Time: 5:00 P.M., Thursday, June 16, 1904 Scene: the Tavern, Barney Kiernan's pub, 8-10 Little Britain Street (i.e., Brittany Street). As a hobby, Kiernan col- lected souvenirs of crime and punishment, which he used to decorate his pub in a large and changing dis- play. Organ:　muscle Art:　　　politics Colors:　none Symbol: Fenian Technique: Gigantism [The narrative line of this episode is inter- rupted by thirty-three passages that comment on the narrative by parodying variouspompous, sensational, or sentimental literary styles. In most cases the parodies are "general"-parodies not of specific works but of generalized stylistic conventions. The thirty-three pas- sages are noted below as "Parody" with descriptions of the styles being lampooned.] Correspondences:　 Noman-I; Stake-cigar; Challenge [that the escaped Od- ysseus flings at Polyphemus)-Apotheosis. Background In Book 9 of The Odyssey, Odysseus describes his ad- ventures among the one-eyed Cyclopes, who are "gi- ants, louts, without a law to bless them." They live in a fertile land but are ignorant of shifts to Ithaca, where we find Telemachus, Odysseus's son, "a boy, day- dreaming" of his father'sreturn' He is unhappy, threat- ened with be-trayal and displacement by the suitors who have collected a-round his mother, Penelope, du- ring his father's absence. These arrogant men, led by Antinous (whose name means "antimind") and Eury- machos ("wide fighter"), mock the omens sent by Zeus, going so far as to plot Telemachus's death and to boast that they will kill Odysseus should he return alone. In the council on Olympus, Pallas Athena (the goddess of the arts of war and peace, of domestic economy, and of human wit and intuition) is revealed as Odysseus's patron. In Book 1 she appears to Telemachus disguised as Mentes, king of Taphos and an old friend of the fam- ily, and ad-vises him to assert his independence of his mother and journey to the mainland in search of news of his father. In Book 2, now disguised as Mentor, the guardian of Odysseus's house and slaves during his absence, Athena encourages Telemachus and helps him find ship and crew for the voyage to the mainland.

* I was just passing the time of day with old Troy of the D. M. P.1 at the
corner of Arbour hill2 there and be damned but a bloody3 sweep came along
and he near drove his gear into my eye.4 I turned around to let him have
the weight of my tongue when who should I see dodging along Stony Batter5
only Joe Hynes.

--Lo, Joe, says I. How are you blowing? Did you see that bloody
chimneysweep near shove my eye out with his brush?

--Soot's luck,6 says Joe. Who's the old ballocks7 you were talking to?

--Old Troy, says I, was in the force. I'm on two minds not to give that
fellow in charge for obstructing the thoroughfare with his brooms and
ladders.

--What are you doing round those parts? says Joe.

--Devil a much, says I. There's a bloody big foxy thief beyond by the gar-
rison church at the corner of Chicken lane8 --old Troy was just giv-
ing me a wrinkle9 about him --lifted any God's quantity of tea and sugar
to pay three bob a week said he had a farm10 in the county Down11 off a hop-
of-my-thumb by the name of Moses Herzog over there near Heytesbury
street.12

--Circumcised?13 says Joe.

--Ay, says I. A bit off the top.14 An old plumber named Geraghty.15 I'm
hanging on to his taw16 now for the past fortnight and I can't get a penny
out of him.

--That the lay17 you're on now? says Joe.

--Ay, says I. How are the mighty fallen!18 Collector of bad and doubtful
debts.19 But that's the most notorious bloody robber you'd meet in a day's
walk and the face on him all pockmarks would hold a shower of rain. Tell
him, says he, I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him to send you round
here again or if he does, says he, I'll have him summonsed up before the
court, so I will, for trading without a licence.20 And he after stuffing
himself till he's fit to burst. Jesus, I had to laugh at the little jewy
getting his shirt out. He drink me my teas. He eat me my sugars. Because
he no pay me my moneys?

For nonperishable goods bought of Moses Herzog, of 13 Saint Kevin's par- 　　 　PARODY
ade in the city of Dublin, Wood quay ward, merchant, hereinafter called
the vendor, and sold and delivered to Michael E. Geraghty, esquire, of
29 Arbour hill in the city of Dublin, Arran quay ward, gentleman,21 here-
inafter called the purchaser, videlicet, five pounds avoirdupois of first
choice tea at three shillings and no pence per pound avoirdupois and three
stone avoirdupois of sugar, crushed crystal, at threepence per pound avoir-
dupois, the said purchaser debtor to the said vendor of one pound five
shillings and sixpence sterling for value received which amount shall be
paid by said purchaser to said vendor in weekly instalments every seven
calendar days of three shillings and no pence sterling: and the said non-
perishable goods shall not be pawned or pledged or sold or otherwise ali-
enated by the said purchaser but shall be and remain and be held to be the
sole and exclusive property of the said vendor to be disposed of at his
good will and pleasure until the said amount shall have been duly paid by
the said purchaser to the said vendor in the manner herein set forth as
this day hereby agreed between the said vendor, his heirs, successors,
trustees and assigns of the one part and the said purchaser, his heirs,
successors, trustees and assigns of the other part.

--Are you a strict t.t.?22 says Joe.

--Not taking anything between drinks, says I.

--What about paying our respects to our friend?23 says Joe.

--Who? says I. Sure, he's out in John of God's24 off his head, poor man.

--Drinking his own stuff? says Joe.

--Ay, says I. Whisky and water on the brain.

--Come around to Barney Kiernan's, says Joe. I want to see the citizen.25

--Barney mavourneen's26 be it, says I. Anything strange or wonderful, Joe?

--Not a word, says Joe. I was up at that meeting in the City Arms.

---What was that, Joe? says I.

--Cattle traders,27 says Joe, about the foot and mouth disease. I want to give
the citizen the hard word28 about it.

So we went around by the Linenhall barracks29 and the back of the courthouse 30
talking of one thing or another. Decent fellow Joe when he has it but sure
like that he never has it. Jesus, I couldn't get over that bloody foxy Ger-
aghty, the daylight robber. For trading without a licence, says he.

In Inisfail the fair31 there lies a land, the land of holy Michan32. There 　　 　 　 　PARODY
rises a watchtower33 beheld of men afar. There sleep the mighty dead as in
life they slept, warriors and princes of high renown.34 A pleasant land it is in
sooth of murmuring waters, fishful streams where sport the gurnard, the
plaice, the roach, the halibut, the gibbed haddock,35 the grilse, the dab, the
brill, the flounder, the pollock, the mixed coarse fish generally and other
denizens of the aqueous kingdom too numerous to be enumerated. In the
mild breezes of the west and of the east the lofty trees wave in different
directions their firstclass foliage, the wafty sycamore, the Lebanonian cedar,
the exalted planetree, the eugenic eucalyptus36 and other ornaments of the
arboreal world with which that region is thoroughly well supplied. Lovely
maidens sit in close proximity to the roots of the lovely trees singing the
most lovely songs while they play with all kinds of lovely objects as for
example golden ingots, silvery fishes, crans37 of herrings, drafts38 of eels,
codlings, creels of fingerlings, purple seagems and playful insects. And
heroes voyage from afar to woo them, from Eblana to Slievemargy,39 the
peerless princes of unfettered Munster40 and of Connacht the just41 and of
smooth sleek Leinster42 and of Cruahan's land43 and of Armagh the splendid44
and of the noble district of Boyle,45 princes, the sons of kings.46

And there rises a shining palace47 whose crystal glittering roof is seen
by mariners who traverse the extensive sea in barks built expressly for that
purpose, and thither come all herds and fatlings and firstfruits48 of that land
for O'Connell Fitzsimon49 takes toll of them, a chieftain descended from
chieftains. Thither the extremely large wains50 bring foison of the fields,
flaskets of cauliflowers, floats51 of spinach, pineapple chunks, Rangoon
beans,52 strikes53 of tomatoes, drums of figs, drills of Swedes,54 spherical
potatoes and tallies of iridescent kale, York and Savoy,55 and trays of onions,
pearls of the earth,56 and punnets57 of mushrooms and custard marrows and
fat vetches and bere58 and rape and red green yellow brown russet sweet big
bitter ripe pomellated apples and chips59 of strawberries and sieves60 of
gooseberries, pulpy and pelurious,61 and strawberries fit for princes and
raspberries from their canes.

I dare him, says he, and I doubledare him. Come out here, Geraghty, you
notorious bloody hill and dale robber!

And by that way wend the herds innumerable of bellwethers and flushed 　　　　　PARODY
ewes62 and shearling rams and lambs and stubble geese63 and medium
steers and roaring64 mares and polled calves and longwoods and storesheep65
and Cuffe's66 prime springers67 and culls68 and sowpigs69 and baconhogs
and the various different varieties of highly distinguished swine and Angus
heifers and polly70 bulllocks of immaculate pedigree together with prime pre-
miated71 milchcows and beeves: and there is ever heard a trampling, cack-
ling, roaring, lowing, bleating, bellowing, rumbling, grunting, champing, chew-
ing, of sheep and pigs and heavyhooved kine from pasturelands of Lusk and
Rush72 and Carrickmines73 and from the streamy vales of Thomond,74
from the M'Gillicuddy's reeks75 the inaccessible and lordly Shannon76 the
unfathomable, and from the gentle declivities of the place of the race of
Kiar,77 their udders distended with superabundance of milk and butts of
butter and rennets of cheese and farmer's firkins and targets of lamb78 and
crannocks79 of corn and oblong eggs in great hundreds, various in size, the
agate with this dun.

So we turned into Barney Kiernan's and there, sure enough, was the citizen
up in the corner having a great confab with himself and that bloody mangy
mongrel, Garryowen,80 and he waiting for what the sky would drop in the way
of drink.

--There he is, says I, in his gloryhole,81 with his cruiskeen lawn82 and his
load of papers, working for the cause.

The bloody mongrel let a grouse out of him would give you the creeps.
Be a corporal work of mercy83 if someone would take the life of that
bloody dog. I'm told for a fact he ate a good part of the breeches off
a constabulary man84 in Santry85 that came round one time with a blue
paper86 about a licence.

--Stand and deliver,87 says he.

--That's all right, citizen, says Joe. Friends here.

--Pass, friends, says he.

Then he rubs his hand in his eye and says he:

--What's your opinion of the times?

Doing the rapparee88 and Rory of the hill.89 But, begob, Joe was equal to the
occasion.

--I think the markets are on a rise, says he, sliding his hand down his fork.

So begob the citizen claps his paw on his knee and he says:

--Foreign wars is the cause of it.

And says Joe, sticking his thumb in his pocket:

--It's the Russians wish to tyrannise.90

--Arrah,91 give over your bloody codding,91 Joe, says I. I've a thirst on me I
wouldn't sell for half a crown.

--Give it a name, citizen, says Joe.

--Wine of the country, says he.

--What's yours? says Joe.

--Ditto MacAnaspey,92 says I.

--Three pints, Terry, says Joe. And how's the old heart, citizen? says he.

--Never better, a chara,93 says he. What Garry? Are we going to win? Eh?

And with that he took the bloody old towser by the scruff of the neck and,
cby Jesus, he near throttled him.

The figure seated on a large boulder at the foot of a round tower94 was that 　　PARODY
of a broadshouldered deepchested stronglimbed frankeyed redhaired freely-
freckled shaggybearded widemouthed largenosed longheaded deepvoiced bare-
kneed brawnyhanded hairylegged ruddyfaced sinewyarmed hero. From shoulder
to shoulder he measured several ells and his rocklike mountainous knees
were covered, as was likewise the rest of his body wherever visible, with
a strong growth of tawny prickly hair in hue and toughness similar to the
mountain gorse95 (Ulex europeus). The widewinged nostrils, from which brist-
les of the same tawny hue projected, were of such capaciousness that within
their cavernous obscurity the fieldlark might easily have lodged her nest.
The eyes in which a tear and a smile96 strove ever for the mastery were of
the dimensions of a goodsized cauliflower. A powerful current of warm breath
issued at regular intervals from the profound cavity of his mouth while in
rhythmic resonance the loud strong hale reverberations of his formidable
heart thundered rumblingly causing the ground, the summitof the lofty tower
and the still loftier walls of the cave to vibrate and tremble.

