Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. (3Bad for their tummies.3) Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne(3,3) sucking |5jujubes red jujubes white5|.
A sombre |6Y.M.C.A.6| young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of Graham Lemon's(3,3) placed a throwaway in (3the a3) hand of Mr Bloom.
Heart to heart talks.
Bloo … Me? No.
Blood of the Lamb.
His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. |5Are you saved?5| All are washed in the blood of the lamb. |6God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars.6| Elijah is coming. Dr John Alexander Dowie,º restorer of the church in Zion,º is coming. (3Is coming. Is coming. Is coming.
coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!! Is coming! Is coming!! Is
(5All heartily welcome. All heartily welcome.5)
Paying game. |6|aTorry and Alexander last year.a| Polygamy. His wife will put the stopper on that.6| Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix(3.?3) Our Saviourº. Wake up in the dead of night and see (3it him3) on the wall, hanging. Pepper's ghost idea. Iron (3Nails Ran nails ran3) (4In in4).
Phosphorusº it must be done with. If
you leave a bit of codfish for instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to
the pantry in the kitchen. |7Don't like all the smells in it waiting to |aget rusha| out.7| What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. |6Thinking of Spain|7.7|6| Before Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny. Very good for the brain.
From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk.
Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Must be selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the (3brother father3). Lobbing about waiting for (3the father him3). Home always breaks up when the mother goes(3:.3) Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost. That's in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? |6Eat you out of house and home.6| No families themselves to feed. Living on the fat of the land. |6Their butteries and larders|7.7| |9I'd like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for fear he'd collapse on the altar.9|6| A housekeeper of one of those fellows if you could pick it out of her. Never pick it out of her|4:.4| |6Like getting £.s.d.º out of him.6| |5Does himself well.5| |7No guests. |9All for number one. Watching his water.9| Bring your own bread and butter.7| |4his His4| reverence|err: mum's. Mum'sºerr| the word.
As he set foot on O'Connell bridge a puffball of smoke plumed up from the parapet. Brewery barge with export stout. England. Sea air sours it, I heard. Be interesting some day get a pass through (3Hitchcock Hancock3) to see the brewery. Regular |6town world6| in itself. Vats of porter(3,3) wonderful. Rats get in too. Drink themselves bloated as big as a collie floating. Dead drunk on the porter. Drink till they puke (3again3) like christians. Imagine drinking that(3.!3) Rats: vats. Well(3,3) of course(3,3) if we knew all the things.
Looking down he saw flapping strongly, wheeling between the gaunt
quaywallsº, gulls. Rough weather outside.
(3If I threw myself
Reuben3) J's son
must have swallowed a good bellyful of that sewage.
(3One and eightpence too
much. Hhhhm. It's the droll way he comes out with the things.
how to tell a story too.6|3)
(3⇒3) They wheeled lower. Looking for grub. Wait.
He threw down among them a crumpled paper ball. Elijah thirtytwo feet per (3second sec3) is (3coming com3). Not a bit. The ball bobbed unheeded on the wake of swells, floated under by the bridgepiersº. Not such damn fools. |6Also the day I threw that stale cake out of the Erin's King picked it up in the wake fifty yards astern. Live by their wits.6| They wheeled, flapping.
The hungry famished gullº
Flaps o'er the waters dull.
That is how poets write, the similar sounds. But then Shakespeare has no rhymes: blank verse. The flow of the language it is. The thoughts. Solemn(3.3)
Hamlet, I am thy father's spirit
Doomed for a certain time to walk the earth(3.3)
— Two apples a penny(3.!3) Two for a penny(3.!3)
His gaze passed over the glazed apples serried on her stand. Australians they must be this time of year. Shiny peels: polishes them up with a rag or a handkerchief.
(3Wait, those Wait. Those3) poor birds.
He halted (3again3) and bought from the old applewoman two Banbury cakes for a penny and broke the brittle paste and threw its (3pieces fragments3) down into the Liffey. See that? The gulls swooped silently,º two, then all(3,3) from their heights, pouncing on prey. Gone. Every morsel.
(3⇒3) Aware of their greed and cunning he shook the powdery crumb from his hands. They never expected that. Manna. Live on fish,º fishy flesh they have,º all seabirdsº, gulls, seagoose. |9|11Swans from Anna Liffey |acome swima| down here sometimes to preen themselves. No accounting for tastes.11| Wonder what kind is swanmeat.9| Robinson Crusoe had to live on them.
flapping weakly. I'm not going to throw any more. Penny
quite enough. Lot of thanks I get.
(3Not even a
spread foot and mouth disease
too.6| If you
chestnut meal3) it
tastes like that.
pig like pig.5|
But then why is it that saltwater fish are not salty? How is that?
His eyes sought answer (3on from3) the river and saw a rowboat rock at anchor on the treacly swells lazily its plastered board.
(3⇐3) |7Hyam's |10Kino's Kino'sº10|7|
(3⇐3) |511/-5| |6|1011/- 11/-º10|6|
(3⇐3) |10Trousers. Trousersº10|
Good idea that. Wonder if he pays rent to the corporation. How can you own
water really? It's always flowing in a stream, never the same, which in the
stream of life we trace. Because life is a stream. All kinds of places are good
for ads. That quack doctorº for the clap
used to be stuck up in all the greenhouses. Never see it now. Strictly
confidential. Dr Hy Franks. Didn't cost him a
Got fellows to stick them up or stick them up himself for that matter on the
q.t. running in to loosen a button.
Just the place too.
No Bills. Post 110 Pills.
POST NO BILLS. POST
110 PILLS. Some chap with
If he …?º
No … No.º
No(3.,3) no. I don't believe it. He wouldn't surely?
Mr Bloom moved forward,º raising his troubled eyes. Think no more about that. After one. (3The timeball Timeballº3) on the ballast officeº is down. Dunsink time. Fascinating little book that is of sirº Robert Ball's. Parallax. I never exactly understood. |5There's a priest. Could ask him.5| Par it's Greek: parallel(3,3) parallax. Met him pike hosesº she called (3him it3) till I told her about the transmigration (3idea3). O rocks!
Mr Bloom smiled O rocks at two windows of the ballast
officeº. She's right after all.
Only3) big words for
ordinary things on account of the sound. She's not exactly witty.
be rude too.
Blurt out what I was
I don't know. She used to say Ben Dollard had a base barreltone voice. He
has legs like barrels and you'd think he was singing into a barrel. Now,
They used to call him big Ben.
Not3) half as witty as
calling him base barreltone. |7Appetite like
an albatross. Get outside of a baron of beef.7| Powerful man he was (3for at3) stowingº away number one Bass. Barrel of Bass. See? It all works out.
A procession of whitesmocked
marched slowly towards him along the gutter, scarlet sashes across their boards.
Bargains. Like that priest they are this morning: we have sinned: we have
suffered. He read the scarlet letters on their five tall white
H. E. L. Y. S. Wisdom Hely's. Y lagging behind drew a
chunk of bread from
under3) his foreboard,
crammed it into his mouth and munched as he walked.
food.6| Three bob
a day, walking along the gutters, street after street. Just keep skin and bone
together, bread and skilly. They are not Boyl:
M'Glade's men. Doesn't bring in any business either. I suggested
to him about a transparent showcartº with
girls sitting inside writing
copybooks, envelopes, blottingpaperº. I
bet that would have caught on.
smart young girls. Always Smart girls writing
something3) catch the
(3Everyone dying to know what
twenty of them round you if you stare at
a finger in the
|8Women too. Curiosity.
Wouldn't have it of course because he didn't think of it himself
first. |7Or the inkbottle I
suggested with a
false stain of black
|5His ideas for ads like
potted under the
can't lick 'em.
where are you going?
Robinson,6| I am
hastening to purchase the only reliable inkeraser
Kansell, sold by Hely's Ltd, 85 Dame streetº.5| Well out of that ruck I am. Devil of a job it was collecting accounts of those convents. Tranquilla convent. That was a nice nun there, really sweet face. |6Wimple suited her small head.6| Sister? Sister? I am sure she was crossed in love by her eyes. Very hard to bargain with that sort of (3a3) woman. I disturbed her at her devotions that morning. |6But glad to communicate with the outside world.6| Our great day, she said. Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Sweet name too: caramel. She knew Iº, I think she knew by the way she. If she had married she would have changed. I suppose they really were short of money. (3Fried everything in the best butter all the same. |5No lard for them. My heart's broke eating dripping. They like buttering themselves in and out. Molly
tasting it, her veil up.5|3) Sister? |5Pat Claffey, the pawnbroker's daughter.5| (3And yet it It3) was a nun (3they say3) invented barbed wire.
He crossed Westmoreland street when (3apostrophe3) S had plodded by (3towards the.3) Rover cycleshop. (3Those races are on today.3) How long ago is that? Year Phil Gilligan died. We were in Lombard street west. (3Wait:º was in Thom's. Got the job in Wisdom Hely's year we married. Six years.3) Ten years ago: ninetyfour (3he died(4,º4) yes that's right(5,5) the big fire at Arnott's3). (3Val Dillon was lord mayor.3) |7The Glencree dinner. Aldermanº Robert O'Reilly emptying the port into his soup before the flag fell.º Bobbob lapping it |afor the inner aldermana|. Couldn't hear what the band played. |aWhat for For whata| we have already received may the Lord make us.7| Milly was a kiddy then. Molly had that |6elephant grey elephantgrey6| dress with the braided frogs (3on it3). |6Mantailored with selfcoveredº buttons.6| She didn't like it because I sprained my ankle first day she wore (4it,º4) choir picnic (3on Killiney hill at the Sugarloaf3). As if that. |5Old Goodwin's tall hat done up with some sticky stuff. Flies' picnic too.5| Never put a dress on her back like it. Fitted her like a glove, shouldersº and hips. Just beginning to plump it out well. Rabbit pieº we had that day. People looking after her.
