys. Mild but likesome! I might as well be talking to the four waves till Tibbs' gray eve and the west's asleep. Frost!
(9Nope!9) No-one in his seven senses could, as I have before said, only you missed my drift, for it's being incendiary.
|9Every dimmed letter in it is a copy and not a few of the silbils and wholly words I can show you in my Kingdom of Heaven.9| The lowquacity of him!
With his threestar monothong! Thaw! The last word in stolentelling! And what's more, rightdown lowbrown schisthematic robblemint! Yes. As he was rising
my lather. Like you. And as I was plucking his goosybone. Like yea. He store the tale of me shur. Like yup.
— Still in a way, not to flatter you, we fancy you that are so strikingly brainy and well letterread on yourshelves could use worse of yourself, ingenious Shaun, we still fancied, if only you would take your time and the trouble of so doing it.
— Undoubtedly but that is show, Shaun replied, the muttermelk of his blood donor beginning to work, it would be a bad day I could not so you can keep your space, and by the power of blurry wards I could do it (I am convicted of it!) any time ever I liked (bet ye fippence |s9off me
boot allowances9|!) with the greatest transfusiasm as, you see, while I can soloquise better than most, it is an openear secret, be it said, how I am extremely ingenuous at the clerking even with my badily left and as easy as I'd perorate a chickerow of peas and my trifolium
librotto, the authordux Book of Lifé, would far exceed what that bogus bolshy of a Shame, my soamheis brother, is conversant with in audible black and prink. And one of these fine days, man dear, that I may cut my throat with my tongue tonight but I may willhap be ormuzd moved to introvent it
|9'|~paa tryk Paatryk~|9'| just like a work of
merit, mark my words, that will open your |9'eye pucktricker's ops9'| for you, broather brooher, only for as a papst and an immature and a
spaciaman spaciosum and a hundred and eleven other things I would never for anything take so much trouble of such doing. And why so? Because I am altogether a chap too fly and hairyman for to infradig the like of that ultravirulence. And by all I hold sacred I swear to you on my piop
and oath by the awe of Shaun (and that's a howl of a name!) that I will commission to the flames any incendiarist whosoever or ahriman howsoclever who would endeavour to set ever anny roner moother of mine on fire. I will soho!
And big hottempered husky pugiliser such as he was, he all but broke down on the mooherhead,
|9'getting |aquitea| jerry over her,9'| overpowered by himself with the love of the tearsilver that he twined through her hair, for sure he was the soft slob of the world and as innocent and undesignful as the freshfallen calef. Still he laughed it off with a gulp apologetic. Mind you, that he was in the dumpest of earnest orthough him jawr war hoo hleepy hor halk urthing hurther. Like that only he stopped short and, in looking up from his timeshackled wrists upon the pansiful heathvens of joepeter as they are telling not but were and will be, all told, to feel out what age he might find by |9the sirious pointstand ofº9| Charles' Wain his thumbs fell into his fists and, losing the harmonical balance of his ballbearing extremities, by the holy kettle, |9like a flask of lightningº9| over he careened by the mightyfine weight of his barrel (what that prevented the happening of, who, if not the asterisks betwink themselves, shall ever?) and, as the wisest course he could take, collapsed in ensemble and rolled buoyantly backwards in less than a twinkling via Rattigan's corner out of further earshot with his highly curious mode of slipashod motion, surefoot, sorefoot, slickfoot,
slackfoot, and by Killesther's lapes and falls, with corks and staves and treeleaves and more bubbles to his keelrow a fairish and easy way enough as the town cow cries behind the times in the direction of MacAuliffe's, the crucethouse, before he was really uprighted ere in a dip of the downs he miraculously disappaled from circular circulatio. Ah, mean!
And strewers were shinings. And the earthnight was aromatose. His pibrook creppt mong the duskness. A reek was waft on the luftstream. He was ours, all fragrance. And we were his for our lifetime. O dulcid dreamings, languidous! |s9Tabacco! Taboccoo!ºs9|
It was sharming! But scharmeng!
Well, it is to bedowern that thou art passing hence, mine bruder, able Shaun, from carnal relations and familiar faces, beyond cods' cradle and |s9pikes' porpoises9| plain, to the inds of Tuskland
where the Oliphants scrum from, till the ousts of Amiracles where the (9tollº9) stories grow, more is the pity, but for all your deeds of goodness you were forever doing, as our humbler classes, whose favourite virtue is humility,
can tell, it is hardly we can part you, for you were the walking saint, you were|9', the |apride graceda| of gods and
|aunreadittites pittitesa| and the salus of the
wake9'|. Musha, (9be thinking be tinking9) of us out there in
(9Cockland Cockfirt9), poor twelve o'clock scholars sometime or other anywhen you find the time. Wisha, be coming back to us way home in Biddyhouse one way or the other anyhow, we miss your smile.
And may the moss of prosperousness gather you rolling home! May foggy dews bediamondise your hooprings! May the fireplug of filiality reinsure your bunghole! May the barleywind behind glow luck to your bathershins! 'Tis well we know you were loth to leave us, winding your hobbledehorn, right royal post, but sure, pulse of our slumber, by the grace of Votre Dame, you will skiff across the Moylendsea and round up in your own escapology some canonisator's day or other digging snow like the good man you are with your boxing pockets turned knockside out in the rake of the rain for fresh remittances, and from that till this in any case may the tussocks grow quickly under your trampthickets and the daisies trip lightly over your |s9toetops battercopss9|.