He wore a long unsleeved garment of recently flayed oxhide reaching to the
knees in a loose kilt and this was bound about his middle by a girdle of
plaited straw and rushes.97 Beneath this he wore trews of deerskin, roughly
stitched with gut. His nether extremities were encased in high Balbriggan
buskins dyed in lichen purple, the feet being shod with brogues of salted
cowhide laced with the windpipe of the same beast. From his girdle hung a
row of seastones which jangled at every movement of his portentous frame
and on these were graven with rude yet striking art the tribal images of
many Irish heroes and heroines of antiquity, Cuchulin,98 Conn of hundred
battles,99 Niall of nine hostages,100 Brian of Kincora,101 the ardri Malachi,102
Art MacMurragh,103 Shane O'Neill,104 Father John Murphy,105 Owen Roe,106
Patrick Sarsfield,107 Red Hugh O'Donnell,108 Red Jim MacDermott,109
Soggarth Eoghan O'Growney,110 Michael Dwyer,111 Francy Higgins,112 Hen-
ry Joy M'Cracken,113 Goliath,114 Horace Wheatley,115 Thomas Conneff,
Peg Woffington,116 the Village Blacksmith,117 Captain Moonlight,118 Captain
Boycott,119 Dante Alighieri, Christopher Columbus, S. Fursa,120 S. Brendan,121
Marshal MacMahon,122 Charlemagne,123 Theobald Wolfe Tone,124 the Mother
of the Maccabees,125 the Last of the Mohicans,126 the Rose of Castile,127
the Man for Galway,128 The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo,129 The
Man in the Gap,130 The Woman Who Didn't,131 Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon
Bonaparte, John L. Sullivan,132 Cleopatra, Savourneen Deelish,133 Julius
Caesar, Paracelsus,134 sir Thomas Lipton,135 William Tell,136 Michelangelo
Hayes,137 Muhammad,138 the Bride of Lammermoor,139 Peter the Hermit,140
Peter the Packer,141 Dark Rosaleen,142 Patrick W. Shakespeare,143 Brian
Confucius,144 Murtagh Gutenberg,145 Patricio Velasquez,146 Captain Nemo,
147 Tristan and Isolde,148 the first Prince of Wales,149 Thomas Cook and
Son,150 the Bold Soldier Boy,151 Arrah na Pogue,152 Dick Turpin,153 Ludwig
Beethoven, the Colleen Bawn,154 Waddler Healy,155 Angus the Culdee,156
Dolly Mount,157 Sidney Parade,158 Ben Howth,159 Valentine Greatrakes,160
Adam and Eve,161 Arthur Wellesley,162 Boss Croker,163 Herodotus,164 Jack
the Giantkiller,165 Gautama Buddha,166 Lady Godiva,167 The Lily of Killarney,168
Balor of the Evil Eye,169 the Queen of Sheba,170 Acky Nagle,171 Joe Nagle,172
Alessandro Volta,173 Jeremiah O'Donovan Rossa,174 Don Philip O'Sullivan
Beare.175 A couched spear of acuminated granite rested by him while at his
feet reposed a savage animal of the canine tribe whose stertorous gasps
announced that he was sunk in uneasy slumber, a supposition confirmed
by hoarse growls and spasmodic movements which his master repressed
from time to time by tranquilising blows of a mighty cudgel rudely fashioned
out of paleolithic stone.

So anyhow Terry brought the three pints Joe was standing and begob the
sight nearly left my eyes when I saw him land out a quid O, as true as
I'm telling you. A goodlooking sovereign.

--And there's more where that came from, says he.

--Were you robbing the poorbox,176 Joe? says I.

--Sweat of my brow, says Joe. 'Twas the prudent member177 gave me the
wheeze.

--I saw him before I met you, says I, sloping around by Pill lane and Greek
street178 with his cod's eye179 counting up all the guts of the fish.

Who comes through Michan's land,180 bedight in sable armour? O'Bloom, the 　　PARODY
son of Rory:181 it is he. Impervious to fear is Rory's son: he of the prudent
soul.

--For the old woman of Prince's street, says the citizen, the subsidised
organ.182 The pledgebound party on the floor of the house.183 And look at
this blasted rag, says he. Look at this, says he. The Irish Independent, if
you please, founded by Parnell184 to be the workingman's friend. Listen to
the births and deaths in the Irish all for Ireland Independent, and I'll thank
you and the marriages.

And he starts reading them out:

--Gordon, Barnfield crescent, Exeter; Redmayne of Iffley, Saint Anne's on
Sea: the wife of William T Redmayne of a son. How's that, eh? Wright and
Flint, Vincent and Gillett to Rotha Marion daughter of Rosa and the late
George Alfred Gillett, 179 Clapham road, Stockwell, Playwood and Ridsdale
at Saint Jude's, Kensington by the very reverend Dr Forrest, dean of Wor-
cester. Eh? Deaths. Bristow, at Whitehall lane, London: Carr, Stoke New-
ington, of gastritis and heart disease: Cockburn, at the Moat house,
Chepstow . . .

--I know that fellow,185 says Joe, from bitter experience.

--Cockburn. Dimsey, wife of David Dimsey, late of the admiralty: Miller,
Tottenham, aged eightyfive: Welsh, June 12, at 35 Canning street, Liver-
pool, Isabella Helen.186 How's that for a national press, eh, my brown son!187
How's that for Martin Murphy, the Bantry jobber?188

--Ah, well, says Joe, handing round the boose. Thanks be to God they had
the start of us.189 Drink that, citizen.

--I will, says he, honourable person.

--Health, Joe, says I. And all down the form.190

Ah! Ow! Don't be talking! I was blue mouldy for the want of that pint.
Declare to God I could hear it hit the pit of my stomach with a click.

And lo, as they quaffed their cup of joy, a godlike messenger came swiftly 　　　　PARODY
in, radiant as the eye of heaven, a comely youth and behind him there pass-
ed an elder of noble gait and countenance, bearing the sacred scrolls of
law and with him his lady wife a dame of peerless lineage, fairest of her
race.

Little Alf Bergan popped in round the door and hid behind Barney's snug,191
squeezed up with the laughing. And who was sitting up there in the corner
that I hadn't seen snoring drunk blind to the world only Bob Doran. I
didn't know what was up and Alf kept making signs out of the door. And
begob what was it only that bloody old pantaloon Denis Breen in his bath-
slippers with two bloody big books tucked under his oxter and the wife
hotfoot after him, unfortunate wretched woman, trotting like a poodle. I
thought Alf would split.

--Look at him, says he. Breen. He's traipsing all round Dublin with a
postcard someone sent him with U. p: up192 on it to take a li . . .

And he doubled up.

--Take a what? says I.

--Libel action, says he, for ten thousand pounds.

--O hell! says I.

The bloody mongrel began to growl that'd put the fear of God in you seeing
something was up but the citizen gave him a kick in the ribs.

--Bi i dho husht,193 says he.

--Who? says Joe.

--Breen, says Alf. He was in John Henry Menton's and then he went round
to Collis and Ward's and then Tom Rochford met him and sent him round to
the subsheriff's for a lark. O God, I've a pain laughing. U. p: up. The long
fellow gave him an eye as good as a process and now the bloody old
lunatic is gone round to Green street to look for a G man.194

--When is long John going to hang that fellow in Mountjoy?195 says Joe.

--Bergan, says Bob Doran, waking up. Is that Alf Bergan?

--Yes, says Alf. Hanging? Wait till I show you. Here, Terry, give us a pony.196
That bloody old fool! Ten thousand pounds. You should have seen long John's
eye. U. p . . .

And he started laughing.

--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran. Is that Bergan?

--Hurry up, Terry boy, says Alf.

Terence O'Ryan197 heard him and straightway brought him a crystal cup full 　　　PARODY
of the foamy ebon ale which the noble twin brothers Bungiveagh and
Bungardilaun198 brew ever in their divine alevats, cunning as the sons of
deathless Leda.199 For they garner the succulent berries of the hop and mass
and sift and bruise and brew them and they mix therewith sour juices and
bring the must to the sacred fire and cease not night or day from their toil,
those cunning brothers, lords of the vat.

Then did you, chivalrous Terence, hand forth, as to the manner born,200 that
nectarous beverage and you offered the crystal cup to him that thirsted,
the soul of chivalry, in beauty akin to the immortals.

But he, the young chief of the O'Bergan's, could ill brook to be outdone
in generous deeds but gave therefor with gracious gesture a testoon201 of
costliest bronze. Thereon embossed in excellent smithwork was seen the
image of a queen of regal port, scion of the house of Brunswick, Victoria
her name, Her Most Excellent Majesty, by grace of God of the United King-
dom of Great Britain and Ireland and of the British dominions beyond the
sea, queen, defender of the faith, Empress of India,202 even she, who bore
rule, a victress over many peoples, the wellbeloved, for they knew and
loved her from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof,203 the pale,
the dark, the ruddy and the ethiop.

--What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and
down outside?

--What's that? says Joe.

--Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino.204 Talking about hanging,
I'll show you something you never saw. Hangmen's letters. Look at here.

So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.

--Are you codding?205 says I.

--Honest injun,206 says Alf. Read them.

So Joe took up the letters.

--Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.

So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the
porter's up in him so says I just to make talk:

--How's Willy Murray207 those times, Alf?

--I don't know, says Alf I saw him just now in Capel street208 with Paddy Dig-
nam. Only I was running after that . . .

--You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who?

--With Dignam, says Alf.

--Is it Paddy? says Joe.

--Yes, says Alf. Why?

--Don't you know he's dead? says Joe.

--Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf.

--Ay, says Joe.

--Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as a
pikestaff.209

--Who's dead? says Bob Doran.

--You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm.

--What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five . . . What? . . . And Willy Murray
with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's . . . What? Dignam
dead?

--What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who's talking about . . .?

--Dead! says Alf. He's no more dead than you are.

--Maybe so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning
anyhow.210

--Paddy? says Alf.

--Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him.

--Good Christ! says Alf.

Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.

In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by 　 　　　 　 　　PARODY
tantras211 had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing
luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of the
etheric double212 being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge of jivic
rays213 from the crown of the head and face. Communication was effected
through the pituitary body214 and also by means of the orangefiery and scar-
let rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Questioned by
his earth-name as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that
he was now on the path of pralaya or return215 but was still submitted to
trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels.216
In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide217 bey-
ond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly218 but that
those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development219
opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our ex-
perience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings220
now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home
comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat221 and that the high-
est adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature.222
Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded
relief. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were
still at the wrong side of Maya223 to acknowledge the true path for it was
reported in devanic circles224 that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on
the eastern angle where the ram has power.225 It was then queried whether
there were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was:
We greet you, friends of earth, who are still in the body. Mind c. K. Does-
n't pile it on. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius
Kelleher, manager of Messrs H. J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment,
a personal friend of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying
out of the interment arrangements. Before departing he requested that it
should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been
looking for was at present under the commode in the return room226 and that
the pair should be sent to Cullen's227 to be soled only as the heels were still
good. He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the
other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known.
Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was
intimated that this had given satisfaction.

He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was 　　　　　PARODY
his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba,228 with
your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.

--There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.

--Who? says I.

--Bloom, says he. He's on point duty229 up and down there for the last ten
minutes.

And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.

Little Alf was knocked bawways.230 Faith, he was.

--Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him.

And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll,231 lowest blackguard
in Dublin when he's under the influence:

--Who said Christ is good?

--I beg your parsnips, says Alf.

--Is that a good Christ, says Bob Doran, to take away poor little Willy Dig-
nam?

--Ah, well, says Alf, trying to pass it off. He's over all his troubles.

But Bob Doran shouts out of him.

--He's a bloody ruffian, I say, to take away poor little Willy Dignam.

Terry came down and tipped him the wink to keep quiet, that they didn't
want that kind of talk in a respectable licensed premises. And Bob
Doran starts doing the weeps about Paddy Dignam, true as you're there.

--The finest man, says he, snivelling, the finest purest character.

The tear is bloody near your eye.232 Talking through his bloody hat. Fitter
for him go home to the little sleepwalking bitch he married, Mooney, the
bumbailiff's daughter, mother kept a kip in Hardwicke street, that used
to be stravaging about the landings Bantam Lyons told me that was stop-
ping there at two in the morning without a stitch on her, exposing her
person, open to all comers, fair field and no favour.233

--The noblest, the truest, says he. And he's gone, poor little Willy,
poor little Paddy Dignam.

And mournful and with a heavy heart he bewept the extinction of that beam 　　　　 PARODY
of heaven.

Old Garryowen started growling again at Bloom that was skeezing234 round the
door.

--Come in, come on, he won't eat you, says the citizen.

So Bloom slopes in with his cod's eye on the dog and he asks Terry was
Martin Cunningham there.

--O, Christ M'Keown,235 says Joe, reading one of the letters. Listen to this,
will you?

And he starts reading out one.


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　7 Hunter street,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Liverpool.
To the High Sheriff of Dublin,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dublin.

Honoured sir I beg to offer my services in the abovementioned painful case
I hanged Joe Gann236 in Bootle Jail237 on the 12 of Febuary 1900 and I hanged . . .

--Show us, Joe, says I.

--. . . Private Arthur Chace for fowl murder of Jessie Tilsit238 in Pentonville
Prison239 and I was assistant when . . .

--Jesus, says I.

--. . . Billington240 executed the awful murderer Toad Smith . . .241

The citizen made a grab at the letter.

--Hold hard, says Joe, I have a special nack of putting the noose once in he
can't get out hoping to be favoured I remain, honoured Sir, my terms is five
ginnees.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　H. Rumbold,242
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Master barber.243

--And a barbarous bloody barbarian he is too, says the citizen.

--And the dirty scrawl of the wretch, says Joe. Here, says he, take them to hell
out of my sight, Alf. Hello, Bloom, says he, what will you have?

So they started arguing about the point, Bloom saying he wouldn't and he couldn't
and excuse him no offence and all to that and then he said well he'd just take a
cigar. Gob, he's a prudent member and no mistake.

--Give us one of your prime stinkers, Terry, says Joe.

And Alf was telling us there was one chap sent in a mourning card with a black
border round it.

--They're all barbers, says he, from the black country that would hang their own
fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses.

And he was telling us there's two fellows waiting below to pull his heels down
when he gets the drop and choke him properly and then they chop up the rope
after and sell the bits for a few bob a skull.

In the dark land they bide, the vengeful knights of the razor. Their deadly 　　　　　　 PARODY
coil they grasp: yea, and therein they lead to Erebus244 whatsoever wight hath
done a deed of blood for I will on nowise suffer it even so saith the
Lord.

So they started talking about capital punishment and of course Bloom comes
out with the why and the wherefore and all the codology245 of the business and
the old dog smelling him all the time I'm told those jewies does have a sort
of a queer odour coming off them for dogs about I don't know what all de-
terrent effect and so forth and so on.

--There's one thing it hasn't a deterrent effect on, says Alf.

--What's that? says Joe.

--The poor bugger's tool246 that's being hanged, says Alf.

--That so? says Joe.

--God's truth, says Alf. I heard that from the head warder that was in Kil-
mainham247 when they hanged Joe Brady, the invincible.248 He told me when
they cut him down after the drop it was standing up in their faces like
a poker.

--Ruling passion strong in death,248 says Joe, as someone said.

--That can be explained by science, says Bloom. It's only a natural pheno-
menon, don't you see, because on account of the . . .