Happy. Happier then. Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper.º |5Dockrell's, one and ninepence a dozen.5| Milly's tubbing night. American soap I bought: elderflower. Cosy smell of her bathwater. Funny she looked soaped all over. Shapely too. |7Now photography. Poor papa's |13'daguerrotype daguerreotypeº13'| atelier he told me of. Hereditary taste.7|
He walked along the curbstone.
Stream of life. What was the name of that priestylooking chap was always
squinting in when he passed?
Citron's saint Kevin's parade. Pen something. Pendennis? My memory is
getting. Pen …?
course it's years ago. Noise of the trams probably. Well, if he
couldn't remember the dayfather's name that he sees every
Bartell d'Arcy was the tenor, just coming out then. Seeing her home after practice. Conceited fellow with his waxedup moustache. Gave her that song Winds that blow from the south.
Windy night that was I went to fetch her (3there was that lodge
meeting on about those lottery tickets3) after Goodwin's concert in the supperroomº |8or oakroom8| of the Mansionº house. He and I behind. Sheet of her music blew out of my hand against the high school railings. Lucky it didn't. Thing like that spoils (3the3) effect of a night for her. Professor Goodwin linking her in front. Shaky on his pins, poor old sot. |5His farewell concerts. |aPositively last appearance on any stage.a| May be for months and may be for never.5| Remember her laughing at the wind(3,3) her blizzard collar up. Corner of Harcourt road remember that gust(3.?3) Brrfoo! Blew up all her skirts and her boa nearly smothered old Goodwin. She did get flushed in the wind. Remember when we got home raking up the fire and frying up those pieces of lap of mutton for her |10supper10| with the Chutney sauce she liked. And the mulled rum. Could see her in the bedroom from the hearth |6rug6| |5unclasping unclamping the busk of5| her stays(3: white. White3).
Swish and soft flop her stays made on the bed. Always warm from her. Always liked to let (3her self herself3) out. Sitting there after till near two(3,3) taking out her hairpins. Milly tucked up in beddyhouse. Happy. Happy. That was the night …
— (3O, |5O O,5|3) Mr Bloom, how do you do?
— (3O, |5O O,5|3) how do you do, Mrs Breen?
— No use complaining. How is Molly those times? Haven't seen her for ages.
— In the pink, Mr Bloom said gaily.º |6Milly's Milly has a position6| down in Mullingar, you know.
— |5Is that so? Go away!5| |6Isn't that grand for her?6|
— (3Yes. In Yes, in3) a photographer's there. Getting on like a house on fire. How are all your charges?
— All on the baker's list, Mrs Breen said.
How many has she? No other in sight.
— You're in black(3,3) I see. You have no …(3?3)
— No, Mr Bloom said. I have just come from a funeral.
dear me, Mrs Breen
I hope it wasn't any near
May as well get her sympathy.
— Dignam, Mr Bloom said. An old friend of mine. He died quite
suddenly, poor fellow. Heart trouble, I believe. Funeral was this morning.
funeral's tomorrow Your funeral's
(4While you're coming through the rye. While you're coming through the rye.4)
(4Diddlediddle dumdum Diddlediddle dumdum4)
(4Diddlediddle Diddlediddle4) …
— Sad to lose the old friends, Mrs Breen's womaneyes said melancholily.
Now that's quite enough about that. Just:º quietly: husband.
— And your lord and master?
Mrs Breen turned up her two large eyes. Hasn't lost them anyhow.
— O, don't be talking(3!,3) she said. He's a caution (3to rattlesnakes3). He's in there now with his lawbooks finding out the law of libel. He has me heartscalded. Wait till I show you.
Hot mockturtle vapour and steam of newbaked jampuffs |6rolypoly6| poured out from Harrison's. The heavy noonreek tickled the top of Mr Bloom's gullet. |7Want to make good pastry, butter, best flour, Demerara sugar, or they'd taste it with the hot tea.7| |9Or is it from her?9| A barefoot arab stood over the grating,º breathing in the fumes. Deaden the gnaw of hunger that way. |6Pleasure or pain is it?6| |5Penny dinner.5| |9Knife and fork chained to the table.9|
Opening her handbag, chipped leather. Hatpinº: ought to have a guard on those things. Stick it in a chap's eye in the tram. Rummaging. |5Open. Money. Please take one. Devils if they lose sixpence. Raise Cain. Husband barging. Where's the ten shillings I gave you on Monday|~.?º~|5| |6Areº you feeding your little brother's family?6| Soiled handkerchief(3.:3) (3Medicine bottle |10medicine bottle medicinebottle10|3). |7Pastille that was fell.7| What is she …?º
— There must be a new moon out, she said. He's always bad then. Do you know what he did last night?
Her hand ceased to rummage. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, wide in alarm, yet smiling.
— What? Mr Bloom asked.
Let her speak. Look straight in her eyes. I believe you. Trust me.
— Woke me up in the night, she said. Dream he had(3,3) a nightmare.
— Said the ace of spades was walking up the stairs.
— The ace of spades! Mr Bloom said.
She took a folded postcard from her handbag.
— Read that, she said. He got it this morning.
— What is it? Mr Bloom asked, taking the card. U. P.?
— U. P:º up, she said. Someone taking a rise out of him. It's a great shame for them whoever he is.
— Indeed it is, Mr Bloom said.
She took back the card, sighing.
— And now he's going round to Mr Menton's office. He's going to take an action for ten thousand pounds, he says.
She folded the card (3back3) into her untidy bag and snapped the catch.
Same blue serge dress she had two years ago, the nap bleaching. Seen its best days. Wispish hair over her ears. And that (3dusty looking dowdy3) toque(3:,3) three old (3cherries grapes3) to take the harm out of it. |5Shabby genteel. |7Relics of old decency7|5| She used to be a |6smart tasty6| dresser. Lines round her mouth. Only a year or (3two so3) older than Molly.
See the eye that woman gave her, passing. Cruel. |6The unfair sex.6|
He looked still at her, holding back behind his look his discontent. Pungent mockturtle(3,3) oxtail(3,3) mulligatawny. I'm hungry too. (3A few flakes Flakes3) of pastry on the gusset of her dress: daub of sugary flour stuck to her cheek. |6|7Tart Rhubarb tart7| with liberal fillings, rich fruit interior.6| (3Floey Josie3) Powell that was. |7In Luke Doyle's longº ago.º Dolphin's Barn, the charades.7| U. P:º up.
Change the subject.
— Do you ever see anything of Mrs Beaufoy(3?,3) Mr Bloom asked.
— Mina Purefoy? she said.
Philip Beaufoy I was thinking. Playgoers' (3Club club3). Matcham often thinks of the masterstroke. (3Did I pull the chain? |7Yes. The last act.7|3)
— I just called (3over3) to ask (3on the way in3) is she over it. She's in the (3maternity |6lyingin lying-in6|3) hospital in Holles street. Dr Horne got her in. She's three days bad now.
— O, Mr Bloom said. I'm sorry to hear that.
— Yes, Mrs Breen said. And a houseful of kids at home. It's a very stiff birth, the nurse told me.
— O, Mr Bloom said.
His heavy pitying gaze absorbed her news. His tongue clacked in compassion. Dth! Dth!
— I'm sorry to hear that, he said. Poor thing! Three days(3.!3) That's terrible for her.
Mrs Breen nodded.
— She was taken bad on the Tuesday …
Mr Bloom touched her funnybone gently, warning her:º
— Mind! Let this man pass.
A bony form strode along the curbstone from the river(3,3) staring with a rapt gaze into the sunlight through a heavystringedº glass. Tight as a skullpiece a tiny hat gripped his head. From his arm a folded dustcoat, a stick and an umbrella dangled to his stride.
— Watch him, Mr Bloom said. He always walks outside the lampposts. Watch(3.!3)
— Who is he |6when he's at home if it's a fair question6|?º Mrs Breen asked. Is he dotty?
— His name is Cashel Boyle O'Connor Fitzmaurice Tisdall Farrell, Mr Bloom said(3,3) smiling. Watch(3.!3)
— He has enough of them, she said. Denis will be like that one of these days.
She broke off suddenly.
— There he is, she said. I must go after him. Goodbyeº. Remember me to Molly, won't you?
— I will, Mr Bloom said.
He watched her dodge through passers towards the shopfronts. Denis Breen in
skimpy frockcoat and blue canvas shoes shuffled out of
Harrison'sº hugging two heavy tomes
to his ribs.
in from the bay.6|
Like old times. He suffered her to overtake him without surprise
and thrust his dull grey beard towards her, his loose jaw wagging as he spoke earnestly.
|9Meshuggah.9| Off his chump.
Mr Bloom walked on again easily, seeing ahead of him in sunlight the tight skullpiece, the dangling stickumbrelladustcoatº. Going the two days. Watch him(3.!3) Out he goes again. |6One way of getting on in the world.6| And that other old mosey lunatic |7in those duds7|. Hard time she must have with him.
