 Section 32 of Ulysses. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Ulysses by James Joyce. Part 2. The Odyssey. Episode 13. Nausicaea. Part 5. On the other hand, a six-footer with a wifey up to his watch pocket, long and the short of it, big he and little she, very strange about my watch, wristwatches are always going wrong, wonder is there any magnetic influence between the person, because that was about the time he... Yes, I suppose, at once, cats away, the mice will play. I remember looking in the pill lane. Also, that now is magnetism. Back of everything, magnetism. Earth, for instance, pulling this and being pulled. That causes movement. And time. Well, that's the time the movement takes. Then if one thing stopped, the whole gazebo would stop bit by bit. Because it's all arranged. Magnetic Needle tells you what's going on in the sun, the stars. Little piece of steel iron. When you hold out the fork. Come, come. Tip. Woman and man, that is. Fork and steel. Molly. He. Dress up and look and suggest and let you see and see more. And defy you if you're a man to see that. And like a sneeze coming. Legs. Look. Look. And if you have any guts in you. Tip. Have to let fly. Wonder how is she feeling in that region. Shame all put on before third person. More put out about a hole in her stocking. Molly, her under jaw stuck out. Head back. About the farmer in the riding boots and spurs at the horse show. And when the painters were in Lombard Street West. Fine voice that fellow had. How jubile began. Smell that I did. Like flowers. It was too. Violence. Came from the turpentine probably in the paint. Make their own use of everything. Same time doing it. Scraped her slipper on the floor so they wouldn't hear. But lots of them can't kick the beam I think. Keep that thing up for hours. Kind of a general all round over me. Hmm. Yes. That's her perfume. Why she waved her hand. I leave you this to think of me when I'm far away on the pillow. What is it? Heliotrope? No. Hyacinth. Roses I think. She'd like scent of that kind. Sweet and cheap. Soon sour. Why Molly likes a pupanax. Suits her with a little jessamine mixed. Her high notes and her low notes. At the dance night she met him. Dance of the hours. He'd brought it out. She was wearing her black and it had the perfume of the time before. Good conductor is it? Or bad? Like two. Suppose there's some connection. For instance if you go into a cellar where it's dark. Mysterious thing too. Why did I smell it only now? Took its time in coming. Like herself. Slow but sure. Suppose it's ever so many millions of tiny grains blown across. Yes it is. Because those spice islands. Sing the leaves this morning. Smell them leaves off. Tell you what it is. It's like a fine, fine veil or web they have all over the skin. Fine. Like what do you call it? Gossamer. And they're always spinning it out of them. Fine as anything. Like rainbow colors without knowing it. Clings to everything she takes off. Vamp of her stockings. Warm shoe. Stays. Drawers. Little kick taking them off. Bye bye till next time. Also the cat likes to sniff in her shift on the bed. Know her smell in a thousand. Bathwater too. Reminds me of strawberries and cream. Wonder where it is really. There are the armpits or under the neck. Because you get it out of all holes and corners. Highest synth perfume made of oil of ether or something. Muscat. Bag under their tails. One grain pour off odor for years. Dogs at each other behind. Good evening. Evening. How do you sniff? Very well, thank you. Animals go by that. Yes, now look at it that way. We're the same. Some women, instance, warn you off when they have their period. Come near, then get a holgo you could hang your hat on. Like what? Hot and herring's gone stale. Or both. Please keep off the grass. Perhaps they get a man smell off us. What though? Cigari gloves Long John had on his desk the other day. Breath. What you eat and drink gives that. No. Man smell I mean. Must be connected with that because priests that are supposed to be are different. Women buzz round it like flies round treacle. Railed off the altar. Get on to it at any cost. The tree of forbidden priest. Oh, Father, will you let me be the first to. That diffuses itself all through the body. Permeate source of life. And it's extremely curious the smell. Celery sauce. Let me. Mr. Bloom inserted his nose. Hmm. Into the. Hmm. Opening of his waistcoat. All men's or. No. Lemons it is. Ah, no. That's the soap. Oh, by the by, that motion. I knew there was something on my mind. Never went back. And the soap not paid. Dislike carrying bottles like that hag this morning. Pines might have paid me that three shillings. I could mention Meegers just to remind him. Still, if he works that paragraph. Two and nine. Bad opinion of me he'll have. Call tomorrow. How much do I owe you? Three and nine? Two and nine, sir. Ah. Might stop him getting credit another time. Lose your customers that way. Pubs do. Fellows run up a bill on the slate and then slinking around the back streets into somewhere else. Here's this nobleman passed before. Blown in from the bay. Just went as far as turn back. Always at home at dinner time. Looks mangled out. Had a good tuck in. Enjoying nature now. Grace after meals. After supper. Walk a mile. Sure he has a small