And then he starts with his jawbreakers about phenomenon and science and
this phenomenon and the other phenomenon.

The distinguished scientist Herr Professor Luitpold Blumenduft249 tendered 　　　　 PARODY
medical evidence to the effect that the instantaneous fracture of the
cervical vertebrae and consequent scission of the spinal cord would, ac-
cording to the best approved tradition of medical science, be calculated
to inevitably produce in the human subject a violent ganglionic stimulus
of the nerve centres of the genital apparatus, thereby causing the elastic
pores of the Corpora Cavernosa250 to rapidly dilate in such a way as to in-
stantaneously facilitate the flow of blood to that part of the human ana-
tomy known as the penis or male organ resulting in the phenomenon which
has been denominated by the faculty a morbid upwards and outwards philo-
progenitive251 erection In articulo mortis per diminutionem capitis.252

So of course the citizen was only waiting for the wink of the word and he
starts gassing out of him about the invincibles253 and the old guard254 and
the men of sixtyseven255 and who fears to speak of ninetyeight256 and Joe
with him about all the fellows that were hanged, drawn and transported for the
cause by drumhead courtmartial257 and a new Ireland and new this, that and
the other. Talking about new Ireland he ought to go and get a new dog so
he ought. Mangy ravenous brute sniffing and sneezing all round the place
and scratching his scabs. And round he goes to Bob Doran that was standing
Alf a half one sucking up for what he could get. So of course Bob Doran
starts doing the bloody fool with him:

--Give us the paw! Give the paw, doggy! Good old doggy! Give the paw here!
Give us the paw!

Arrah, bloody end to the paw he'd paw and Alf trying to keep him from tum-
bling off the bloody stool atop of the bloody old dog and he talking all
kinds of drivel about training by kindness and thoroughbred dog and intel-
ligent dog: give you the bloody pip.258 Then he starts scraping a few bits of
old biscuit out of the bottom of a Jacobs' tin259 he told Terry to bring. Gob,
he golloped it down like old boots and his tongue hanging out of him a yard
long for more. Near ate the tin and all, hungry bloody mongrel.

And the citizen and Bloom having an argument about the point, the brothers
Sheares260 and Wolfe Tone beyond on Arbour Hill261 and Robert Emmet and die for
your country,262 the Tommy Moore touch about Sara Curran and she's far from
the land.263 And Bloom, of course, with his knockmedown cigar putting on swank
with his lardy face. Phenomenon! The fat heap he married is a nice old phe-
nomenon with a back on her like a ballalley. Time they were stopping up in
the City Arms264 pisser Burke265 told me there was an old one266 there with
a cracked loodheramaun267 of a nephew and Bloom trying to get the soft side
of her doing the mollycoddle playing bezique268 to come in for a bit of the
wampum269 in her will and not eating meat of a Friday because the old one was
always thumping her craw270 and taking the lout out for a walk. And one time he
led him the rounds of Dublin and, by the holy farmer,271 he never cried crack till
he brought him home as drunk as a boiled owl and he said he did it to teach
him the evils of alcohol and by herrings, if the three women didn't near roast
him, it's a queer story, the old one, Bloom's wife and Mrs O'Dowd272 that kept
the hotel. Jesus, I had to laugh at pisser Burke taking them off chewing the
fat. And Bloom with his but don't you see? and but on the other hand. And sure,
more be token, the lout I'm told was in Power's after, the blender's, round in
Cope street273 going home footless in a cab five times in the week after drinking
his way through all the samples in the bloody establishment. Phenomenon!

--The memory of the dead, says the citizen taking up his pintglass and glaring
at Bloom.

--Ay, ay, says Joe.

--You don't grasp my point, says Bloom. What I mean is . . .

--Sinn fein! says the citizen. Sinn fein amhain! 274The friends we love are by
our side and the foes we hate before us.275

The last farewell was affecting in the extreme. From the belfries far 　　 　　　　　　　PARODY
and near the funereal deathbell tolled unceasingly while all around the
gloomy precincts rolled the ominous warning of a hundred muffled drums
punctuated by the hollow booming of pieces of ordnance. The deafening
claps of thunder and the dazzling flashes of lightning which lit up the
ghastly scene testified that the artillery of heaven had lent its super-
natural pomp to the already gruesome spectacle. A torrential rain poured
down from the floodgates of the angry heavens upon the bared heads of
the assembled multitude which numbered at the lowest computation five
hundred thousand persons. A posse of Dublin Metropolitan police superin-
tended by the Chief Commissioner in person maintained order in the vast
throng for whom the York street brass and reed band276 whiled away the
intervening time by admirably rendering on their blackdraped instruments
the matchless melody endeared to us from the cradle by Speranza's plain-
tive muse.277 Special quick excursion trains and upholstered charabancs
had been provided for the comfort of our country cousins of whom there
were large contingents. Considerable amusement was caused by the favourite
Dublin streetsingers L-n-h-n and M-ll-g-n who sang The Night Before Larry
was Stretched278 in their usual mirth-provoking fashion. Our two inimitable
drolls did a roaring trade with their broadsheets among lovers of the com-
edy element and nobody who has a corner in his heart for real Irish fun
without vulgarity will grudge them their hardearned pennies. The children
of the Male and Female Foundling Hospital279 who thronged the windows over-
looking the scene were delighted with this unexpected addition to the day's
entertainment and a word of praise is due to the Little Sisters of the Poor280
for their excellent idea of affording the poor fatherless and motherless
children a genuinely instructive treat. The viceregal houseparty which in-
cluded many wellknown ladies was chaperoned by Their Excellencies to the
most favourable positions on the grandstand while the picturesque foreign
delegation known as the Friends of the Emerald Isle was accommodated on a
tribune directly opposite. The delegation, present in full force, consisted of
Commendatore Bacibaci Beninobenone281 (the semiparalysed doyen282 of
the party who had to be assisted to his seat by the aid of a powerful steam
crane), Monsieur Pierrepaul Petitepatant,283 the Grandjoker Vladinmire
Pokethankertscheff, the Archjoker Leopold Rudolph von Schwanzenbad-Hoden-
thaler,284 Countess Marha Viraga Kisaszony Putrapesthi,285 Hiram Y. Bomboost,
Count Athanatos Karamelopulos,286 Ali Baba Backsheesh Rahat Lokum Effendi,287
Senor Hidalgo Caballero Don Pecadillo y Palabras y Paternoster de la Malora de
la Malaria,288 Hokopoko289 Harakiri, Hi Hung Chang,290 Olaf Kobberkeddelsen,291
Mynheer Trik van Trumps, Pan Poleaxe Paddyrisky,292 Goosepond293 Prhklstr
Kratchinabritchisitch, Borus Hupinkoff,294 Herr Hurhausdirektorpresident Hans
Chuechli-Steuerli,295 Nationalgymnasiummuseumsanatoriumandsuspensori-
umsordinaryprivatdocentgeneralhistoryspecialprofessordoctor Kriegfried Ue-
berallgemein.296 All the delegates without exception expressed themselves
in the strongest possible heterogeneous terms concerning the nameless
barbarity which they had been called upon to witness. An animated alter-
cation (in which all took part) ensued among the F. O. T. E. I.297 as to
whether the eighth or the ninth of March was the correct date of the
birth of Ireland's patron saint.298 In the course of the argument cannon-
balls, scimitars, boomerangs, blunderbusses, stinkpots, meatchoppers,
umbrellas, catapults, knuckledusters, sandbags, lumps of pig iron were
resorted to and blows were freely exchanged. The baby policeman, Con-
stable MacFadden, summoned by special courier from Booterstown, quickly
restored order and with lightning promptitude proposed the seventeenth
of the month as a solution equally honourable for both contending par-
ties. The readywitted ninefooter's299 suggestion at once appealed to all
and was unanimously accepted. Constable MacFadden was heartily congra-
tulated by all the F.O.T.E.I., several of whom were bleeding profusely.
Commendatore Beninobenone having been extricated from underneath the
presidential armchair, it was explained by his legal adviser Avvocato
Pagamimi300 that the various articles secreted in his thirtytwo pockets301
had been abstracted by him during the affray from the pockets of his
junior colleagues in the hope of bringing them to their senses. The
objects (which included several hundred ladies' and gentlemen's gold
and silver watches) were promptly restored to their rightful owners
and general harmony reigned supreme.

Quietly, unassumingly Rumbold stepped on to the scaffold in faultless
morning dress and wearing his favourite flower, the Gladiolus Cruentus.302
He announced his presence by that gentle Rumboldian cough which so many
have tried (unsuccessfully) to imitate --short, painstaking yet withal
so characteristic of the man. The arrival of the worldrenowned headsman
was greeted by a roar of acclamation from the huge concourse, the vice-
regal ladies waving their handkerchiefs in their excitement while the
even more excitable foreign delegates cheered vociferously in a medley
of cries, hoch, banzai, eljen, zivio, chinchin, polla kronia, hiphip, vive,
allah, amid which the ringing evviva303 of the delegate of the land
of song (a high double F recalling those piercingly lovely notes with
which the eunuch Catalani304 beglamoured our greatgreatgrandmothers)
was easily distinguishable. It was exactly seventeen o'clock. The signal
for prayer was then promptly given by megaphone and in an instant all
heads were bared, the commendatore's patriarchal sombrero, which has
been in the possession of his family since the revolution of Rienzi,305
being removed by his medical adviser in attendance, Dr Pippi.306 The lear-
ned prelate who administered the last comforts of holy religion to the
hero martyr when about to pay the death penalty knelt in a most christ-
ian spirit in a pool of rainwater, his cassock above his hoary head, and
offered up to the throne of grace fervent prayers of supplication. Hand
by the block stood the grim figure of the executioner, his visage being
concealed in a tengallon pot with two circular perforated apertures
through which his eyes glowered furiously. As he awaited the fatal signal
he tested the edge of his horrible weapon by honing it upon his brawny
forearm or decapitated in rapid succession a flock of sheep which had
been provided by the admirers of his fell but necessary office. On a hand-
some mahogany table near him were neatly arranged the quartering knife,
the various finely tempered disembowelling appliances307 (specially supplied
by the worldfamous firm of cutlers, Messrs John Round and Sons, Sheffield308),
a terra cotta saucepan for the reception of the duodenum, colon, blind in-
testine309 and appendix etc when successfully extracted and two commodious
milkjugs destined to receive the most precious blood of the most precious
victim. The housesteward of the amalgamated cats' and dogs' home310 was in at-
tendance to convey these vessels when replenished to that beneficent insti-
tution. Quite an excellent repast consisting of rashers and eggs, fried
steak and onions, done to a nicety, delicious hot breakfast rolls and in-
vigorating tea had been considerately provided by the authorities for the
consumption of the central figure of the tragedy who was in capital spirits
when prepared for death and evinced the keenest interest in the proceedings
from beginning to end but he, with an abnegation rare in these our times,
rose nobly to the occasion and expressed the dying wish (immediately acceded
to) that the meal should be divided in aliquot parts among the members of the
sick and indigent roomkeepers' association311 as a token of his regard and es-
teem. The nec and non plus ultra312 of emotion were reached when the blush-
ing bride elect burst her way through the serried ranks of the bystanders and
flung herself upon the muscular bosom of him who was about to be launched
into eternity for her sake. The hero folded her willowy form in a loving em-
brace murmuring fondly Sheila, my own.313 Encouraged by this use of her christ-
ian name she kissed passionately all the various suitable areas of his person
which the decencies of prison garb permitted her ardour to reach. She swore
to him as they mingled the salt streams of their tears that she would ever
cherish his memory, that she would never forget her hero boy who went to his
death with a song on his lips as if he were but going to a hurling match314 in
Clonturk park.315 She brought back to his recollection the happy days of bliss-
ful childhood together on the banks of Anna Liffey316 when they had indulged in
the innocent pastimes of the young and, oblivious of the dreadful present,
they both laughed heartily, all the spectators, including the venerable pas-
tor, joining in the general merriment. That monster audience simply rocked
with delight. But anon they were overcome with grief and clasped their hands
for the last time. A fresh torrent of tears burst from their lachrymal ducts
and the vast concourse of people, touched to the inmost core, broke into heart-
rending sobs, not the least affected being the aged prebendary himself. Big
strong men, officers of the peace and genial giants of the royal Irish con-
stabulary, were making frank use of their handkerchiefs317 and it is safe to say
that there was not a dry eye in that record assemblage. A most romantic inci-
dent occurred when a handsome young Oxford graduate,318 noted for his chivalry
towards the fair sex, stepped forward and, presenting his visiting card, bank-
book and genealogical tree, solicited the hand of the hapless young lady, re-
questing her to name the day, and was accepted on the spot.319 Every lady in the
audience was presented with a tasteful souvenir of the occasion in the shape
of a skull and crossbones brooch, a timely and generous act which evoked a
fresh outburst of emotion: and when the gallant young Oxonian (the bearer,
by the way, of one of the most timehonoured names in Albion's history) placed
on the finger of his blushing Fiancee an expensive engagement ring with emer-
alds set in the form of a fourleaved shamrock the excitement knew no bounds.
Nay, even the stern provostmarshal, lieutenantcolonel Tomkin-Maxwell ffrench-
mullan Tomlinson,320 who presided on the sad occasion, he who had blown a consi-
derable number of sepoys from the cannonmouth321 without flinching, could not
now restrain his natural emotion. With his mailed gauntlet he brushed away a
furtive tear322 and was overheard, by those privileged burghers who happened to
be in his immediate Entourage, to murmur to himself in a faltering undertone:

--God blimey323 if she aint a clinker,324 that there bleeding tart. Blimey it makes
me kind of bleeding cry, straight, it does, when I sees her cause I thinks of my
old mashtub325 what's waiting for me down Limehouse326 way.