U. P:º up. I'll take my oath that's Alf Bergan or Richie Goulding. Wrote it for a lark in the Scotch houseº I bet anything. Round to Menton's office. His oyster eyes staring at the postcard. Be a (3sight feast3) for the gods.
He passed the Irish Times. There might be other answers lying there.
to answer them all.
Good system for
At their lunch now. Clerk with the glasses there doesn't know me. O,
them stay there
le leave them there
Enough bother wading through fortyfour of them.
typist to aid gentleman in literary work. I called you naughty darling because I
do not like that other world. Please tell me what is the meaning. Please tell me
your wife. Tell me who made the world. The way they spring those questions on
you. And the other one Lizzie Twigg. My literary efforts have had the good
fortune to meet with the approval of the eminent
poet A. E(3.3) (Mr Geo.º Russell). No time to do her hair drinking sloppy tea with a book of poetry.
Best paper (3by long
chalks3) for a small
ad. |6Got the provinces now.
Cook and general,
kept. Wanted live man
for spirit counter.
Resp. girl (R.C.)
wishes to hear of post in fruit or pork
Carlisle made that. Six and a half per cent dividend.
|6Made a big deal on
All the toady news. Our gracious and popular vicereine. Bought the Irish
Field now. Lady Mountcashel has
after her confinement and rode out with the
staghounds at the
too. Fear injects
juices make it
her horse like a man.º Weightcarrying huntress.6| No sidesaddle |6or pillion6| for her, not for Joe. First to the meet and in at the death.5| Strong as a brood mare some of those horsey women. |9Swagger around livery stables.9| Toss off a glass of (3raw3) brandy (3neat3) while you'd say knife. That one at the (3Grosvenor Grosvenor3) this morning. Up with her on the car: wishswish. |8Stonewall or fivebarred gate put her mount to it.8| Think that pugnosed (3tramdriver driver3) did it out of spite. |7Who is this she was like? O yes! Mrs Miriam Dandrade that sold me her old wraps and black underclothes in the Shelbourne hotel. Divorced Spanish American. Didn't take a feather out of her my handling them. As if I was her clotheshorse. |9Saw her in the viceregal party when Stubbs the park ranger got me in with Whelan of the Express. Scavengingº what the quality left. High tea. Mayonnaise I poured on the plums thinking it was custard.9| Her ears ought to have tingled for a few weeks after. Want to be a bull for her. Born courtesan. No nursery work for her, thanks.7|
Poor Mrs Purefoy! |5Methodist husband. Method in his madness. Saffron bun and milk |6and soda6| lunch in the educational dairy. |a|~Y.M.C.A.~|ºa| |6Eating with a stopwatch, thirtytwo chews to the minute.6| And stillº his |6muttonchop6| whiskers grew. |6Supposed to be well connected. Theodore's cousin in Dublin Castle. One tony relative in every family.6| Hardy annuals he presents her with. |9Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers |amarching along bareheadeda| and his eldest boy carrying one in a marketnet.9| |a|7Squallers. The squallers.º7|a| Poor thing! |9Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the night.9| |6Selfish those t.t's are. Dog in the manger.6| |9Only one lump of sugar in my tea, if you please.9|5|
He stood at Fleet street crossing.
Rowe's? Must look up that ad in the national library. An eightpenny in the
On my way.
He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house. (3Tea, tea, tea Tea. Tea. Tea3). I forgot to tap Tom Kernan.
Sss3). Dth, dth, dth!
Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a vinegared handkerchief round her
forehead, her belly swollen out.º Phew!
Dreadful simply! Child's head too big: forceps. Doubled up inside her
trying to butt its way out blindly, groping for the way out.
Kill me that would. Lucky Molly got over hers lightly. They ought to invent something to stop that. |6Life with hard labour.6| Twilight sleepº idea: queen Victoria was given that. |6|7Twelve Nine7| she had. |aA good layer.a| Old woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children. Suppose he was consumptive.6| Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the what was it (3the3) pensive bosom of the silver effulgence. |5Flapdoodle to feed fools on.5| They could easily have big establishments(3,3) wholeº thing quite painless(3,3) out of all the taxes give every child born five quid at compound interest up to twentyoneº five per cent is a hundred shillings and five tiresome poundsº multiply by twenty decimal systemº encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit (3twenty one twentyone3) years want to work it out on paper come to a tidy (3sum. More sumº more3) than you think.
Not stillborn of course. They are not even registered. Trouble for nothing.
|6Funny sight two of them together, their bellies out. Molly and Mrs Moisel. Mothers' meeting. Phthisis retires for the time being, then returns.6| How flat they look (3after3) all of a sudden (3after.!3) Peaceful eyes. Weight off their (3mind minds3). Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul. |6|aAll my babies, she said. The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them. O, that's nyumnyumº.a| Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son. His first bow to the public. Head like a prize pumpkin.6| Snuffy (3doctor Dr3) (3Brody |7Brady Murren7|3). People knocking them up at all hours. For God' sakeº(3,3) doctor. Wife in her throes. (3then Then3) keep them waiting months for their (3fees fee3). |6To attendance on your wife.6| (3People are very ungrateful to doctors No gratitude in people3). |5Humane doctors, most of them.5|
|7Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew. Their little frolic after meals. Who will we do it on? I'll I pick the fellow in black. Here goes.º Here's good luck. Must be thrilling from the air. Apjohn, myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys. Mackerel they called me.7|
A squad of constables debouched from College street, marching in Indian
Foodheated faces, sweating helmets, patting their truncheons. After their feed with a good load of fat soup under
their belts. |5Policeman's lot is oft a happy one.5| They split up (3in into3) groups and scattered, saluting,º towards
their beats. Let out to graze. |7Best moment to attack one |9in pudding time9|. A punch in his dinner.7| A squad of others, marching irregularly(3,3) rounded Trinity railings(3,3) making for the station. Bound for their troughs. Prepare to receive cavalry. Prepare to receive soup.
He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger. They did right to put him up over a urinal: meeting of the waters. |5Ought to be places for women. Running into cakeshops. Settle my hat straight.5| (4There is not in this wide world a vallee There is not in this wide world a vallee4). Great song of Julia Morkan's. Kept her voice up to the very last. Pupil of Michael Balfe's, wasn't she?
He gazed after the last broad tunic. Nasty customers to tackle. Jack Power could |6tell a few tales a tale unfold6|: father (3was3) a G(3.3) man. If a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell. Can't blame them after all with the job they have |6especially the young hornies6|. That horsepolicemanº (3they the3) day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his money. My word he did! His horse'sº hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street. Luckyº I had the presenceº of mind to dive into Manning's |8or I was souped8|. He did come a wallop, by George. Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones. I oughtn't to have got myself swept along with those medicals. |8And the Trinity jibs in their mortarboards.8| |6Looking for trouble. Still I got to know that young Dixon who dressed that bite sting for me in the Mater and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy. Wheels within wheels. Police whistle in my ears still.6| (3All skedaddled. Why he fixed on me. |5Give me in charge.5|3) Right here it (3was began3).
— Up the (3boers Boers3)!
— Three cheers for De Wet(3.!3)
— We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree.º
Silly (3game billies3): mob of young cubs yelling their guts out. |5Vinegar hill.5| |7The Butter exchange band.7| Few years'º time half of them magistrates and civil servants. War comes on: into the army helterskelter: same fellows used to(3.:º3) (3Whether whether3) on the scaffold highº.
Never know who you're talking to. Corny Kelleher he has Harvey
Duff in his eye. Like that Peter (3of or3) Denis or James Carey (3that3) blew the gaff on the invincibles. Member of the corporation too. Egging raw youths on to get in the know allº the time drawing secret service pay from the castle. |7Drop him like a hot potato.7| (3Why those plainclothesº men are always courting slaveys. |10Easily twig a man used to uniform.10| Squarepushing up against a backdoor. Maul her a bit. |6Then the next thing on the menu.6| And who is the gentleman
does be visiting there? Was the young master saying anything? Peeping Tom through the |6key hole keyhole6|. Decoy duck. Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing.
— Are those yours, Mary?
— I don't wear such things … Stop or I'll tell the missus on you. Out half the night.
— There are great times coming, Mary. Wait till you see.
— Ah, gelongº with your great times coming.3)
(3Barmaids too. Tobaccoshopgirlsº.3)
(3⇒3) (3Stephen's James Stephens'3) idea was the best. He knew them. Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn't |6inform round6| on more than his own ring. |5Sinn Fein. Back out you get the knife. Hidden hand. Stay in. The firing squad.5| Turnkey'sº daughter got him out of Richmond, off from Lusk(3, putting. Putting3) up in the Buckingham (3palace Palace3) hotel under their very noses. (3Irish3) Garibaldi.
You must have a certain
Parnell. Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he
no3) go in him for the
Want to3) gas about
our lovely land.
republicanism is the best form of government. That the language question
should take precedence of the economic
question.6| Have your
daughters inveigling them to your house.
Stuff3) them up with
meat and drink. |9Michaelmas
Here's a good lump of thyme seasoning under the
apron for you.
Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets
Penny roll and a
walk with the
grace for the
The thoughta| that the other
chap pays best sauce in the
|7Make themselves thoroughly
at home. Show us
over those apricots, meaning
peaches.7| The not
far distant day. Homeruleº sun rising up in the northwest.