So then the citizen begins talking about the Irish language and the corporation
meeting327 and all to that and the shoneens328 that can't speak their own
language and Joe chipping in because he stuck someone for a quid and Bloom
putting in his old goo with his twopenny stump that he cadged off of Joe
and talking about the Gaelic league329 and the antitreating league330 and drink,
the curse of Ireland. Antitreating is about the size of it. Gob, he'd let you
pour all manner of drink down his throat till the Lord would call him before
you'd ever see the froth of his pint. And one night I went in with a fellow
into one of their musical evenings, song and dance about she could get up
on a truss of hay she could my Maureen Lay331 and there was a fellow
with a Ballyhooly blue ribbon badge332 spiffing out of him in Irish and a lot
of colleen bawns333 going about with temperance beverages and selling medals
and oranges and lemonade and a few old dry buns, gob, flahoolagh334 entertain-
ment, don't be talking. Ireland sober is Ireland free.335 And then an old fel-
low starts blowing into his bagpipes and all the gougers shuffling their feet
to the tune the old cow died of.336 And one or two sky pilots337 having
an eye around that there was no goings on with the females, hitting below
the belt.

So howandever, as I was saying, the old dog seeing the tin was empty starts
mousing around by Joe and me. I'd train him by kindness, so I would, if he
was my dog. Give him a rousing fine kick now and again where it wouldn't
blind him.

--Afraid he'll bite you? says the citizen, jeering.

--No, says I. But he might take my leg for a lamppost.

So he calls the old dog over.

--What's on you, Garry? says he.

Then he starts hauling and mauling and talking to him in Irish and the
old towser growling, letting on to answer, like a duet in the opera. Such
growling you never heard as they let off between them. Someone that has
nothing better to do ought to write a letter pro bono publico338 to the papers
about the muzzling order for a dog the like of that. Growling and grousing
and his eye all bloodshot from the drouth is in it and the hydrophobia
dropping out of his jaws.

All those who are interested in the spread of human culture among the 　　 　　　　PARODY
lower animals (and their name is legion) should make a point of not
missing the really marvellous exhibition of cynanthropy339 given by the
famous old Irish red setter wolfdog formerly known by the sobriquet of
Garryowen and recently rechristened340 by his large circle of friends and
acquaintances Owen Garry.341 The exhibition, which is the result of years
of training by kindness and a carefully thoughtout dietary system, com-
prises, among other achievements, the recitation of verse. Our greatest
living phonetic expert (wild horses shall not drag it from us!) has left
no stone unturned in his efforts to delucidate and compare the verse re-
cited and has found it bears a striking resemblance (the italics are ours)
to the ranns342 of ancient Celtic bards. We are not speaking so much of
those delightful lovesongs with which the writer who conceals his iden-
tity under the graceful pseudonym of the Little Sweet Branch343 has famil-
iarised the bookloving world but rather (as a contributor D. O. C.344 points
out in aninteresting communication published by an evening contemporary)
of the harsher and more personal note which is found in the satirical effu-
sions of the famous Raftery345 and of Donal MacConsidine346 to say nothing
of a more modern lyrist at present very much in the public eye. We subjoin a
specimen which has been rendered into English by an eminent scholar whose
name for the moment we are not at liberty to disclose though we believe that
our readers will find the topical allusion rather more than an indication.
The metrical system of the canine original, which recalls the intricate al-
literative and isosyllabic rules of the Welsh englyn,347 is infinitely more
complicated but we believe our readers will agree that the spirit has been
well caught. Perhaps it should be added that the effect is greatly increased
if Owen's verse be spoken somewhat slowly and indistinctly in a tone suggest-
ive of suppressed rancour.


　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The curse of my curses
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Seven days every day
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And seven dry Thursdays
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　On you, Barney Kiernan,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Has no sup of water
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　To cool my courage,
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　And my guts red roaring
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　After Lowry's Lights.348

So he told Terry to bring some water for the dog and, gob, you could
hear him lapping it up a mile off. And Joe asked him would he have an-
other.

--I will, says he, a chara,349 to show there's no ill feeling.

Gob, he's not as green as he's cabbagelooking.350 Arsing around from one
pub to another, leaving it to your own honour, with old Giltrap's351 dog
and getting fed up by the ratepayers and corporators.352 Entertainment for
man and beast. And says Joe:

--Could you make a hole in another pint?

--Could a swim duck? says I.

--Same again, Terry, says Joe. Are you sure you won't have anything in the
way of liquid refreshment? says he.

--Thank you, no, says Bloom. As a matter of fact I just wanted to meet
Martin Cunningham, don't you see, about this insurance of poor Dignam's.
Martin asked me to go to the house. You see, he, Dignam, I mean, didn't
serve any notice of the assignment on the company at the time and nomi-
nally under the act the mortgagee can't recover on the policy.353

--Holy Wars, says Joe, laughing, that's a good one if old Shylock is landed.354
So the wife comes out top dog, what?

--Well, that's a point, says Bloom, for the wife's admirers.

--Whose admirers? says Joe.

--The wife's advisers, I mean, says Bloom.

Then he starts all confused mucking it up about mortgagor under the act
like the lord chancellor giving it out on the bench and for the benefit
of the wife and that a trust is created but on the other hand that Dignam
owed Bridgeman the money and if now the wife or the widow contested the
mortgagee's right till he near had the head of me addled with his mortgagor
under the act. He was bloody safe he wasn't run in himself under the act
that time as a rogue and vagabond only he had a friend in court. Selling
bazaar tickets or what do you call it royal Hungarian privileged lottery.355
True as you're there. O, commend me to an israelite!356 Royal and privileged
Hungarian robbery.

So Bob Doran comes lurching around asking Bloom to tell Mrs Dignam he
was sorry for her trouble and he was very sorry about the funeral and to
tell her that he said and everyone who knew him said that there was never
a truer, a finer than poor little Willy that's dead to tell her. Choking
with bloody foolery. And shaking Bloom's hand doing the tragic to tell her
that. Shake hands, brother. You're a rogue and I'm another.

--Let me, said he, so far presume upon our acquaintance which, however 　　　　 　PARODY
slight it may appear if judged by the standard of mere time, is founded,
as I hope and believe, on a sentiment of mutual esteem as to request of
you this favour. But, should I have overstepped the limits of reserve let
the sincerity of my feelings be the excuse for my boldness.

--No, rejoined the other, I appreciate to the full the motives which actuate
your conduct and I shall discharge the office you entrust to me consoled by
the reflection that, though the errand be one of sorrow, this proof of your
confidence sweetens in some measure the bitterness of the cup.

--Then suffer me to take your hand, said he. The goodness of your heart,
I feel sure, will dictate to you better than my inadequate words the
expressions which are most suitable to convey an emotion whose poignan-
cy, were I to give vent to my feelings, would deprive me even of
speech.

And off with him and out trying to walk straight. Boosed at five o'clock.
Night he was near being lagged357 only Paddy Leonard knew the bobby, 14A.358
Blind to the world up in a shebeen359 in Bride street360 after closing time,
fornicating with two shawls361 and a bully362 on guard, drinking porter out
of teacups. And calling himself a Frenchy for the shawls, Joseph Manuo,363
and talking against the Catholic religion, and he serving mass in Adam and
Eve's364 when he was young with his eyes shut, who wrote the new testa-
ment, and the old testament, and hugging and smugging.365 And the two shawls
killed with the laughing, picking his pockets, the bloody fool and he spilling
the porter all over the bed and the two shawls screeching laughing at one
another. How is your testament?366 Have you got an old testament? Only Pad-
dy was passing there, I tell you what. Then see him of a Sunday with his lit-
tle concubine of a wife, and she wagging her tail up the aisle of the chapel367
with her patent boots on her, no less, and her violets, nice as pie, doing
the little lady. Jack Mooney's sister. And the old prostitute of a mother
procuring rooms to street couples. Gob, Jack made him toe the line. Told
him if he didn't patch up the pot,368 Jesus, he'd kick the shite out of him.

So Terry brought the three pints.

--Here, says Joe, doing the honours. Here, citizen.

--Slan leat,369 says he.

--Fortune, Joe, says I. Good health, citizen.

Gob, he had his mouth half way down the tumbler already. Want a small fortune
to keep him in drinks.

--Who is the long fellow running for the mayoralty,370 Alf? says Joe.

--Friend of yours, says Alf.

--Nannan?371 says Joe. The mimber?

--I won't mention any names, says Alf.

--I thought so, says Joe. I saw him up at that meeting now with William Field,
M. P.,372 the cattle traders.

--Hairy Iopas,373 says the citizen, that exploded volcano, the darling of all
countries and the idol of his own.

So Joe starts telling the citizen about the foot and mouth disease and
the cattle traders and taking action in the matter and the citizen sending
them all to the rightabout374 and Bloom coming out with his sheepdip for the
scab375 and a hoose drench for coughing calves376 and the guaranteed rem-
edy for timber tongue.377 Because he was up one time in a knacker's yard.378
Walking about with his book and pencil here's my head and my heels are
coming379 till Joe Cuffe gave him the order of the boot for giving lip to a
grazier. Mister Knowall. Teach your grandmother how to milk ducks. Pisser
Burke was telling me in the hotel the wife used to be in rivers of tears
some times with Mrs O'Dowd crying her eyes out with her eight inches of
fat all over her. Couldn't loosen her farting strings but old cod's eye
was waltzing around her showing her how to do it. What's your programme
today? Ay. Humane methods. Because the poor animals suffer and experts
say and the best known remedy that doesn't cause pain to the animal and
on the sore spot administer gently. Gob, he'd have a soft hand under a hen.380

Ga Ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook. Black Liz is our hen. She lays eggs 　　　　　　　　　　PARODY
for us. When she lays her egg she is so glad. Gara. Klook Klook Klook.
Then comes good uncle Leo. He puts his hand under black Liz and takes
her fresh egg. Ga ga ga ga Gara. Klook Klook Klook.

--Anyhow, says Joe, Field and Nannetti are going over tonight to London
to ask about it381 on the floor of the house of commons.

--Are you sure, says Bloom, the councillor is going? I wanted to see him,
as it happens.

--Well, he's going off by the mailboat,382 says Joe, tonight.

--That's too bad, says Bloom. I wanted particularly. Perhaps only Mr Field
is going. I couldn't phone. No. You're sure?

--Nannan's going too, says Joe. The league told him to ask a question
tomorrow about the commissioner of police forbidding Irish games in the
park.383 What do you think of that, citizen? The Sluagh na h-Eireann.384

Mr Cowe Conacre385 (Multifarnham. Nat.): Arising out of the question of my 　　　　PARODY
honourable friend, the member for Shillelagh,386 may I ask the right honou-
rable gentleman whether the government has issued orders that these ani-
mals shall be slaughtered though no medical evidence is forthcoming as
to their pathological condition?387

Mr Allfours388 (Tamoshant. Con.): Honourable members are already in possess-
ion of the evidence produced before a committee of the whole house. I feel
I cannot usefully add anything to that. The answer to the honourable mem-
ber's question is in the affirmative.

Mr Orelli O'Reilly389 (Montenotte. Nat.): Have similar orders been issued for
the slaughter of human animals who dare to play Irish games in the Phoenix
park?

Mr Allfours: The answer is in the negative.

Mr Cowe Conacre: Has the right honourable gentleman's famous Mitchels-
town telegram390 inspired the policy of gentlemen on the Treasury bench?391
(O! O!)

Mr Allfours: I must have notice of that question.392

Mr Staylewit393 (Buncombe. Ind.): Don't hesitate to shoot.394

(Ironical opposition cheers.)

The speaker: Order! Order!

(The house rises. Cheers.)

--There's the man, says Joe, that made the Gaelic sports revival.395 There he
is sitting there. The man that got away James Stephens.396 The champion of all
Ireland at putting the sixteen pound shot.397 What was your best throw, citi-
zen?

--Na bacleis,398 says the citizen, letting on to be modest. There was a time I
was as good as the next fellow anyhow.

--Put it there, citizen, says Joe. You were and a bloody sight better.

--Is that really a fact? says Alf.

--Yes, says Bloom. That's well known. Did you not know that?

So off they started about Irish sports and shoneen399 games the like of lawn
tennis and about hurley400 and putting the stone401 and racy of the soil402 and buil-
ding up a nation once again403 and all to that. And of course Bloom had to have
his say too about if a fellow had a rower's heart violent exercise was bad.
I declare to my antimacassar if you took up a straw from the bloody floor
and if you said to Bloom: Look at, bloom. Do you see that straw? That's a
straw. Declare to my aunt he'd talk about it for an hour so he would and
talk steady.

A most interesting discussion took place in the ancient hall of Brian O'ci-　　　　　　PARODY
arnain's in Sraid na bretaine Bheag,404 under the auspices of Sluagh na h-Eir-
eann,405 on the revival of ancient Gaelic sports and the importance of physical
culture, as understood in ancient Greece and ancient Rome and ancient Ire-
land, for the development of the race. The venerable president of the noble
order was in the chair and the attendance was of large dimensions. After an
instructive discourse by the chairman, a magnificent oration eloquently and
forcibly expressed, a most interesting and instructive discussion of the u-
sual high standard of excellence ensued as to the desirability of the revi-
vability of the ancient games and sports of our ancient Panceltic forefath-
ers. The wellknown and highly respected worker in the cause of our old
tongue, Mr Joseph M'Carthy Hynes, made an eloquent appeal for the resusc-
itation of the ancient Gaelic sports and pastimes, practised morning and
evening by Finn MacCool,406 as calculated to revive the best traditions of
manly strength and prowess handed down to us from ancient ages. L. Bloom,
who met with a mixed reception of applause and hisses, having espoused the
negative the vocalist chairman brought the discussion to a close, in re-
sponse to repeated requests and hearty plaudits from all parts of a bum-
per house, by a remarkably noteworthy rendering of the immortal Thomas
Osborne Davis' evergreen verses (happily too familiar to need recalling
here) A Nation Once Again407 in the execution of which the veteran patriot
champion may be said without fear of contradiction to have fairly excel-
led himself. The Irish Caruso-Garibaldi408 was in superlative form and his
stentorian notes were heard to the greatest advantage in the timehonoured
anthem sung as only our citizen can sing it. His superb highclass vocal-
ism, which by its superquality greatly enhanced his already international
reputation, was vociferously applauded by the large audience among which
were to be noticed many prominent members of the clergy as well as repre-
sentatives of the press and the bar and the other learned professions.
The proceedings then terminated.

Amongst the clergy present were the very rev. William Delany, S. J., L. L.
D.;409 the rt rev. Gerald Molloy, D. D.;410 the rev. P. J. Kavanagh, C. S. Sp.;411
the rev. T. Waters, C. C.;412 the rev. John M. Ivers, P. P.;413 the rev. P. J.
Cleary, O. S. F.;414 the rev. L. J. Hickey, O. P.;415 the very rev. Fr. Nicho-
las, O. S. F. C.;416 the very rev. B. Gorman, O. D. C.;417 the rev. T. Maher,
S. J.;418 the very rev. James Murphy, S. J.;419 the rev. John Lavery, V. F.;420
the very rev. William Doherty, D. D.;421 the rev. Peter Fagan, O. M.;422 the
rev. T. Brangan, O. S. A.;423 the rev. J. Flavin, C. C.;424 the rev. M. A. Hack-
ett, C. C.;425 the rev. W. Hurley, C. C.;426 the rt rev. Mgr M'Manus, V. G.;427 the
rev. B. R. Slattery, O. M. I.;428 the very rev. M. D. Scally, P. P.;429 the rev.
F. T. Purcell, O. P.;430 the very rev. Timothy canon Gorman, P. P.;431 the rev.
J. Flanagan, C. C.432 The laity included P. Fay,433 T. Quirke,434 etc., etc.

--Talking about violent exercise, says Alf, were you at that Keogh-Bennett435
match?

--No, says Joe.

--I heard So and So made a cool hundred quid over it, says Alf.

--Who? Blazes? says Joe.

And says Bloom:

--What I meant about tennis, for example, is the agility and training the
eye.

--Ay, Blazes, says Alf. He let out that Myler was on the beer to run up the
odds and he swatting all the time.436

--We know him, says the citizen. The traitor's son.437 We know what put English
gold in his pocket.

---True for you, says Joe.

And Bloom cuts in again about lawn tennis and the circulation of the blood,
asking Alf:

--Now, don't you think, Bergan?

--Myler dusted the floor with him, says Alf. Heenan and Sayers438 was only
a bloody fool to it. Handed him the father and mother of a beating. See the
little kipper439 not up to his navel and the big fellow swiping. God, he gave
him one last puck in the wind, Queensberry rules440 and all, made him puke
what he never ate.

It was a historic and a hefty battle when Myler and Percy were scheduled 　　 　　　PARODY
to don the gloves for the purse of fifty sovereigns. Handicapped as he
was by lack of poundage, Dublin's pet lamb made up for it by superlative
skill in ringcraft. The final bout of fireworks was a gruelling for both
champions. The welterweight sergeantmajor had tapped some lively
claret in the previous mixup during which Keogh had been receivergeneral
of rights and lefts, the artilleryman putting in some neat work on the pet's
nose, and Myler came on looking groggy. The soldier got to business, lead-
ing off with a powerful left jab to which the Irish gladiator retaliated by
shooting out a stiff one flush to the point of Bennett's jaw. The redcoat
ducked but the Dubliner lifted him with a left hook, the body punch being
a fine one. The men came to handigrips. Myler quickly became busy and got
his man under, the bout441 ending with the bulkier man on the ropes, Myler
punishing him. The Englishman, whose right eye was nearly closed, took
his corner where he was liberally drenched with water and when the bell
went came on gamey and brimful of pluck, confident of knocking out the
fistic Eblanite442 in jigtime. It was a fight to a finish and the best man
for it. The two fought like tigers and excitement ran fever high. The
referee twice cautioned Pucking Percy for holding but the pet was tricky
and his footwork a treat to watch. After a brisk exchange of courtesies
during which a smart upper cut of the military man brought blood freely
from his opponent's mouth the lamb suddenly waded in all over his man and
landed a terrific left to Battling Bennett's stomach, flooring him flat.
It was a knockout clean and clever. Amid tense expectation the Portobello443
bruiser was being counted out when Bennett's second Ole Pfotts Wettstein444
threw in the towel and the Santry445 boy was declared victor to the frenzied
cheers of the public who broke through the ringropes and fairly mobbed
him with delight.

--He knows which side his bread is buttered, says Alf. I hear he's running
a concert tour now up in the north.

--He is, says Joe. Isn't he?

--Who? says Bloom. Ah, yes. That's quite true. Yes, a kind of summer tour,
you see. Just a holiday.

--Mrs B. is the bright particular star,446 isn't she? says Joe.

--My wife? says Bloom. She's singing, yes. I think it will be a success too.
He's an excellent man to organise. Excellent.

Hoho begob says I to myself says I.447 That explains the milk in the cocoanut
and absence of hair on the animal's chest. Blazes doing the tootle on the
flute.448 Concert tour. Dirty Dan the dodger's son off Island bridge that sold
the same horses twice over to the government to fight the Boers.449 Old What-
what. I called about the poor and water rate,450 Mr Boylan. You what? The wa-
ter rate, Mr Boylan. You whatwhat? That's the bucko that'll organise her,
take my tip. ‘Twixt me and you Caddareesh.451

Pride of Calpe's rocky mount,452 the ravenhaired daughter of Tweedy. There 　　　　PARODY
grew she to peerless beauty where loquat and almond scent the air. The
gardens of Alameda453 knew her step: the garths of olives knew and bowed.
The chaste spouse of Leopold is she: Marion of the bountiful bosoms.

And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely hero of
white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in
the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert.

--Hello, Ned.

--Hello, Alf.

--Hello, Jack.

--Hello, Joe.

--God save you, says the citizen.

--Save you kindly, says J. J. What'll it be, Ned?

--Half one, says Ned.

So J. J. ordered the drinks.

--Were you round at the court? says Joe.

--Yes, says J. J. He'll square that, Ned, says he.

--Hope so, says Ned.

Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury list
and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in Stubbs's.454
Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs455 with a swank glass in their
eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders.
Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street456 where no-one would
know him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his
boots out of the pop.457 What's your name, sir? Dunne, says he. Ay, and done
says I. Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross458 one of those days, I'm
thinking.

--Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p: up.

--Yes, says J. J. Looking for a private detective.

--Ay, says Ned. And he wanted right go wrong459 to address the court only
Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined
first.

--Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. God, I'd give anything to hear
him before a judge and jury.

--Was it you did it, Alf? says Joe. The truth, the whole truth and nothing
but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.460

--Me? says Alf. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.

--Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence
against you.461

--Of course an action would lie, says J. J. It implies that he is not compos
mentis.462 U. p: up.

--Compos your eye! says Alf, laughing. Do you know that he's balmy? Look
at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on
with a shoehorn.

--Yes, says J. J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment
for publishing it in the eyes of the law.

--Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.

--Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife.

--Pity about her, says the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half and half.463

--How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he . . .

--Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fellow that's neither fish nor flesh.

--Nor good red herring, says Joe.

--That what's I mean, says the citizen. A pishogue,464 if you know what that
is.

Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on
account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stut-
tering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody povertystricken
Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain.465
And she with her nose cockahoop466 after she married him because a cousin
of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. Picture of him on the wall
with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches,467 the signior Brini468 from Summer-
hill,469 the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father,470 has left the quay
and gone to Moss street.471 And who was he, tell us? A nobody, two pair
back and passages,472 at seven shillings a week, and he covered with all
kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world.

--And moreover, says J. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to be
sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole.473 In my o-
pinion an action might lie.

Six and eightpence, please.474 Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our pints
in peace. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.

--Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.

--Good health, Ned, says J. J.

---There he is again, says Joe.

--Where? says Alf.

And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter
and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in
as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a
secondhand coffin.

--How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe.

--Remanded, says J. J.

One of the bottlenosed fraternity475 it was went by the name of James Wought
alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a
passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see any green in the white
of my eye?476 Course it was a bloody barney.477 What? Swindled them all,
skivvies478 and badhachs479 from the county Meath,480 ay, and his own kid-
ney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or some-
thing weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, swearing by the holy
Moses he was stuck for two quid.481

--Who tried the case? says Joe.

--Recorder,482 says Ned.

--Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes.

--Heart as big as a lion, says Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears of
rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he'll dissolve in tears
on the bench.

--Ay, says Alf. Reuben J483 was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the dock
the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the
corporation there near Butt bridge.484

And he starts taking off the old recorder letting on to cry:

--A most scandalous thing! This poor hardworking man! How many children?
Ten, did you say?

--Yes, your worship. And my wife has the typhoid.

--And the wife with typhoid fever! Scandalous! Leave the court immediat-
ely, sir. No, sir, I'll make no order for payment. How dare you, sir, come up
before me and ask me to make an order! A poor hardworking industrious man!
I dismiss the case.

And whereas on the sixteenth day of the month of the oxeyed goddess485 and 　　　PARODY
in the third week after the feastday of the Holy and Undivided Trinity,486 the
daughter of the skies, the virgin moon being then in her first quarter,487 it
came to pass that those learned judges repaired them to the halls of law.
There master Courtenay,488 sitting in his own chamber, gave his rede and
master Justice Andrews,489 sitting without a jury in the probate court, weighed
well and pondered the claim of the first chargeant upon the property in the
matter of the will propounded and final testamentary disposition in re the
real and personal estate of the late lamented Jacob Halliday,490 vintner,
deceased, versus Livingstone,491 an infant, of unsound mind, and another. And
to the solemn court of Green street492 there came sir Frederick the Falconer.
And he sat him there about the hour of five o'clock to administer the law of
the brehons493 at the commission for all that and those parts to be holden in
and for the county of the city of Dublin. And there sat with him the high sin-
hedrim494 of the twelve tribes of Iar,495 for every tribe one man, of the tribe
of Patrick496 and of the tribe of Hugh497 and of the tribe of Owen498 and of
the tribe of Conn499 and of the tribe of Oscar500 and of the tribe of Fergus501
and of the tribe of Finn502 and of the tribe of Dermot503 and of the tribe of
Cormac504 and of the tribe of Kevin505 and of the tribe of Caolte506 and of the
tribe of Ossian,507 there being in all twelve good men and true. And he conjured
them by Him who died on rood that they should well and truly try and true del-
iverance make in the issue joined between their sovereign lord the king and the
prisoner at the bar and true verdict give according to the evidence so help them
God and kiss the book. And they rose in their seats, those twelve of Iar, and
they swore by the name of Him Who is from everlasting that they would do His
rightwiseness. And straightway the minions of the law led forth from their
donjon keep one whom the sleuthhounds of justice had apprehended in
consequence of information received. And they shackled him hand and foot
and would take of him ne bail ne mainprise508 but preferred a charge against
him for he was a malefactor.

--Those are nice things, says the citizen, coming over here to Ireland filling
the country with bugs.

So Bloom lets on he heard nothing and he starts talking with Joe, telling him
he needn't trouble about that little matter till the first but if he would
just say a word to Mr Crawford. And so Joe swore high and holy by this and
by that he'd do the devil and all.509

--Because, you see, says Bloom, for an advertisement you must have repetition.
That's the whole secret.

--Rely on me, says Joe.

--Swindling the peasants, says the citizen, and the poor of Ireland. We want
no more strangers in our house.510

--O, I'm sure that will be all right, Hynes, says Bloom. It's just that Keyes,
you see.

--Consider that done, says Joe.

--Very kind of you, says Bloom.

--The strangers, says the citizen. Our own fault. We let them come in. We
brought them in. The adulteress and her paramour511 brought the Saxon rob-
bers512 here.

--Decree nisi,513 says J. J.

And Bloom letting on to be awfully deeply interested in nothing, a spider's
web in the corner behind the barrel, and the citizen scowling after him and
the old dog at his feet looking up to know who to bite and when.

--A dishonoured wife, says the citizen, that's what's the cause of all our
misfortunes.

--And here she is, says Alf, that was giggling over the Police Gazette514 with
Terry on the counter, in all her warpaint.

--Give us a squint at her, says I.

And what was it only one of the smutty yankee pictures Terry borrows off of
Corny Kelleher. Secrets for enlarging your private parts. Misconduct of so-
ciety belle. Norman W. Tupper, wealthy Chicago contractor, finds pretty but
faithless wife in lap of officer Taylor.515 Belle in her bloomers misconducting
herself, and her fancyman516 feeling for her tickles517 and Norman W. Tupper
bouncing in with his peashooter just in time to be late after she doing the
trick of the loop518 with officer Taylor.

--O jakers, Jenny,519 says Joe, how short your shirt is!

--There's hair,520 Joe, says I. Get a queer old tailend of corned beef off of
that one, what?

So anyhow in came John Wyse Nolan and Lenehan with him with a face on him
as long as a late breakfast.

--Well, says the citizen, what's the latest from the scene of action? What did
those tinkers521 in the city hall at their caucus meeting decide about the Irish
language?

O'Nolan, clad in shining armour, low bending made obeisance to the 　　　　　　　　　PARODY
puissant and high and mighty chief of all Erin and did him to wit of that
which had befallen, how that the grave elders of the most obedient city,
second of the realm, had met them in the tholsel,522 and there, after due
prayers to the gods who dwell in ether supernal, had taken solemn counsel
whereby they might, if so be it might be, bring once more into honour
among mortal men the winged speech of the seadivided Gael.523

--It's on the march, says the citizen. To hell with the bloody brutal
Sassenachs524 and their patois.