His smile faded as he walked, a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly, shadowing Trinity's surly front. Trams passed one another, ingoing, outgoing, clanging. Useless words. Things go on|6:6| same:º day after day: squads of police marching out, back: trams in, out. Those two loonies mooching about. Dignam carted off. Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her. One born every second somewhere. (3Another Other3) dying every second. Since I fed the birds five minutes. Three hundred kicked the bucket. Other three hundred born, washing the blood off, (3all are washed in the blood of the lamb,3) bawling maaaaaa.
Cityful passing away, other cityful
passing away too: other coming on, passing on. Houses, lines of houses,
streets3), miles of pavements,
(3piled up piledup3) bricks, stones. Changing hands. This owner, that. Landlord never dies they say. Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit. They buy the place (3up3) with gold and (3then still3) they have (3all3) the (3place and3) gold (3as well3). (3Of course there's a swindle Swindle3) in it somewhere. Piled up in cities, worn away age after age. Pyramids in sand. |5Built on bread and onions. Slaves |6chinese Chineseº6| wall.5| Babylon. Big stones left. |5Round towers|6.6|5| Rest rubble, sprawling suburbs, jerrybuilt.º Kerwan's |5mushroom5| houses(3,3) built of breeze. Shelter(3,3) for the night.
No-oneº is anything.
This is the very worst hour of the day. (3Vitality.3) Dull, gloomy(3.:3) (3I feel. Hate hate3) this hour. (3Feelº as if I had been eaten and spewed.3)
(3⇒3) Provost's house. The reverend (3tinned Dr3) Salmon (3D.D.: tinned salmon3). Well tinned in there. (3Like a mortuary chapel.3) Wouldn't live in it if they paid me. Hope they have liver and bacon today. |5Nature abhors a vacuum.5|
the3) brother. Image
him3). Haunting face.
Now that's a coincidence. Course hundreds of times you think of a person
and don't meet him. Like a man walking in his sleep. No-one knows him. Must
be a corporation meeting today. They say he never put on the city marshal's
uniform since he got the job. Charley
Kavanaghº4) used to
come out on his (3high3) horse, cocked hat, puffed, powdered and shaved. Look at the woebegone walk of him. |5Eaten a bad egg. |aI have a pain. Poached eyes on ghost. Poached eyes on ghost|6.6| I have a pain.a|5| Great man's brother: his brother's brother. |9He'd look nice on the city charger.9| Drop into the (3DBC D.B.C.3) probably for his coffee(3,3) play chess there(3.3) |6His brother used men as pawns.6| (3let Let3) them all go to pot. Afraid to pass a remark on him. Freeze them up with that eye of his. That's the fascination(3. The: the3) name. |6All a bit touched. Mad Fanny and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet |areins harnessa|.6| |7Bolt upright like surgeon M'Ardle.7| Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath. |6Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life.6| |7The patriot's |9end banquet9|. Eating orangepeels in the park.7| Simon Dedalus said when they put him in parliament that Parnell would come back from the grave and lead him out of the |s5house of commons House of Commonss5| by the arm.
— Of the twoheaded octopus, one of whose heads is the head upon which the ends of the world (3are about have forgotten3) to come while the other speaks with a Scotch accent. The tentacles …
They passed from behind Mr Bloom along the curbstone. Beard and bicycle. Young woman.
And there he is (3too.3) (3now Now3) that's really a coincidence(3. Second time: second timeº3). |5Coming events cast their shadows before.5| With the approval of the eminent poet(3,3) Mr Geo(3.3) Russell. That might be Lizzie Twigg with him. (3A.E: A. E.:3) whatº does that mean(3.?3) Initials perhaps. Albert Edward, Arthur Edmund, Alphonsus Eb Ed El Esquire. What was he saying? The ends of the world with a Scotch accent. Tentacles: octopus(3:.3) (3that's some Something occult:3) symbolism. Holding forth. She's taking it all in. Not saying a word. To aid gentleman in literary work.
followed3) the high
figure in homespun, beard and bicycle, a listening woman at his side. Coming
from the vegetarian. Only
eat a beefsteak. If you do the eyes of that cow will pursue you through all
eternity.6| They say
though. Tried it
you on the run all day.
|7Bad as a
night.5| Why do
they call that thing they gave me nutsteak?
Fruitarians.6| To give you the idea you are
eating rumpsteak. Absurd. |6Salty too. They cook in soda. Keep you sitting by the tap all night.6|
Her stockings are loose over her ankles. I detest that(3. So: so3) tasteless. Those literary (erretherial etherealºerr) people they are all. Dreamy, cloudy, symbolistic. Esthetes they are. I wouldn't be surprisedº if it was that kind of food you see produces the like waves of the brain the poetical. For example one of those (3policeman policemen3) sweating (3soup Irish stew3) into their shirtsº you couldn't squeeze (3a line of3) poetry out of him. Don't know what poetry is even. Must be in a certain mood.
The dreamy cloudy gull
Waves o'er the waters dull.º
He crossed at Nassau street corner and stood before the window of Yeates and
Son, pricing the fieldglassesº. Or will I
drop into old Harris's and have a chat with young
Probably at his lunch. Must get those old glasses of mine set right.
(3Germans making their way
everywhere. Sell on easy terms to capture
Might chance on a pair in the railway lost property office. Astonishing the
things people leave behind them in trains and
cloakroomsº. What do they be thinking
about? Women too. Incredible.
|6Last year travelling to
Ennis had to pick up
that farmer's daughter's
back bag and
hand it to her at Limerick junction.
too.6| There's a
little watch up there on the roof of the bank to test those glasses by.
His lids came down on the lower rims of his |6irises irides6|. Can't see it. If you imagine it's there you can almost see it. Can't see it.
He faced about and, standing between the awnings, held out his right hand at arm's length towards the sun. Wanted to try that often. Yes: completely. The tip of his little finger blotted out the sun's disk. Must be the focus where the rays cross. If I had black glasses. Interesting. There was a lot of talk about those sunspots when we were in Lombard street west. (3Looking up from the back garden.3) Terrific explosions they are. There will be a total eclipse this year(3,:3) autumn some time.
Now that I come to think
that ball falls at Greenwich time.
It's the clock is worked by an electric wire from Dunsink. Must go out there some first Saturday of the month. If I could get an introduction to professor Joly or learn up something about his family. That would do to: man always feels complimented. |6Flattery where least expected. |9Nobleman proud to be descended from some king's mistress. His foremother.9| Lay it on with a trowel. Cap in hand goes through the land.6| |5Not go in and blurt out |7what you know you're not to7|: what's parallax? Show this gentleman the door.5|
His hand fell (3again3) to his side (3again3).
Never know anything about it. Waste of time. Gasballs spinning about, crossing each other, passing. Same old dingdong always. Gas(3,|5:,5|3) then solid(3,|5:,5|3) then world(3,|5:,5|3) then cold(3,|5:,5|3) then dead shell drifting around, frozen rock(3,3) like that pineapple rock. The moon. Must be a new moon out, she said. I believe there is.
He went on by la Maisonº Claire.
Wait. The full moon was the night we were Sunday fortnight exactly there is a new moon. Walking down by the Tolka. |7Not bad for a Fairview moon.7| She was humming(3.:3) The young (3may May3) moon she's beaming, love.º He other side of her. (3Elbow. Fingers Elbow, arm3). He. Glowworm's |6laamp la-ampº6| is gleaming, love.º Touch(3,.3) Fingers. Asking. Answer. Yes.
Stop. Stop. If it was it was. Must.
Mr Bloom, quickbreathingº, slowlier walking(3,3) passed Adam court.
With |4ha a4| (3quiet3) keep quiet reliefº his eyes took note|5:5| this is |s5thes5|º street here middle of the day (3of3) Bob Doran's bottle shoulders. On his annual bend, M'Coy said. |6They drink in order to say or do something or cherchez la femme.6| Up in the Coombe with chummies and streetwalkers and then the rest of the year (3as3) sober as a judge.
Yes. Thought so.
Sloping into3) the
soda would do
him good.6| Where Pat Kinsella hadº his Harp theatre |7before Whitbredº ran the Queen's7|. Broth of a boy|7.7| Dion Boucicault business with his harvestmoon face in a poky bonnet. Three Purty Maids from School.º How time flies,º eh? Showing long red pantaloons under his skirts. Drinkers, drinking, laughed |7spluttering, their drink against their
breath7|. (3Good man More power3), Pat. Coarse red: fun for drunkards: guffaw and smoke. |6Take off that white hat.6| His parboiled eyes. Where is he now(3.?3) Beggar somewhere. The harp that once did starve us all.
I was happier then. Or was that I? Or am I now I? Twentyeight I was. She twentythree. |6Whenº we left Lombard street west something changed. Could never like it again after Rudy.6| Can't bring back time. Like holding water in your hand. Would (3I you3) go back to then? Just beginning then. Would you? Are you not happy (3then3) in your (3life home,3) you poor little naughty boy? (3Wants to sew on buttons for me.3) I must answer. Write it in the library.
Grafton street gay with housed awnings (3lured his senses3). Muslin prints, (3silk dames passing silkdamesº and dowagers3), jingle of harnesses, hoofthuds (3soft ringing lowringing3) (3on in3) the (3cooking baking3) causeway. Thick (3ankles feet3) that woman hasº in the white stockings. |5Hope the rain mucks them up on her.5| Countrybredº |5chawbacon5|. (3Beef All the beef3) to the heels were in. Always gives a woman clumsy feet. Molly looks out of (4shape plumb4).