So J. J. puts in a word, doing the toff525 about one story was good till
you heard another and blinking facts and the Nelson policy, putting your
blind eye to the telescope526 and drawing up a bill of attainder to impeach
a nation,527 and Bloom trying to back him up moderation and botheration and
their colonies and their civilisation.

--Their syphilisation, you mean, says the citizen. To hell with them! The
curse of a goodfornothing God light sideways on the bloody thicklugged528
sons of whores' gets! No music and no art and no literature worthy of the
name. Any civilisation they have they stole from us. Tonguetied sons of
bastards' ghosts.

--The European family, says J. J. . . .

--They're not European, says the citizen. I was in Europe with Kevin Egan
of Paris. You wouldn't see a trace of them or their language anywhere in
Europe except in a cabinet d'aisance.529

And says John Wyse:

--Full many a flower is born to blush unseen.530

And says Lenehan that knows a bit of the lingo:

--Conspuez les anglais! Perfide albion!531

He said and then lifted he in his rude great brawny strengthy hands the 　　　　 　PARODY
medher532 of dark strong foamy ale and, uttering his tribal slogan Lamh Dearg
Abu,533 he drank to the undoing of his foes, a race of mighty valorous heroes,
rulers of the waves,534 who sit on thrones of alabaster silent as the death-
less gods.535

--What's up with you, says I to Lenehan. You look like a fellow that had
lost a bob and found a tanner.536

--Gold cup,537 says he.

--Who won, Mr Lenehan? says Terry.

--Throwaway, says he, at twenty to one. A rank outsider. And the rest nowhere.538

--And Bass's mare?539 says Terry.

--Still running, says he. We're all in a cart. Boylan plunged two quid on my
tip Sceptre for himself and a lady friend.

--I had half a crown myself, says Terry, on Zinfandel that Mr Flynn gave me.
Lord Howard de Walden's.540

--Twenty to one, says Lenehan. Such is life in an outhouse. Throwaway, says
he. Takes the biscuit,541 and talking about bunions. Frailty, thy name is Scept-
re.542

So he went over to the biscuit tin Bob Doran left to see if there was any-
thing he could lift on the nod,543 the old cur after him backing his luck with
his mangy snout up. Old Mother Hubbard went to the cupboard.544

--Not there, my child, says he.

--Keep your pecker545 up, says Joe. She'd have won the money only for the other
dog.546

And J. J. and the citizen arguing about law and history with Bloom sticking
in an odd word.

--Some people, says Bloom, can see the mote in others' eyes but they can't
see the beam in their own.547

--Raimeis,548 says the citizen. There's no-one as blind as the fellow that won't
see, if you know what that means. Where are our missing twenty millions of
Irish should be here today instead of four,549 our lost tribes?550 And our potter-
ies and textiles, the finest in the whole world! And our wool that was sold
in Rome in the time of Juvenal551 and our flax and our damask from the looms
of Antrim552 and our Limerick lace,553 our tanneries and our white flint glass
down there by Ballybough554 and our Huguenot poplin555 that we have since
Jacquard de Lyon556 and our woven silk557 and our Foxford tweeds558 and ivory
raised point from the Carmelite convent in New Ross,559 nothing like it in the
whole wide world. Where are the Greek merchants that came through the pillars
of Hercules, the Gibraltar now grabbed by the foe of mankind, with gold and Tyr-
ian purple to sell in Wexford at the fair of Carmen?560 Read Tacitus561 and Ptol-
emy,562 even Giraldus Cambrensis.563 Wine, peltries, Connemara marble,564 silver
from Tipperary,565 second to none, our farfamed horses even today, the Irish
hobbies,566 with king Philip of Spain offering to pay customs duties for the right to
fish in our waters.567 What do the yellowjohns568 of Anglia owe us for our ruined
trade and our ruined hearths? And the beds of the Barrow and Shannon they
won't deepen with millions of acres of marsh and bog569 to make us all die of
consumption?

--As treeless as Portugal we'll be soon, says John Wyse, or Heligoland with its
one tree if something is not done to reafforest the land. Larches, firs, all
the trees of the conifer family are going fast.570 I was reading a report of lord
Castletown's . . .571

--Save them, says the citizen, the giant ash of Galway572 and the chieftain elm
of Kildare with a fortyfoot bole and an acre of foliage.573 Save the trees of
Ireland for the future men of Ireland on the fair hills of Eire, O.574

--Europe has its eyes on you, says Lenehan.

The fashionable international world attended En masse this afternoon at 　　　　　 PARODY
the wedding of the chevalier Jean Wyse de Neaulan,575 grand high chief
ranger of the Irish National Foresters,576 with Miss Fir Conifer of Pine
Valley.577 Lady Sylvester Elmshade,578 Mrs Barbara Lovebirch,579 Mrs Poll
Ash,580 Mrs Holly Hazeleyes,581 Miss Daphne Bays,582 Miss Dorothy Cane-
brake,583 Mrs Clyde Twelvetrees,584 Mrs Rowan Greene,585 Mrs Helen Vine-
gadding,586 Miss Virginia Creeper,587 Miss Gladys Beech,588 Miss Olive Garth,589
Miss Blanche Maple,590 Mrs Maud Mahogany,591 Miss Myra Myrtle,592 Miss
Priscilla Elderflower,593 Miss Bee Honeysuckle,594 Miss Grace Poplar,595 Miss
O Mimosa San,596 Miss Rachel Cedarfrond,597 the Misses Lilian and Viola Lilac,598
Miss Timidity Aspenall,599 Mrs Kitty Dewey-Mosse,600 Miss May Hawthorne,601
Mrs Gloriana Palme,602 Mrs Liana Forrest,603 Mrs Arabella Blackwood604 and
Mrs Norma Holyoake of Oakholme Regis605 graced the ceremony by their pre-
sence. The bride who was given away by her father, the M'Conifer of the
Glands,606 looked exquisitely charming in a creation carried out in green mer-
cerised silk, moulded on an underslip of gloaming grey, sashed with a yoke of
broad emerald and finished with a triple flounce of darkerhued fringe, the
scheme being relieved by bretelles607 and hip insertions of acorn bronze.
The maids of honour, Miss Larch Conifer and Miss Spruce608 Conifer, sisters
of the bride, wore very becoming costumes in the same tone, a dainty motif
of plume rose being worked into the pleats in a pinstripe and repeated capri-
ciously in the jadegreen toques in the form of heron feathers609 of paletinted
coral. Senhor Enrique Flor610 presided at the organ with his wellknown ability
and, in addition to the prescribed numbers of the nuptial mass, played a new
and striking arrangement of Woodman, spare that tree611 at the conclusion
of the service. On leaving the church of Saint Fiacre in Horto612 after the
papal blessing613 the happy pair were subjected to a playful crossfire of haz-
elnuts,614 beechmast,615 bayleaves,616 catkins of willow,617 ivytod,618 holly-
berries,619 mistletoe sprigs620 and quicken shoots.621 Mr and Mrs Wyse
Conifer Neaulan will spend a quiet honeymoon in the Black Forest.622

--And our eyes are on Europe, says the citizen. We had our trade with
Spain and the French and with the Flemings before those mongrels were
pupped,623 Spanish ale in Galway,624 the winebark on the winedark waterway.

--And will again, says Joe.

--And with the help of the holy mother of God we will again, says the cit-
izen, clapping his thigh. our harbours that are empty will be full again, Queens-
town, Kinsale, Galway, Blacksod Bay, Ventry in the kingdom of Kerry, Killybegs,
the third largest harbour in the wide world625 with a fleet of masts of the Gal-
way Lynches626 and the Cavan O'Reillys627 and the O'Kennedys of Dublin628
when the earl of Desmond could make a treaty withthe emperor Charles the
Fifth himself.629 And will again, says he, when the first Irish battleship
is seen breasting the waves with our own flag to the fore, none of your
Henry Tudor's harps,630 no, the oldest flag afloat, the flag of the province
of Desmond and Thomond, three crowns on a blue field, the three sons of
Milesius.631

And he took the last swig out of the pint. Moya.632 All wind and piss like a
tanyard cat.633 Cows in Connacht have long horns.634 As much as his bloody life
is worth to go down and address his tall talk to the assembled multitude in Shan-
agolden635 where he daren't show his nose with the Molly Maguires636 looking
for him to let daylight through him for grabbing the holding of an evicted tenant.637

--Hear, hear to that, says John Wyse. What will you have?

--An imperial yeomanry, says Lenehan, to celebrate the occasion.638

--Half one, Terry, says John Wyse, and a hands up.639 Terry! Are you asleep?

--Yes, sir, says Terry. Small whisky and bottle of Allsop. Right, sir.

Hanging over the bloody paper with Alf looking for spicy bits instead of
attending to the general public. Picture of a butting match, trying to crack
their bloody skulls, one chap going for the other with his head down like a
bull at a gate. And another one: Black Beast Burned in Omaha, Ga.640 A lot
of Deadwood Dicks641 in slouch hats and they firing at a Sambo642 strung
up in a tree with his tongue out and a bonfire under him. Gob, they ought to
drown him in the sea after and electrocute and crucify him to make sure of
their job.

--But what about the fighting navy, says Ned, that keeps our foes at bay?643

--I'll tell you what about it, says the citizen. Hell upon earth it is. Read
the revelations that's going on in the papers about flogging on the training
ships at Portsmouth. A fellow writes that calls himself Disgusted One.644

So he starts telling us about corporal punishment and about the crew
of tars and officers and rearadmirals drawn up in cocked hats and the
parson with his protestant bible to witness punishment and a young lad
brought out, howling for his ma, and they tie him down on the buttend of
a gun.

--A rump and dozen,645 says the citizen, was what that old ruffian sir John
Beresford646 called it but the modern God's Englishman calls it caning on
the breech.

And says John Wyse:

--'Tis a custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.647

Then he was telling us the master at arms comes along with a long cane and
he draws out and he flogs the bloody backside off of the poor lad till he
yells meila648 murder.

--That's your glorious British navy, says the citizen, that bosses the earth.
The fellows that never will be slaves,649 with the only hereditary chamber650 on
the face of God's earth and their land in the hands of a dozen gamehogs and
cottonball651 barons. That's the great empire they boast about of drudges and
whipped serfs.

--On which the sun never rises, says Joe.

--And the tragedy of it is, says the citizen, they believe it. The unfortunate
yahoos652 believe it.

They believe in rod, the scourger almighty, creator of hell upon earth, and 　　　　PARODY
in Jacky Tar, the son of a gun, who was conceived of unholy boast, born of
the fighting navy, suffered under rump and dozen, was scarified,flayed and
curried, yelled like bloody hell, the third day he arose again from the bed,
steered into haven, sitteth on his beamend till further orders whence he
shall come to drudge for a living and be paid.

--But, says Bloom, isn't discipline the same everywhere. I mean wouldn't it
be the same here if you put force against force?

Didn't I tell you? As true as I'm drinking this porter if he was at his last
gasp he'd try to downface you that dying was living.

--We'll put force against force, says the citizen. We have our greater Ire-
land beyond the sea.653 They were driven out of house and home in the black
47.654 Their mudcabins and their shielings655 by the roadside were laid low by
the batteringram656 and the Times rubbed its hands and told the whitelivered
Saxons there would soon be as few Irish in Ireland as redskins in America.657
Even the Grand Turk sent us his piastres.658 But the Sassenach tried to starve
the nation at home while the land was full of crops that the British hyenas
bought and sold in Rio de Janeiro.659 Ay, they drove out the peasants in hordes.
Twenty thousand of them died in the coffinships.660 But those that came to the
land of the free remember the land of bondage661. And they will come again and
with a vengeance, no cravens, the sons of Granuaile,662 the champions of Kath-
leen ni Houlihan.663

--Perfectly true, says Bloom. But my point was . . .

--We are a long time waiting for that day, citizen, says Ned. Since the poor
old woman told us that the French were on the sea664 and landed at Killala.665

--Ay, says John Wyse. We fought for the royal Stuarts that reneged us a-
gainst the Williamites and they betrayed us.666 Remember Limerick and the
broken treatystone.667 We gave our best blood to France and Spain, the wild
geese.668 Fontenoy,669 eh? And Sarsfield670 and O'Donnell, duke of Tetuan in
Spain,671 and Ulysses Browne of Camus that was fieldmarshal to Maria
Teresa. But what did we ever get for it?

--The French! says the citizen. Set of dancing masters! Do you know what it
is? They were never worth a roasted fart to Ireland. Aren't they trying to
make an Entente cordiale now at Tay Pay's dinnerparty with perfidious Albi-
on? Firebrands of Europe and they always were.

--Conspuez les francais, says Lenehan, nobbling his beer.

--And as for the Prooshians and the Hanoverians, says Joe, haven't we had
enough of those sausageeating bastards on the throne from George the
elector down to the German lad and the flatulent old bitch that's dead?

Jesus, I had to laugh at the way he came out with that about the old one
with the winkers on her, blind drunk in her royal palace every night of
God, old Vic, with her jorum of mountain dew and her coachman carting
her up body and bones to roll into bed and she pulling him by the whisk-
ers and singing him old bits of songs about Ehren on the Rhine and come
where the boose is cheaper.

--Well, says J. J. We have Edward the peacemaker now.

--Tell that to a fool, says the citizen. There's a bloody sight more pox
than pax about that boyo. Edward Guelph-Wettin!

--And what do you think, says Joe, of the holy boys, the priests and bishops
of Ireland doing up his room in Maynooth in His Satanic Majesty's racing
colours and sticking up pictures of all the horses his jockeys rode.672 The earl
of Dublin,673 no less.

--They ought to have stuck up all the women he rode674 himself, says little Alf.

And says J. J.:

--Considerations of space influenced their lordships' decision.

--Will you try another, citizen? says Joe.