He passed, dallying,º the (3window windows3) of Brown Thomas, silk mercers. |6Cascades of ribbons. Flimsy China silks.6| A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood. The huguenots brought that here. (3(4Lacaus esant tara tara |6Lacaus esant La causa è santa!º6| Tara taraº4). Great chorus that. Taree taraº.3) Must be washed in rainwater. (3Meyerbeer. Tara: bom bom bomº.3)
He bared slightly his left forearm. Scrape: nearly gone. Not today anyhow. Must go back for that lotion. For her birthday perhaps. (3June, July, Augseptember Junejulyaugseptemberº3) eighth. Nearly three months off. Then she mightn't like it. Women won't pick up pins. Say (3its it3) cuts lo.
Gleaming silks, petticoats on slim brass rails, rays of (3flat3) silk stockings.
Useless to go back. Had to be. Tell me all.
High voices. (3Sunwarmth. Silk Sunwarm silk3). Jingling harnesses. (3Women, women. All for a woman, home and houses, silkwebsº, silver, rich fruitsº spicy from Jaffa. Agendath Netaim. Wealth of the world.3)
A warm human plumpness settled down on his brain. His brain
yielded. (3Perfumes of embraces assailed him Perfume of embraces all him assailed3). (3His With3) hungered flesh obscurely, (3he3) mutely craved to adore.
Duke street. Here we are. Must eat. The Burton. Feel better then.
He turned Combridge's corner, still pursued. Jingling,º hoofthuds. Perfumed bodies, warm, full. All kissed, yielded: in deep summer fields, tangled pressed grass, in trickling hallways of tenements, along sofas, creaking beds(3, chairs3).
— Jack, love!
— Kiss me, |11Reggie Reggy11|!
— My boy!
Men, men, men.
(3Squatted Perched3) on high stools by the bar, hats shoved back, at the tables(3,3) calling for more bread(3,3) no charge, swilling, wolfing gobfuls of sloppy food, their eyes bulging, wiping wetted moustaches. |6A pallid |8suetfaced8| young man polished his tumbler knife fork and spoon with his napkin. New set of microbes.6| A man with (3a an3) infant's |5saucestained5| napkin tucked round him |5spooned shovelled5| gurgling soup down his gullet. |5|6Spoonfed.6|5| A man spitting back on his plate: |6halfmasticated6| gristle: (4gums:º4) no teeth to |6chew chewchewchew6| it. Chump chop |6he has from the grill6|. |5Bolting to get it over.5| Sad booser's eyes. |5Bitten off more than he can chew. Am I like that? See ourselves as others see us. Hungry man is an angry man. Working tooth and jaw.5| |6Don't! O! |aA bone!a| That last pagan king of Ireland Cormac in the schoolpoem choked himself at Sletty southward of the Boyne. Wonder what |9he9| was eating. |aSomething galoptious.a| Saint Patrick converted him to Christianity. Couldn't swallow it all however.6|
— Roast beef and cabbage.
— One stew.
His gorge rose.º
Couldn't eat a morsel here. |5Fellow sharpening knife and fork |6toº eat all before him,6| old chap picking his tootles. |6Slight spasm, full, chewing the cud.6| Before and after. |8Grace after meals.8| Look on this picture |aand thena| on that. Scoffing up stewgravy with |6sopping sippets of6| bread. Lick it off the plate, man!5| Get out of |6it this6|.
He gazed round the stooled and tabled eaters, tightening the wings of his nose.
— Two stouts here.
— One corned and cabbage.
That fellow ramming a knifeful of cabbage down |6as if his life depended on it6|. |5Good stroke.5| Give me the fidgets to look (3at him3). |6|aRather Safera| to eat from his three hands. Tear it limb from limb.6| (3Like second Second3) nature to him. Born with a silver knife in his mouth. That's witty, I think. Or no. Silver means born rich. Born with a knife. But then the allusion is lost.
An illgirt server gathered sticky clattering plates. Rock, the (3head3) bailiff, standing at the bar blew the foamy crown from his tankard. Well up: it splashed yellow near his boot. |6A diner, knife and fork upright, elbows on table, ready for a second helping stared towards the foodlift |12|+across his stained square of newspaperº+|12|. Other chap telling him something with his mouth full. Sympathetic listener. Table talk. I munched hum un thu Unchster Bunkº un Munchday. Ha? Did you|7, faith7|?6|
Mr Bloom raised (3his two3) fingers (3doubtfully3) to his lips (3doubtfully3). His eyes said:
— Not here. Don't see him.
(3⇒3) He backed towards the door. Get |6something light a light snack6| in Davy Byrne's (3next door3). |6Stopgap.6| Keep me going. Had a good breakfast.
— Roast and mashed here.
— Pint of stout.
Every fellow for his own, tooth and nail. (3Gulp grub gulp. Gulp. Grub. Gulp. |7Gobstuff.7|3)
He came out into clearer air and turned back towards Grafton street(3.3) (3Eat or be eaten.3) |6Kill! Kill!6|
Suppose that communal
years3) to come
down with |6a porringer porringers and tommycans6| to be filled(3,.3) |6Devour contents in the street.6| John Howard Parnell(3,3) example(3,3) the provost of Trinity(3,3)|s5|6;6|s5| (3everybody every mother's son3) (4don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinityº4)(3,3) women and children(5,5) (3and3) cabmen(5,5) (3and3) priests|5,5| (3and3) parsons|5,5| (3and3) (3field marshals fieldmarshals|5,5|3) (3and3) archbishops(3,3)|5.5| |6From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union|11, lord mayor in his gingerbread coach, |aolda| queen in a bathchair11|.6| |5|amy Mya| plate's empty. After you withº |~the~| |11our11| |ain corporated drinkingcup incorporated |12drinking cup drinkingcup12|a|.5| |6Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his.6| (4Father O'Flynn would make hares of them all Father O'Flynn would make hares of them allº4). |6Have rows all the same. |7All for number one.7| Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot.6| Want a souppotº as big as the Phoenix parkº. |6Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it.6| |9Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it. Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing.9| Then who'd wash up
all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.
After all there's a lot in that vegetarian (3the3) fine (3flavours flavour3) of things from the earth garlic of courseº it stinks (3after3) (3Italians Italian organgrinders3) crisp of onions|6,6| mushrooms|6,6| (3truffles3). Pain to the animal too. |9Pluck and draw fowl.9| (3Poor wretched Wretched3) brutes there at the (3cattle market cattlemarket3) waiting for the poleaxe to split their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering bob. Bubble and squeak. Butchers' buckets (3wobbly wobble3) lights. (3Give us that brisket off the hook. Plup. |6Rawhead and bloody bones.6| Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Top and lashers going out. Don't maul them pieces, young one.3)
Ah, I'm hungry.
What will I take
(3He drew his
watch.3) Let me see
— Hello, Bloom,º Nosey Flynn said from his nook.
— Hello, Flynn.
— (3How is things going How's things3)?
— Tiptop … Let me see. I'll take a glass of burgundy and(3 …3) let me see.
Sardines on the shelves. |6|aAlmost taste them by looking.a| Sandwich? Ham and his descendants (errmusterred musteredºerr) and bred there.6| Potted meats. What is home without Plumtree's potted meat?º Incomplete. What a stupid ad(3.!3) (3Right under Under3) the obituary notices (3too they stuck it3). |6All up a plumtree.6| Dignam's potted meat. (3Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White |9men missionary9| too salty. Like pickled pork.3) |9Expect the chief consumes the parts of honour. Ought to be tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch the effect.9| |11There was a right royal old nigger. Who ate or something the somethings of the reverend Mr MacTrigger.11| With it an abode of bliss.º Lord knows what concoction. (3Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked |8and minced8| up. |6Puzzle find the meat.6| Kosher. |6No meat and milk together.6| Hygiene that was what they call now.3) |5Yom Kippurº fast spring cleaning of inside. Peace and war depend on some fellow's digestion. Religions. Christmas turkeys and geese. Slaughter of innocents. Eat,º drink and be merry. Then casual wards full after.5| |6Heads bandaged.º6| |5Cheese digests all but itself. Mityº cheese.5|
— Have you a cheese sandwich?
— Yes, sir.
Like a few olives too if they had them. |6Italian I prefer.6| Good glass of burgundyº take away that (3feeling3). |5Lubricate.5| (3A |6cool nice6| salad|6, cool as a cucumber6|. Tom Kernan can dress|6 ….6|3) |6Puts gusto into it. |11Pure olive oil.11| |8First catch your hare. Milly served me that cutlet with a sprig of parsley.8|6| |5Take one Spanish onion. God made food, the devil the cooks. Devilled crab.5|
— Wife well?
— Quite well, thanks … A cheese sandwich, then. Gorgonzola, have you?
— Yes, sir.
Nosey Flynn sipped his grog.
— Doing any singing those times?
(3Look at his mouth. Could whistle in his own ear.3) Flap ears (3to match3). Music. Knows as much about it as my coachman. Still better tell him. Does no harm. |6Free ad.6|
— She's engaged for a big tour end of this month. You may have heard perhaps.
— No. O, that's the style. Who's getting it up?
The (3barman3) curate served.
— How much is that?
— Seven (3d, d.,3) sir … Thank you, sir.
Mr Bloom cut his sandwich into slender strips. |11Mr MacTrigger. Easier than the dreamy creamy stuff. His five hundred wives. Had the time of their lives.11|
— Mustard, sir(3.?3)
— Thank you.