--Yes, sir, says he. I will.

--You? says Joe.

--Beholden to you, Joe, says I. May your shadow never grow less.675

--Repeat that dose, says Joe.

Bloom was talking and talking with John Wyse and he quite excited with
his dunducketymudcoloured676 mug on him and his old plumeyes rolling
about.

--Persecution, says he, all the history of the world is full of it.
Perpetuating national hatred among nations.

--But do you know what a nation means? says John Wyse.

--Yes, says Bloom.

--What is it? says John Wyse.

--A nation? says Bloom. A nation is the same people living in the same place.

--By God, then, says Ned, laughing, if that's so I'm a nation for I'm living in
the same place for the past five years.

So of course everyone had the laugh at Bloom and says he, trying to muck out of
it:

--Or also living in different places.

--That covers my case, says Joe.

--What is your nation if I may ask? says the citizen.

--Ireland, says Bloom. I was born here. Ireland.677

The citizen said nothing only cleared the spit out of his gullet and, gob, he
spat a Red bank oyster678 out of him right in the corner.

--After you with the push, Joe, says he, taking out his handkerchief to swab
himself dry.

--Here you are, citizen, says Joe. Take that in your right hand and repeat after
me the following words.

The muchtreasured and intricately embroidered ancient Irish facecloth attribu- PARODY
ted to Solomon of Droma and Manus Tomaltach og MacDonogh, authors of
the Book of Ballymote,679 was then carefully produced and called forth pro-
longed admiration. No need to dwell on the legendary beauty of the corner-
pieces, the acme of art, wherein one can distinctly discern each of the four
evangelists in turn presenting to each of the four masters his evangelical sym-
bol, a bogoak sceptre, a North American puma (a far nobler king of beasts than
the British article, be it said in passing), a Kerry calf and a golden eagle from
Carrantuohill.680 The scenes depicted on the emunctory681 field, showing our
ancient duns682 and raths683 and cromlechs684 and grianauns685 and seats of
learning686 and maledictive stones,687 are as wonderfully beautiful and the
pigments as delicate as when the Sligo illuminators688 gave free rein to their
artistic fantasy long long ago in the time of the Barmecides.689 Glendalough,690
the lovely lakes of Killarney,691 the ruins of Clonmacnois,692 Cong Abbey,693
Glen Inagh and the Twelve Pins,694 Ireland's Eye,695 the Green Hills of Tallaght,696
Croagh Patrick,697 the brewery of Messrs Arthur Guinness, Son and Company
(Limited),697 Lough Neagh's banks,698 the vale of Ovoca,699 Isolde's tower,700
the Mapas obelisk,701 Sir Patrick Dun's hospital,702 Cape Clear,703 the glen of
Aherlow,704 Lynch's castle, the Scotch house, Rathdown Union Workhouse at
Loughlinstown,705 Tullamore jail,706 Castleconnel rapids,707 Kilballymacshonakill,708
the cross at Monasterboice,709 Jury's Hotel,710 S. Patrick's Purgatory,711 the
Salmon Leap,712 Maynooth college refectory,713 Curley's hole,714 the three
birthplaces of the first duke of Wellington,715 the rock of Cashel,716 the bog
of Allen,717 the Henry Street Warehouse, Fingal's Cave --all these moving
scenes are still there for us today rendered more beautiful still by the
waters of sorrow which have passed over them and by the rich incrustations
of time.

--Show us over the drink,718 says I. Which is which?

--That's mine, says Joe, as the devil said to the dead policeman.

--And I belong to a race too, says Bloom, that is hated and persecuted. Also
now. This very moment. This very instant.

Gob, he near burnt his fingers with the butt of his old cigar.

--Robbed, says he. Plundered. Insulted. Persecuted. Taking what belongs
to us by right. At this very moment, says he, putting up his fist, sold by
auction in Morocco like slaves or cattle.719

--Are you talking about the new Jerusalem?720 says the citizen.

--I'm talking about injustice, says Bloom.

--Right, says John Wyse. Stand up to it then with force like men.

That's an almanac picture for you. Mark for a softnosed bullet.721 Old
lardyface standing up to the business end of a gun. Gob, he'd adorn a
sweepingbrush, so he would, if he only had a nurse's apron on him. And
then he collapses all of a sudden, twisting around all the opposite, as
limp as a wet rag.

--But it's no use, says he. Force, hatred, history, all that. That's not life
for men and women, insult and hatred. And everybody knows that it's the very
opposite of that that is really life.

--What? says Alf.

--Love, says Bloom. I mean the opposite of hatred.722 I must go now, says he
to John Wyse. Just round to the court723 a moment to see if Martin is there. If
he comes just say I'll be back in a second. Just a moment.

Who's hindering you? And off he pops like greased lightning.

--A new apostle to the gentiles,724 says the citizen. Universal love.

--Well, says John Wyse. Isn't that what we're told. Love your neighbour.725

--That chap? says the citizen. Beggar my neighbour is his motto. Love, moya!
He's a nice pattern of a Romeo and Juliet.

Love loves to love love.726 Nurse loves the new chemist. Constable 14A loves　　PARODY
Mary Kelly.727 Gerty MacDowell loves the boy that has the bicycle. M. B. loves
a fair gentleman. Li Chi Han lovey up kissy Cha Pu Chow.728 Jumbo, the elephant,
loves Alice, the elephant. Old Mr Verschoyle with the ear trumpet loves old
Mrs Verschoyle with the turnedin eye. The man in the brown macintosh loves
a lady who is dead.729 His Majesty the King loves Her Majesty the Queen. Mrs
Norman W. Tupper loves officer Taylor. You love a certain person. And this
person loves that other person because everybody loves somebody but God
loves everybody.

--Well, Joe, says I, your very good health and song. More power, citizen.

--Hurrah, there, says Joe.

--The blessing of God and Mary and Patrick on you, says the citizen.

And he ups with his pint to wet his whistle.

--We know those canters,730 says he, preaching and picking your pocket.
What about sanctimonious Cromwell and his ironsides that put the women
and children of Drogheda to the sword with the bible text God is love pasted
round the mouth of his cannon?731 The bible! Did you read that skit in the
United irishman today about that Zulu chief that's visiting England?732

--What's that? says Joe.

So the citizen takes up one of his paraphernalia papers and he starts
reading out:

--A delegation of the chief cotton magnates of Manchester was presented
yesterday to His Majesty the Alaki of Abeakuta733 by Gold Stick in Waiting,
Lord Walkup of Walkup on Eggs,734 to tender to His Majesty the heartfelt
thanks of British traders for the facilities afforded them in his dominions.
The delegation partook of luncheon at the conclusion of which the dusky
potentate, in the course of a happy speech, freely translated by the British
chaplain, the reverend Ananias Praisegod Barebones,735 tendered his best thanks
to Massa Walkup and emphasised the cordial relations existing between Abe-
akuta and the British empire, stating that he treasured as one of his dear-
est possessions an illuminated bible, the volume of the word of God and
the secret of England's greatness, graciously presented to him by the white
chief woman, the great squaw Victoria,736 with a personal dedication from
the august hand of the Royal Donor. The Alaki then drank a lovingcup of
firstshot usquebaugh to the toast Black and white737 from the skull of his
immediate predecessor in the dynasty Kakachakachak,738 surnamed Forty
Warts, after which he visited the chief factory of Cottonopolis739 and
signed his mark in the visitors' book, subsequently executing a charm-
ing old Abeakutic wardance, in the course of which he swallowed several
knives and forks, amid hilarious applause from the girl hands.

--Widow woman, says Ned. I wouldn't doubt her. Wonder did he put that
bible to the same use as I would.740

--Same only more so, says Lenehan. And thereafter in that fruitful land
the broadleaved mango flourished exceedingly.

--Is that by Griffith? says John Wyse.

--No, says the citizen. It's not signed Shanganagh. It's only initialled: P.741

--And a very good initial too, says Joe.

--That's how it's worked, says the citizen. Trade follows the flag.

--Well, says J. J., if they're any worse than those Belgians in the Congo
Free State they must be bad. Did you read that report by a man what's this
his name is?

--Casement, says the citizen. He's an Irishman.742

--Yes, that's the man, says J. J. Raping the women and girls and flogging
the natives on the belly to squeeze all the red rubber they can out of them.

--I know where he's gone, says Lenehan, cracking his fingers.

--Who? says I.

--Bloom, says he. The courthouse is a blind. He had a few bob on Throwaway
and he's gone to gather in the shekels.

--Is it that whiteeyed kaffir?743 says the citizen, that never backed a horse
in anger in his life?

--That's where he's gone, says Lenehan. I met Bantam Lyons going to back
that horse only I put him off it and he told me Bloom gave him the tip. Bet
you what you like he has a hundred shillings to five on. He's the only man
in Dublin has it. A dark horse.

--He's a bloody dark horse himself, says Joe.

--Mind, Joe, says I. Show us the entrance out.744

--There you are, says Terry.

Goodbye Ireland I'm going to Gort.745 So I just went round the back of the
yard to pumpship and begob (hundred shillings to five) while I was letting
off my (Throwaway twenty to) letting off my load gob says I to myself I
knew he was uneasy in his (two pints off of Joe and one in Slattery's746
off) in his mind to get off the mark to (hundred shillings is five quid) and
when they were in the (dark horse) pisser Burke was telling me card party
and letting on the child was sick (gob, must have done about a gallon)
flabbyarse of a wife speaking down the tube747 she's better or she's (ow!)
all a plan so he could vamoose with the pool if he won or (Jesus, full
up I was) trading without a licence (ow!) Ireland my nation says he (hoik!
phthook!) never be up to those bloody (there's the last of it) Jerusalem
(ah!)748 cuckoos.749

So anyhow when I got back they were at it dingdong, John Wyse saying it
was Bloom gave the ideas for Sinn Fein to Griffith to put in his paper all
kinds of jerrymandering, packed juries and swindling the taxes off of the
government and appointing consuls all over the world to walk about selling
Irish industries.750 Robbing Peter to pay Paul. Gob, that puts the bloody
kybosh on it if old sloppy eyes is mucking up the show. Give us a bloody
chance. God save Ireland from the likes of that bloody mouseabout. Mr
Bloom with his argol bargol.751 And his old fellow before him perpetrating
frauds, old Methusalem Bloom, the robbing bagman,752 that poisoned himself
with the prussic acid753 after he swamping the country with his baubles and
his penny diamonds. Loans by post on easy terms. Any amount of money
advanced on note of hand. Distance no object. No security. Gob, he's like
Lanty MacHale's goat that'd go a piece of the road with every one.754

--Well, it's a fact, says John Wyse. And there's the man now that'll tell
you all about it, Martin Cunningham.

Sure enough the castle car drove up with Martin on it and Jack Power with
him and a fellow named Crofter or Crofton,755 pensioner out of the collector
general's, an orangeman Blackburn does have on the registration756 and he
drawing his pay or Crawford gallivanting around the country at the king's
expense.

Our travellers reached the rustic hostelry and alighted from their pal-　　　　 　　　PARODY
freys.

--Ho, varlet! cried he, who by his mien seemed the leader of the party.
Saucy knave! To us!

So saying he knocked loudly with his swordhilt upon the open lattice.

Mine host came forth at the summons, girding him with his tabard.

--Give you good den,757 my masters, said he with an obsequious bow.

--Bestir thyself, sirrah! cried he who had knocked. Look to our steeds.
And for ourselves give us of your best for ifaith we need it.

--Lackaday, good masters, said the host, my poor house has but a bare
larder. I know not what to offer your lordships.

--How now, fellow? cried the second of the party, a man of pleasant count-
enance, So servest thou the king's messengers, master Taptun?758

An instantaneous change overspread the landlord's visage.

--Cry you mercy, gentlemen, he said humbly. An you be the king's messen-
gers (God shield His Majesty!) you shall not want for aught. The king's
friends (God bless His Majesty!) shall not go afasting in my house I
warrant me.

--Then about! cried the traveller who had not spoken, a lusty trencherman
by his aspect. Hast aught to give us?

Mine host bowed again as he made answer:

--What say you, good masters, to a squab pigeon pasty, some collops of
venison, a saddle of veal, widgeon with crisp hog's bacon, a boar's head
with pistachios, a bason759 of jolly custard, a medlar tansy760 and a flagon
of old Rhenish?

--Gadzooks! cried the last speaker. That likes me well. Pistachios!

--Aha! cried he of the pleasant countenance. A poor house and a bare larder,
quotha! 'Tis a merry rogue.

So in comes Martin asking where was Bloom.

--Where is he? says Lenehan. Defrauding widows and orphans.

--Isn't that a fact, says John Wyse, what I was telling the citizen about
Bloom and the Sinn Fein?761

--That's so, says Martin. Or so they allege.

--Who made those allegations? says Alf.

--I, says Joe. I'm the alligator.

--And after all, says John Wyse, why can't a jew love his country like the
next fellow?

--Why not? says J. J., when he's quite sure which country it is.

--Is he a jew or a gentile or a holy Roman or a swaddler762 or what the hell
is he? says Ned. Or who is he? No offence, Crofton.

--Who is Junius?763 says J. J.

--We don't want him, says Crofter the Orangeman or presbyterian.

--He's a perverted jew, says Martin, from a place in Hungary and it was he
drew up all the plans according to the Hungarian system.764 We know that in
the castle.

--Isn't he a cousin of Bloom the dentist?765 says Jack Power.

--Not at all, says Martin. Only namesakes. His name was Virag,766 the fa-
ther's name that poisoned himself. He changed it by deedpoll, the father
did.

--That's the new Messiah for Ireland! says the citizen. Island of saints
and sages!767

--Well, they're still waiting for their redeemer, says Martin. For that
matter so are we.