He studded under each lifted strip yellow blobs (3carefully3). |11Their lives. I have it. It grew bigger and bigger and bigger.11|
— Getting it up? he said. Well, it's like a company idea, you see. Part shares and part profits.
— Ay, now I remember, Nosey Flynn said, putting his hand in his pocket to scratch his groin. Who is this was telling me? Isn't Blazes Boylan mixed up in it?
A warm shock of air(3,3) heat of mustard(3,3) hanchedº on Mr Bloom's heart. He raised his eyes and met the stare of a bilious clock. Two. (3Pub clock five minutes fast.3) Time going on. Hands moving. Two. Not yet.
His midriff yearned then upward, sank within him, yearned more longly, longingly.
He (3smellsipped the cordial juice and, bidding his throat strongly to speed it,3) set (3down3) his wineglass delicately(3, having tasted a comforting sip down3).
— Yes, he said. He's the organiser in point of fact.
No fear(3: no. No3) brains.
Nosey Flynn snuffled (3and scratched. Flea having a good square meal.3)
a tidy bit had a good
Jack Mooney was telling
boxing match3) Myler Keogh won again that soldier in the
Portobello barracks. By God,º he had |7Myler the little kipper7| down in the (3country, county Carlow3) he was telling me …
Hope that dewdrop doesn't come down into his glass. No, snuffled it up.
— For near a month, man, before it came off. Sucking duck eggs(3,3) by God(3,3) (3all day long till further orders3). Keep him off the (3boose |8booze boose8|3), see? O, by God, Blazes is a hairy chap.
Davy Byrne came forward from the (3hind bar hindbar3) in |5tuckstitched5| shirtsleevesº, cleaning his lips with two wipes of his napkin. Herring's blush. |6Whose smile upon each feature plays with such and such replete.6| |5Too much fat on the parsnips.5|
— And here's himself and pepper on him, Nosey Flynn said. Can you give us a good one for the Gold cup(3.?3)
— I'm off that, Mr Flynn, Davy Byrne answered. I never put anything on a horse.
— You're right there, Nosey Flynn said.
Mr Bloom ate his strips of sandwich, (3relishing3) fresh clean bread, (3with relish of disgust(4,4)3) pungent mustard, the feety savour of green cheese. Sips of his wine soothed his palate. |5Not logwood that.5| |6Tastes fuller this weather with the chill off.6|
Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. Nicely planed. Like the way it curves there.
— I wouldn't do anything (3at all3) in that line (3at all3), Davy Byrne said. It ruined many a man(3,3) the same horses.
(3Vintners' sweepstake. Licensed for the sale of beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises. Heads I win tails you lose.3)
— True for you, Nosey Flynn said. Unless you're in the know. There's no straight sport going now. Lenehan gets some good ones. He's giving (3Sceptre Sceptreº3) today(3,.3) (3Zinfandel's Zinfandel'sº3) the favourite, lord Howard de Walden's(3,3) won at Epsom. Morny Cannon is riding him. I could have got seven to (3two one3) against Saint Amantº a fortnight before.
— That so? Davy Byrne
He went towards the window and, taking up the
pettycashº book, scanned its pages.
— I could, faith, Nosey Flynn said,º snuffling. That (3must have been a sight worth seeing was a rare bit of horseflesh3). |6Saint Frusquin was her sire.6| She won in a thunderstorm, Rothschild's filly, with wadding in her ears. |6Blue jacket and yellow cap.6| (3Bloody curse Bad luck3) to big Ben Dollard and his (3John O'Gaunt John O'Gauntº3). He put me off it. Ay.
He drank resignedly from his tumbler, running his fingers down the flutes.
— Ay, he said, sighing.
Mr Bloom, champing, standing(3,3) looked upon his sigh. Nosey numbskullº. (3Tell Will I tell3) him that horse (3will I3) Lenehan (3tipped3)? (3He knows already. Better let him forget.3) Go and lose more. Fool and his money. Dewdrop coming down again. Cold nose he'd have (3if he kissed kissing3) a woman. Still they might like. (3They like prickly beards Prickly beards they like3). Dogs' cold noses. (3Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel old Old3) Mrs Riordan with (3her the3) rumbling (3stomach stomach's Skye terrier in the City Arms hotel.3) (3had in Molly's Molly fondling him in her3) lap. O(3,3) the big doggybowwowsywowsy(3.!3)
Wine soaked and softened rolled pith of bread mustard a moment mawkish cheese. Nice wine it is. Taste it better because I'm not thirsty. Bath of course does that. Just a |6light snack bite or two6|. Then about six o'clock I can. Six(3. Six, six3). Time will be gone then. She(3. …3)
Mild fire of wine kindled his veins. I wanted that
badly3). Felt so off
colour. His eyes unhungrily saw shelves of
sardines, gaudy lobsters' claws. All the odd things people
pick3) up for food.
Out of shells, periwinkles with a pin, off trees,
out of the ground (3the
French eat3), out of
the sea with (3bait
on3) a hook
(3Silly fish learn nothing in
a thousand years. If you didn't know risky
putting anything into your mouth. Poisonous berries.
you think good.6|
off.5| One fellow
told another and so on. Try it on the dog
have been led
Led3) on by the smell
or the look
know what was
Orangegroves for instance. Need artificial irrigation. Bleibtreustrasse. Yes but
what about oysters. Unsightly like a clot of phlegm. Filthy shells. Devil to
open them too. Who found them out? Garbage, sewage they feed on.
the fashion it
bank Oysters and fizz Fizz and Red bank
oysters3). Effect on
the sexual. Aphrodis. He was in the Red
bank3) this morning.
Was he oystersº old fish at table
say who knows perhapsº
he3) young flesh in
has no ar no oysters3). (3Of course But3) there are people like (3things high. Tainted Game tainted game.3) |8Jugged hare. First catch your hare.8| |6Chinese eating eggs fifty years old, blue and green again. Dinner of thirty courses. All Each |9dish9| harmless might mix inside. Idea for a poison mystery.6| That (3Austrian3) archduke (3unread said. Leopold was it, no, yesº, or was it Otto one of those3) Habsburgs|s5,?s5|
|7Or who was it used to eat the scruff off his own head|9.?9| Cheapest lunch in town.7| (3aristocrats3) |s5of Ofs5| course(3, aristocrats(4|s5,.s5|4)3)
(3⇑3) (3No it's simply |s5then Thens5| the others copy to be in3) the fashion. |5Milly too |a|9paraffin rock9| oil anda| flour|7.7| |7raw Raw7| pastry I like myself.5| (3Throw half the haul back into Half the catch of oysters they throw back in3) the sea to keep up the price. Cheap no-oneº would buy. Caviare. Do the grand. (3Especially with fish.3) Hock in green glasses. Swell |6blow out blowout6|. Lady this. Powdered bosom pearls. |5The élite. Crème de la crème. They want special dishes to pretend they're. |9Hermit with a platter of pulse keep down the stings of the flesh. Know me come eat with me.9| Royal sturgeon|a.a| |ahigh Higha| sheriff, |7Fanagan, the undertaker Coffey, the butcher7|, right to venisons of the forest from his ex. |7Send him back |8the8| half |8of8| a cow.7| Spread I saw down in |9the9| Master of the Rolls' kitchen area. |8Barons of beef8| Whitehatted |11chef chef11| |6like a rabbi6|. Combustible duck. Curly cabbage |6à la duchesse de Parme à la duchesse de Parme6|. |7Just as well to write it on the bill of fare so you can know what you've eaten. Tooº many drugs spoil the broth. I know it too myself. Dosing it with Edwards' desiccated soup.7| Geese |6crammed stuffed silly6| for them. Lobsters boiled alive.5| |6Do ptake some ptarmigan.6| |9Wouldn't mind being a waiter in a swell hotel. Tips, evening dress, halfnaked ladies.9| May I tempt you to a little more filleted |6lemon6| sole, (3Miss miss3) Dubedat? Yes, do bedad. And she did bedad. Huguenot name I expect that (3must be3). A miss Dubedat lived in (3Kunread, Killiney3) I remember. |s5Du de la Du deº la,s5| (3is3) French. Still it's the same fishº perhaps old (3Michael |6Mickey Micky6|3) Hanlon (3of Moore street3) ripped the guts out of (3in Moore street3) making moneyº hand over fistº|5,5| (3with that with his finger tearing open fish finger in fishes' gills|5,5|3) (3and3) can't write his name on a cheque(3,3)|5,5| think he was painting (3it the landscape3) with (3his3) mouth twisted. (3Moooikel. |6MoooikillA Moooikill A6| Aitcha Ha|5.5|3) (3Ignorant |5ignorant Ignorant5|3) as a kish of brogues(3.3)|6,6| (3Worth sixty worth fifty3) thousand pounds.
Stuck on the pane two flies buzzed, stuck.
Glowing wine on his palate lingered swallowed. Crushing in the winepress
grapes of Burgundy. Sun's heat it is. Seems to a secret touch telling me
memory. Touched his
remembered. Hidden under wild ferns on Howth
belowº us bay
sky. No sound.
The sky. (3The bay purple by the Lion's head. |6Green by Drumleck. Yellowgreen towards Sutton. Fields of undersea, the lines faint brown in grass, buried cities.º6| Pillowed on my coat she had her hair|6,6| earwigs in the heather scrub my hand under her nape|6,6| you'll toss me all. O wonder! Coolsoft with ointments her hand touched me, caressed: her eyes upon me did not turn away.3) (3Over Ravished over3) her I lay|6,6| full lips full open|6,6| kissed her mouth. Yum. Softly she gave me in my mouth the seedcake warm and chewed. Mawkish pulp her mouth had mumbled (3sweetsour of her sweet and sour with3) spittle. Joy: I ate it: joy. Young life, her lips (3as she gave that gave me3) pouting. Soft warmº sticky gumjelly lips. Flowers her eyes were|6,6| take me|6,6| willing eyes.
Pebbles fell. She (3did not move lay still3). A goat.(3Nobody No-one3). High (3above it passed on Ben Howth rhododendrons a nannygoat walking3) surefooted(3,3) dropping currants(3.3) Screened under ferns she laughed warmfolded. Wildly I lay on her, kissed her:º eyes, her lips, her stretched (3throat neckº3) beating, woman's breasts full in her blouse of (3voile nun's veiling,3) fat nipples (3standing upright3). Hot I tongued her. She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair(3, kissed. Kissed3), she kissed me.
Me. And me now.
(3Stuck, the flies buzzed.3)
His downcast eyes followed the silent veining of the oaken slab. Beauty: it curves: curves are beauty. Shapely goddesses(3.,3) (3Juno. Venus. Venus, Juno:3) (3Their3) curves the world admires. (3I will call into the museum,3) (3see Can seeº3) them (3|11museum library library museum11|3) standing in the round hall, naked(3,3) goddesses(3.3) |5Aids to digestion.5| (3they They3) don't care (3who looks at them, all parts what man looks. All to see3). Never speaking. I mean to say to fellows like Flynn. |6Suppose she did Pygmalion and Galatea what would she say first? Mortal! Put you in your proper place.6| Quaffing nectar at mess with (3the3) gods|s5,s5| golden dishes|6,6| all ambrosial. Not like a (3lunch for a tanner, tanner lunch3) we have(3,3) boiled mutton,º carrots and turnips,º bottle of Allsoppº. Nectarº imagine it (3like3) drinking electricity: gods' food. Lovely forms of (3women woman |7sculped7|3) Junonian. (3bodies.3) Immortal (3lovely3). And we stuffing food in one hole and out behind|6: |9food, chyle, blood, dung, earth, food:9| have to feed it like stoking anº engine6|. They have no. (3I never Never3) looked. I'll look today. Keeper (3not looking won't see3). Bend down let something (3drop. fall3) see if she.
Dribbling a3) quiet
from his bladder
|8to go to do not
to do there to do8|. A man and ready he (3drank his wine off drained his glass3) to the lees and walked|6,6| to men too they gave themselves|6,6| manly conscious|6,6| lay with men lovers|6,6| a youth enjoyed her|6,6| (3towards to3) the yard.
When the sound of his boots had ceased Davy Byrne said from his book(3.:3)
— What is this he is? Isn't he in the insurance line?
— He's out of that long ago, Nosey Flynn said. He does canvassing for the Freeman.
— I know him well to see, Davy Byrne said. Is he in trouble?
— Trouble? Nosey Flynn said. Not that I heard of. Why?
— I noticed he was in mourning(4, Davy Byrne said4).
— Was he? Nosey Flynn said. So he was, faith. I asked him how was all at home. You're right, by God. So he was.
— I never (3touch on broach3) the subject, Davy Byrne said (3respectfully humanely3), if I see a (3person gentleman3) is in trouble that way. It only brings it up fresh in their minds.
— It's not the wife anyhow, Nosey Flynn said. I met him the day before
yesterday and he coming out of that Irish farm dairy John Wyse Nolan's wife has in Henry street with a jar of cream in his hand taking it home to his better half. She's well nourished, I tell you. Plovers on toast.
— And is he doing for the (3Freeman Freeman3)? Davy Byrne said.
Nosey Flynn pursed his lips.
— He doesn't buy cream on the ads he picks up. You |7may take that from me can make bacon of that7|(3?.3)
— How so? Davy Byrne asked(3, coming from his book3).
Nosey Flynn made swift passes in the air with juggling fingers(3.3) (3and He3) winked.
— He's in the craft, he said.
— Do you tell me so? Davy Byrne said.
— Very much so, Nosey Flynn said. Ancient(3,3) free and accepted order. (3He's an excellent brother.3) Light, life and love, by God. They give him a leg up. I was told that by a —º well, I won't say who.
— Is that a fact?
— O, it's a fine order, Nosey Flynn said. They stick to you when you're down. I know a fellow was trying to get into (3it. But it|s5,s5| but3) they're as close as damn it. By God they did right to keep the women out of it.
Davy Byrne (3smiled, yawned, nodded (4smiled yawned nodded smiledyawnednodded4)3) all in one(3.:3)
— (3Iiiiiichaaach Iiiiiichaaaaaaach3)!
— There was one woman, Nosey Flynn said, hid herself in a clock to find out what they do be doing. But be damned but they smelt her (3too out3) and swore her in on the spot a master mason. That was one of the (3saint Saint3) Legers of Doneraile.
Davy Byrne(3,3) sated after his yawn, said with (3tearwet tearwashed3) eyes:
— And is that a fact? Decent quiet man he is. I often saw him in here and I never once saw him —º you know, over the line.
— (3Couldn't God Almighty couldn't3) make him drunk, Nosey Flynn said firmly. Slips off when (3it the fun3) gets too hot. Didn't you see him look at his watch? Ah, you weren't there. If you ask him to have a drink first thing he does he outs with the watch to see what (3it he3) ought to (3be imbibe3). Declare to God he does.
— There are some like that, Davy Byrne said. He's a safe man, I'd say.
— He's not too bad, Nosey Flynn said(3, snuffling it up3). (3He's He has3) been known to put his hand down too to help a fellow. Give the devil his due. O, Bloom has his good points. But there's one thing he'll never do.
His hand scrawled a dry pen signature beside his grog.
— I know, Davy Byrne said.
— Nothing in black and white, Nosey Flynn said.
Paddy Leonard and Bantam Lyons came in. Tom Rochford followed (3frowning3), a plaining hand on his claret waistcoat.
— Day, Mr Byrne.
— Day, gentlemen.
They paused at the counter.
— Who's standing? Paddy Leonard asked.
— I'm sitting anyhow, Nosey Flynn (3said answered3).
— Well, what'll it be? Paddy Leonard asked.
— I'll take a stone ginger, Bantam Lyons said.
— How much? Paddy Leonard cried. Since when, for God' sake? What's yours, Tom?
— How is the main drainage? Nosey Flynn asked(3, sipping3).
For answer Tom Rochford pressed his hand to his breastbone and (3retched dumbly in his throat |6hiccoughed hiccupped6|3).
— Would I trouble you for a glass of fresh water, Mr Byrne? he said.
— Certainly, sir.
Paddy Leonard eyed his alemates.
— Lord love a duck, he said(3. Look, look3) at what I'm standing drinks to(3.!3) (3Water and gingerbeer. Cold water and gingerpop! Two fellows that would suck whisky off a sore leg.3)
—(3⇑3) He has some bloody horse up his sleeve(3, Paddy Leonard said of Lyons.3) (3For for3) the Gold cup. (3A dead snip.3)
— Zinfandel is it? Nosey Flynn asked.
Tom Rochford spilt powder from a (3folded twisted3) paper into the water set before him.
— That cursed dyspepsia, he said before drinking(3:.3)
— Breadsoda is very good, Davy Byrne said.
Tom Rochford nodded and drank.
— Is it Zinfandelº?
— Say nothing(3!,3) Bantam Lyons (3said with a wink winked3). I'm going to (3have plunge3) five bob on my own.
— Tell us |7if you're worth your salt7| and be damned to you, Paddy Leonard said. Who gave it to you?
Mr Bloom on his way out raised three fingers in greeting.
— So long(3!,3) Nosey Flynn said.
The others turned.
— That's the man now that gave it to me, Bantam Lyons whispered.
— (3Prrwh Prrwht3)! Paddy Leonard said with scorn. Mr Byrne, sir, we'll take two of your small (3whiskies Jamesons3) after that and a …
— Stone ginger, Davy Byrne added civilly.
— Ay, Paddy Leonard said. A (3sucking bottle suckingbottle3) for the baby.
Mr Bloom walked towards Dawson
street(3, his tongue brushing
his teeth smooth3).
Something green it would have to be:
say. Then with those Röntgen rays searchlight you could.
(3⇒3) (3In At3) Duke lane a |6ravenous6| terrier choked up a sick knuckly cud on the cobblestonesº and lapped it with new zest. |7Surfeit. Returned with thanks having fully digested the contents. |8First sweet then savoury.8|7| Mr Bloom coasted warily. Ruminants. |6His second course. Their upper jaw they move.6| Wonder if Tom Rochford will do anything with that invention of his(3?.3) Wasting time explaining it to Flynn's mouth. Lean people long mouths. Ought to be a hall or (3a3) place where inventors could go in and invent free. Course (3then3) you'd have (3all the3) cranks pestering.
(3⇒3) He hummed(3, prolonging3) in solemn echo (3prolonging,3) the closes of the bars:
— Donº Giovanni, a cenar teco
Feel better (3now3). (3Burgundy. Good pick me up. Who distilled first? Some chap in the blues. Dutch courage.3) That Kilkenny People in the (3National national3) library now I must.