--Yes, says J. J., and every male that's born they think it may be their
Messiah. And every jew is in a tall state of excitement, I believe, till
he knows if he's a father or a mother.768

--Expecting every moment will be his next, says Lenehan.

--O, by God, says Ned, you should have seen Bloom before that son of his
that died was born. I met him one day in the south city markets769 buying a
tin of Neave's food770 six weeks before the wife was delivered.

--En ventre sa mere,771 says J. J.

--Do you call that a man? says the citizen.

--I wonder did he ever put it out of sight, says Joe.

--Well, there were two children born anyhow, says Jack Power.

--And who does he suspect?772 says the citizen.

Gob, there's many a true word spoken in jest. One of those mixed middlings773
he is. Lying up in the hotel Pisser was telling me once a month with head-
ache like a totty with her courses.774 Do you know what I'm telling you? It'd
be an act of God to take a hold of a fellow the like of that and throw him
in the bloody sea. Justifiable homicide, so it would. Then sloping775 off with
his five quid without putting up a pint of stuff like a man. Give us your
blessing. Not as much as would blind your eye.

--Charity to the neighbour, says Martin. But where is he? We can't wait.

--A wolf in sheep's clothing,776 says the citizen. That's what he is. Virag
from Hungary! Ahasuerus I call him. Cursed by God.777

--Have you time for a brief libation, Martin? says Ned.

--Only one, says Martin. We must be quick. J. J. and S.

--You, Jack? Crofton? Three half ones, Terry.

--Saint Patrick would want to land again at Ballykinlar778 and convert us, says
the citizen, after allowing things like that to contaminate our shores.

--Well, says Martin, rapping for his glass. God bless all here is my prayer.

--Amen, says the citizen.

--And I'm sure He will, says Joe.

And at the sound of the sacring bell,779 headed by a crucifer780 with aco 　　　 PARODY
-lytes, thurifers,781 boatbearers,782 readers,783 ostiarii,784 deacons and
subdeacons, the blessed company drew nigh of mitred abbots and priors
and guardians and monks and friars: the monks of Benedict of Spoleto,785
Carthusians786 and Camaldolesi,787 Cistercians788 and Olivetans,789 Ora-
torians790 and Vallombrosans,791 and the friars of Augustine,792 Brigittines,793
Premonstratensians,794 Servi,795 Trinitarians,796 and the children of Peter
Nolasco:797 and therewith from Carmel mount the children of Elijah prophet
led by Albert bishop and by Teresa of Avila, calced and other:798 and friars,
brown and grey,799 sons of poor Francis,800 capuchins,801 cordeliers,
minimes802 and observants803 and the daughters of Clara:804 and the sons
of Dominic, the friars preachers,805 and the sons of Vincent:806 and the
monks of S. Wolstan:807 and Ignatius his children:808 and the confraternity
of the christian brothers led by the reverend brother Edmund Ignatius Rice.809
And after came all saints and martyrs, virgins and confessors: S. Cyr810 and
S. Isidore Arator811 and S. James the Less812 and S. Phocas of Sinope813
and S. Julian Hospitator814 and S. Felix de Cantalice815 and S. Simon Stylites816
and S. Stephen Protomartyr817 and S. John of God818 and S. Ferreol819 and
S. Leugarde820 and S. Theodotus821 and S. Vulmar822 and S. Richard823 and
S. Vincent de Paul824 and S. Martin of Todi825 and S. Martin of Tours826 and
S. Alfred827 and S. Joseph828 and S. Denis829 and S. Cornelius830 and S.
Leopold831 and S. Bernard832 and S. Terence833 and S. Edward834 and S.
Owen Caniculus835 and S. Anonymous and S. Eponymous and S. Pseudo-
nymous and S. Homonymous and S. Paronymous836 and S. Synonymous and
S. Laurence O'Toole837 and S. James of Dingle and Compostella838 and S.
Columcille and S. Columba839 and S. Celestine840 and S. Colman841 and S.
Kevin842 and S. Brendan843 and S. Frigidian844 and S. Senan845 and S. Fach-
tna846 and S. Columbanus847 and S. Gall848 and S. Fursey849 and S. Fintan850
and S. Fiacre851 and S. John Nepomuc852 and S. Thomas Aquinas853 and S.
Ives of Brittany854 and S. Michan855 and S. Herman-Joseph856 and the
three patrons of holy youth857 S. Aloysius Gonzaga858 and S. Stanislaus
Kostka859 and S. John Berchmans860 and the saints Gervasius,861 Serva-
sius862 and Bonifacius863 and S. Bride864 and S. Kieran865 and S. Canice
of Kilkenny866 and S. Jarlath of Tuam867 and S. Finbarr868 and S. Pappin
of Ballymun869 and Brother Aloysius Pacificus870 and Brother Louis Bel-
licosus871 and the saints Rose of Lima872 and of Viterbo873 and S. Martha
of Bethany874 and S. Mary of Egypt875 and S. Lucy876 and S. Brigid877 and
S. Attracta878 and S. Dympna879 and S. Ita880 and S. Marion Calpensis881
and the Blessed Sister Teresa of the Child Jesus882 and S. Barbara883 and
S. Scholastica884 and S. Ursula with eleven thousand virgins.885 And all came
with nimbi and aureoles and gloriae, bearing palms and harps and swords and
olive crowns, in robes whereon were woven the blessed symbols of their
efficacies, inkhorns,891 arrows, loaves, cruses, fetters, axes, trees, bridges,
babes in a bathtub, shells, wallets, shears, keys, dragons, lilies, buckshot,
beards, hogs, lamps,909 bellows, beehives, soupladles, stars, snakes, anvils,
boxes of vaseline, bells, crutches, forceps, stags' horns, watertight boots,
hawks, millstones, eyes on a dish, wax candles, aspergills, unicorns.927 And
as they wended their way by Nelson's Pillar, Henry street, Mary street, Capel
street, Little Britain street928 chanting the introit in Epiphania domini which
beginneth Surge, illuminare929 and thereafter most sweetly the gradual Omnes
which saith de Saba venient930 they did divers wonders such as casting out
devils, raising the dead to life, multiplying fishes, healing the halt and the
blind,931 discovering various articles which had been mislaid,932 interpreting
and fulfilling the scriptures,933 blessing and prophesying. And last, beneath a
canopy of cloth of gold934 came the reverend Father O'Flynn935 attended by
Malachi936 and Patrick.937 And when the good fathers had reached the appoint-
ed place, the house of Bernard Kiernan and Co, limited, 8, 9 and 10 little Britain
street, wholesale grocers, wine and brandy shippers, licensed for the sale of
beer, wine and spirits for consumption on the premises, the celebrant blessed
the house and censed the mullioned windows and the groynes and the vaults
and the arrises and the capitals and the pediments and the cornices and the
engrailed arches and the spires and the cupolas and sprinkled the lintels there-
of with blessed water938 and prayed that God might bless that house as he had
blessed the house of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and make the angels of His
light to inhabit therein.939 And entering he blessed the viands and the beverag-
es940 and the company of all the blessed answered his prayers.

--Adiutorium nostrum in nomine domini.

--Qui fecit coelum et terram.

--Dominus vobiscum.

--Et cum spiritu tuo.941

And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he prayed
and they all with him prayed:

--Deus, cuius verbo sanctificantur omnia, benedictionem tuam effunde super
creaturas istas: et praesta ut Quisquis eis secundum legem et voluntatem
tuam cum gratiarum actione usus fuerit per invocationem sanctissimi nomi-
nis Tui corporis sanitatem et animae tutelam te auctore percipiat per
christum dominum nostrum.942

--And so say all of us, says Jack.

--Thousand a year,943 Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford.

--Right, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson.944 And butter for fish.945

I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike when
be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a hurry.

--I was just round at the courthouse, says he, looking for you. I hope I'm not . . .

--No, says Martin, we're ready.

Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver. Mean
bloody scut.946 Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There's a jew for
you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to five.

--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen,

--Beg your pardon, says he.

--Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Come along now.

--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. It's a secret.

And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.

--Bye bye all, says Martin.

And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or whatever
you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all at sea and up
with them on the bloody jaunting car.947

---Off with you, says

Martin to the jarvey.

The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop the 　　　　 PARODY
helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward
with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew
nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble
bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when
he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each
one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and giveth
speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting948 or contend for
the smile of ladies fair. Even so did they come and set them, those willing
nymphs, the undying sisters. And they laughed, sporting in a circle of
their foam: and the bark clave the waves.

But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint949 when I saw the citizen
getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the dropsy, and
he cursing the curse of Cromwell950 on him, bell, book and candle951 in Irish,
spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round him like a
leprechaun trying to peacify him.

--Let me alone, says he.

And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he bawls out
of him:

--Three cheers for Israel!

Arrah,952 sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse953 for Christ'
sake and don't be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesus, there's al-
ways some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about bloody
nothing. Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it would.

And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and Martin
telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf and Joe
at him to whisht954 and he on his high horse about the jews and the loafers
calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him to sit down on the car
and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye starts singing
If the man in the moon was a jew, jew, jew 955 and a slut shouts out of her:

--Eh, mister! Your fly is open, mister!

And says he:

--Mendelssohn956 was a jew and Karl Marx957 and Mercadante958 and Spin-
oza.959 And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God.

--He had no father, says Martin. That'll do now. Drive ahead.

--Whose God? says the citizen.

--Well, his uncle was a jew, says he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a jew
like me.960

Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop.

--By Jesus, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy name.
By Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here.

--Stop! Stop! says Joe.

A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from the 　　　　　PARODY
metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid fare-
well to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag,961 late of Messrs Alexander Thom's,
printers to His Majesty,962 on the occasion of his departure for the dis-
tant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas963 (Meadow of Murmuring
Waters). The ceremony which went off with great eclat was characterised
by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll of ancient Irish
vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the distinguished phe-
nomenologist964 on behalf of a large section of the community and was
accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully executed in the style
of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects every credit on the
makers, Messrs Jacob agus Jacob.965 The departing guest was the re-
cipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present being visibly
moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the well-known
strains of Come back to Erin,966 followed immediately by Rakoczsy's March.967
Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four seas968
on the summits of the Hill of Howth,969 Three Rock Mountain,970 Sugar-
loaf,971 Bray Head,972 the mountains of Mourne,973 the Galtees,974 the
Ox975 and Donegal976 and Sperrin peaks,977 the Nagles and the Bograghs,978
the Connemara hills,979 the reeks of M Gillicuddy,980 Slieve Aughty,981
Slieve Bernagh982 and Slieve Bloom.983 Amid cheers that rent the welkin,
responded to by answering cheers from a big muster of henchmen on the
distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills,984 the mastodontic pleasureship
slowly moved away saluted by a final floral tribute from the representa-
tives of the fair sex who were present in large numbers while, as it pro-
ceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of barges, the flags of the
Ballast office985 and Custom House986 were dipped in salute as were
also those of the electrical power station at the Pigeonhouse987 and
the Poolbeg Light.988 Visszontlatasra, kedves baraton! Visszontlatasra! 989
Gone but not forgotten.

Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin any-
how and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he shout-
ing like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal
theatre:989

--Where is he till I murder him?

And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.

--Bloody wars, says I, i'll be in for the last gospel.990

But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the other
way and off with him.

--Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!

Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the
sun was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent it
into the county Longford.991 The bloody nag took fright and the old mongrel
after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing
and the old tinbox clattering along the street.

The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The obser- 　　　　　　PARODY
vatory of Dunsink992 registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth grade
of Mercalli's scale,993 and there is no record extant of a similar seismic
disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534,994 the year of the
rebellion of Silken Thomas.995 The epicentre appears to have been that part
of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay ward and parish of Saint
Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres, two roods and one square pole
or perch.996 All the lordly residences in the vicinity of the palace of justice997
were demolished and that noble edifice itself, in which at the time of the
catastrophe important legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of
ruins beneath which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried
alive. From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves
were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic charac-
ter. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much respect-
ed clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell998 and a silk umbrella
with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms and house
number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter sessions sir Fred-
erick Falkiner,999 recorder of Dublin, have been discovered by search parties
in remote parts of the island respectively, the former on the third basaltic
ridge of the giant's causeway,1000 the latter embedded to the extent of one
foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen bay near the old head of
Kinsale.1001 Other eyewitnesses depose that they observed an incandescent
object of enormous proportions hurtling through the atmosphere at a terrify-
ing velocity in a trajectory directed southwest by west. Messages of condo-
lence and sympathy are being hourly received from all parts of the different
continents and the sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree
that a special missa pro defunctis 1002 shall be celebrated simultaneously by
the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal dio-
ceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of the
souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called away
from our midst. The work of salvage, removal of debris, human remains etc
has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great Brunswick
street,1003 and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North Wall,1004
assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light infantry1005
under the general supervision of H. R. H., rear admiral, the right honourable
sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K. G., K. P., K. T., P. C.,
K. C. B., M. P, J. P., M. B., D. S. O., S. O. D., M. F. H., M. R. I. A.,
B. L., Mus. Doc., P. L. G., F. T. C. D., F. R. U. I., F. R. C. P. I. and
F. R. C. S. I.1006

You never saw the like of it in all your born puff.1007 Gob, if he got that lot-
tery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup, he would so,
but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault and battery and Joe
for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life by furious driving as sure
as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did. And he let a volley of oaths
after him.

--Did I kill him, says he, or what?

And he shouting to the bloody dog:

--After him, Garry! After him, boy!

And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old sheeps-
face on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his lugs back
for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb. Hundred to five!
Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise you.

When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the　　　　　PARODY
chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in the
chariot,1008 clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as
of the sun,1009 fair as the moon and terrible1010 that for awe they durst not
look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah! Elijah!1011
And He answered with a main cry: Abba! adonai!1012 And they beheld Him even
Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the bright-
ness1013 at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green
street1014 like a shot off a shovel.

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