Bare clean closestools(3,3) waiting(3,3) in the window of William Miller, plumber, turned back his thoughts. They could: and watch it all the way down|6, swallow a pin sometimes come out of the ribs years after, tour round the body,6| changing biliary duct spleen squirting liverº gastric juice coils of intestines like pipes. But the poor buffer would have to stand all the time with his insides (3entrails3) on show. Science.
— A cenar teco.
What does (3that3) teco mean(3.?3) Tonight perhaps.
Giovanni,3) thou hast me invited
To come to supper |10tonight tonight,10|
The rum the rumdum(3.3)
Doesn't go properly.
Keyes: two months if I get Nannetti to. That'll be two pounds ten|5,5| about two pounds eight. Three Hynes owes me. Two eleven. Prescott'sº dyeworks van over there. If I get Billyº Prescott'sº ad(3: two. Two3) fifteen. Five guineas about. On the pig's back.
Could buy one of those silk petticoats for Molly, colour of her new garters.
(3Today. Today. Not think.3)
Tour the south then. What about English
Margate. Piers by moonlight. Her voice floating out.3) Those lovely seaside girls.º |6Against John Long's a drowsing loafer lunged lounged |ain heavy thought,a| gnawing a crusted knuckleº. Handy man wants job. Small wages. Will eat anything.6|
|6He Mr Bloom6| turned at Gray's confectioner's window of (3unbought3) tarts and passed the reverend Thomas Connellan's bookstore. Why I left the church of Rome.º (3Birds' nest women finance Bird's nest womenº run3) him. They say they used to give (3hungry pauper3) children soup to change to protestants |6in the time of the potato blight6|. |6Society over the way papa went to for the conversion of poor jews. Same bait.6| (3Why they left the church of Rome. Why we left the church of Rome.º3)
A blind stripling stood tapping the curbstone with his slender cane. No tram in sight. Wants to cross.
— Do you want to cross? Mr Bloom asked.
The blind stripling did not answer. His wallfaceº frowned weakly. He moved his head uncertainly.
— You're in Dawson street, Mr Bloom said. Molesworth street is opposite. Do you want to cross? There's nothing in the way.
The cane moved out trembling to the left. Mr Bloom's (3gaze eye3) followed its line and saw again the dyeworks' van drawn up before Drago's. Where I saw his (errbrillantined brilliantinedºerr) hair just when I was. Horse drooping. (3Driver in John Long's. Slaking his |6drought |12drouht drouth12|6|.3)
— There's a van there, Mr Bloom said, but it's not moving. I'll see you across. Do you want to go to Molesworth street?
— Yes, the (3boy stripling3) answered. South Frederick street.
— Come, Mr Bloom said.
(3He took the thin elbow gently and, guiding the boy across the street, set him by the farther curbstone.3) He touched the thin elbow gently: then took the limp seeing hand (3and guided the boy slowly to guide it3) forward.
Say something to him. Better not do the condescending. |6They mistrust what you tell them.6| (3Something ordinary Pass a |6common6| remark3).
— (3blank The rain kept off.3)
Stains on his coat. Slobbers his
food,º I suppose.
all different for him. Have to be
first.6| Like a
his hand. Like Milly's was. Sensitive. Sizing me up
I daresay3) from my
he has a name.8| Van. Keep his cane clear of the (3horses' horse's3) legs:º tired (3brute drudge3) get his doze. That's right. Clear. Behind a bull: in front of a horse.
— Thanks, sir.
Knows I'm a man. Voice.
— Right now? First turn to the left.
The blind stripling tapped the curbstone and went on his way, drawing his cane back, feeling again.
Mr Bloom walked behind |6him the eyeless feet, a flatcut suit of herringbone tweed6|. Poor young fellow! How on earth did he know that van was there? Must have felt it. See things in their (3forehead perhaps: kind foreheads perhaps. Kind3) of sense of volume. Weight or size of it, something blacker than the dark. Wonderº (3if he'd would he3) feel it if something was removed. Feel a gap. Queer idea of Dublin he must have, tapping his way round by the stones. Could he walk in a beeline if he hadn't that cane? Bloodless pious face like a fellow going (3in3) to be a priest.
Penrose! That was that chap's name.
Look at all the things they can learn to do. Read with their fingers. Tune pianos(3,.3) |6Or we are surprised they have any brains. Why we think a deformed person or a hunchback clever if he says something we might say.6| (3of Of3) course the other senses are (3more, embroider, plait more. Embroider. Plait3) baskets. People ought to help (3them3). (3Workbasket Work basket3) I could buy (3for3) Molly's birthday. Hates sewing. (3Mightn't like it Might take an objection3). Dark men they call them.
Sense of smell must be stronger too. Smells on all sides(3,3) bunched together. Each street different smell.º Each person too. Then the spring, the summer: smells. Tastes(3?.3) They say you can't taste wines with your eyes shut |6or a cold in the head6|. Also smoke in the dark they say get no pleasure.
And with a
for instance. |9More
girl passing the Stewart
head in the air. Look at me. I have them all
on.6| Must be strange
not to see her. Kind of a
form3) in his
mind's eye. The voice,º
when he touches her with
fingers must almost see the lines, the curves. His hands on her hair, for
instance. Say it was
for instance. Good. We call it black. Then passing over her white skin. Different feel perhaps. Feeling of white.
Postoffice. Must answer. Fag today. Send her a postal order
half a crown3). Accept
my little present. Stationer's just here too. Wait. Think over it.
With a gentle finger he felt ever so slowly the hair combed back above his ears. Again. Fibres of fine fine straw. Then gently his finger felt the skin of his right cheek. (3Sprouting Downy3) hair there too. Not smooth enough. The belly is the smoothest. No-one about. There he goes into Frederick street. (3Perhaps to Levenston's dancing academy piano.3) Might be settling my braces.
Walking by Doran's (3public house publichouseº3) he slid his hand between (3his3) waistcoat and trousers and, pulling aside his shirt gently, felt a slack fold of his belly. But I know it's whitey yellowº. Want to try in the dark to see.
He withdrew his hand and pulled his dress to.
Poor fellow! Quite a boy. Terrible. Really terrible. |5What dreams would he have, not seeing.º Life a dream for him.5| Where is the justice being born that (3way? (errway. way?º13)3) All those (3children and women women and children excursion beanfeast3) (3killed |4burned and4| drowned3) in New York (3yesterday3). |4Holocaust.4| (3That3) Karma (3book the they call that3) transmigration for sins you did in a past life the reincarnation (3met him (errpikehoses pike hosesº13)3). Dear, dear, dear. Pity(3,3) of course: but somehow you can't cotton on to them someway.
Sir Frederick Falkiner going into the (3freemasons' |6freemason's freemasons'6|3) hall. Solemn as Troy. After (3a his3) good lunch (3in Earlsfort terrace3). |5Old legal cronies cracking a |abottle magnuma|.5| |6Tales of the bench and assizes and annals of the bluecoat school. I sentenced him to ten years.6| I suppose he'd turn up his nose at (3the that3) |6wine stuff6| I drank(3.3) |6Vintage wine for them, the year marked on a dusty bottle.6| (3Going down to the recorder's court to try fellows after.3) (3Justice. Has his own ideas of justice in the recorder's court. Wellmeaning old man. Police chargesheets crammed with cases get their percentage manufacturing crime. Sends them to the rightabout. The devil on moneylenders. Gave Reuben J a great strawcalling. Now he's really what they call a dirty jew. Power those judges have. |5Grumpy Crusty5| old topers in wigs. |5Bear with a sore paw.5|3) And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.
Mirus bazaar. His
the lord lieutenant.
it is. In aid of funds
for Mercer's hospital. Theº
Messiah was first given for that. Yes. Handel. What about going out there(3:.3) Ballsbridge. (3Drop in on Keyes. No use sticking to him like a leech.3) |6Wear out my welcome.6| Sure to know someone on the gate.
Mr Bloom came (3into to3) Kildare street. First I must. Library.
Straw hat in (3the3) sunlight. Tan shoes. (3Turned up Turnedup3) trousers. It is. It is.
His heart quopped softly. To the right. Museum. Goddesses. He swerved to the right.
Is it? Almost certain. Won't look.
(3Wine in my face. Why did I?
Yes, it is. The walk. Not see.
see.3) Get on.
Making (3towards for3) the museum gate with long windy (3steps strides3) he lifted his eyes. Handsome building. Sir Thomas Deane designed (3that3). Not following me?
Didn't see me perhaps. Light in his eyes.
The flutter of his breath came forth in short sighs. Quick. Cold statues: quiet there. Safe in a minute.
(3No. Didn't No|6,6| didn't3) see me. After two. Just at the gate.
His eyes beating(3,3) looked steadfastly at (3the3) cream curves of stone. Sir Thomas Deane was the Greek architecture.
Look for something I.
His hasty hand went quick into a pocket, took out (3and,3) read unfolded Agendath Netaim. Where did I?
Busy looking (3for3).
He thrust back (3quick quickly3) Agendath.
Afternoon she said.
I am looking for that. Yes(3.,3) that. Try all pockets. Handker. (3Freeman.3) Where did I? Ah, yes. (3Trousers. Purse. Potato. Where did I?º3)
Hurry. Walk quietly. Moment more. My heart.
His hand looking for the where did I put found in his hip pocket soap(3. lotion have to call3) tepid paper stuck (3soap3). Ah|11,11| soap there I yesº. Gate.