bank balance somewhere. Government sit. Walk after him now. Make him awkward. Like those news boys. Me today. Still you learn something. See ourselves as others see us. So long as women don't mock what matter. That's the way to find out. Ask yourself, who is he now? The mystery man on the beach. Prize tit-bit story by Mr. Leopold Bloom. Payment at the rate of one guinea per column. And that fellow today at the graveside in the brown macintosh. Corns on his kismet, however. Healthy perhaps. Absorb all day. Whistle brings rain, they say. Must be some somewhere. Salt in the ornament damp. The body feels the atmosphere. Old Betty's joints are on the rack. Mother Shipton's prophecy that is about ships around they fly in the twinkling. No. Signs of rain it is. The royal reader. And distant hills seem coming nigh. Hope. Bailey light. 24689. See. Has to change or they might think it a house. Records. Grace darling. People afraid of the dark. Also glowworms. Cyclists. Lighting up time. Jewels. Diamonds. Flash better. Women. Light is a kind of reassuring. Not going to hurt you. Better now of course than long ago. Country roads. Run you through the small guts for nothing. Still. Two types there are you bob against. Scowl or smile. Pardon. Not at all. Best time to spray plants too. In the shade after the sun. Some light still. Red rays are longest. Roy G. Biv. Bantz taught us. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. A star I see. Venus can't tell yet. Two. When free it's night. Were those night clouds there all the time? Looks like a phantom ship. No. Wait. Trees are they. An optical illusion. Mirage. Land of the setting sun this. Home rural sun setting in the southeast. My native land. Good night. Dew-balling. Bad for you dear to sit on that stone. Brings on quite fluctuations. Never have little baby then, lest he was big, strong. Fight his way up through. Might get piles myself. Sticks too like a summer cold. Sore on the mouth. Cut with grass or paper horsed. Friction of the position. Like to be that rock she sat on. Oh sweet little. You don't know how nice you looked. I begin to like them at that age. Green apples. Grab at all that offer. Suppose it's the only time we cross legs seated. Also the library today. Those girl graduates. Happy chairs under them. But it's the evening influence. They feel all that. Open like flowers. Know they're ours. Sunflowers. Jerusalem artichokes. In ballrooms chandeliers. Avenues under the lads. Night stock in Matt Dillon's garden where I kissed her shoulder. Wish I had a full length oil painting of her then. June that was too I would. The year returns. History repeats itself. He crags and peaks I'm with you once again. Life. Love. Voyage round your own little world. And now? Sad about her lame, of course. But must be on your guard. Not to feel too much pity. They take advantage. All quiet on hope now. The distant hills seem. Where we. The rotodendrons. I am a fool perhaps. He gets the plums. And I the plum stones. Where I come in. All that old hill has seen. Names change. That's all. Lovers. Yum come. Tired I feel now. Will I get up? Oh wait. Trained all the man who kissed me. Never again. Only once it comes. Or hers. The train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing new under the sun. Care of P. O. Dolphins Barn. Are you not happy in your. Naughty darling. At Dolphins Barn charades in Luke Doyle's house. Matt Dimon and his bevy of daughters. Tiny. Atty. Flowy. Mamie. Louie. Hetty. Molly too. Eighty-seven that was. Here before we. And the old major. Partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child. I an only child. So it returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home. Just when he and circus horse walking in a ring. Rip Van Winkle we played. Rip. Tear in Henny Doyle's overcoat. Van. Brent Van delivering. Winkle. Cockles and peri-winkles. Then I did Rip Van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching. Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in sleepy hollow. All changed. Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew. Fat. What is that flying about? Swallow? Fat probably. Thinks I'm a tree. So blind. Have birds no smell? Metampsychosis. They believe you could be changed into a tree from grief. Weeping Willow. There he goes. Funny little beggar. Wonder where he lives. Bell free up there. Very likely. Hanging by his heels in the odor of sanctity. Bell scared him out I suppose. Mass seems to be over. Could hear them all at it. Pray for us and pray for us and pray for us. Could idea the repetition. Same thing with ads. Buy from us and buy from us. Yes, there's the light in the priest's house. Their frugal meal. Remember about the mistake in the valuation when I was in Tom's. Twenty-eight it is. Two houses they have. Gabriel Conroy's brother is curate. Again, wonder why they come out at night like mice. They're a mixed breed. Birds are like huffing mice. What frightens them? Light or noise? Better sits still. All instinct, like the bird in the drought, got water out of the end of a jar by throwing in pebbles. Like a little man in a cloak he is. With tiny hands. Weeny bones. Almost see them shimmering. Kind of a bluey white. Colors depend on the light you see. Stare the sun, for example, like the eagle. Then look at a shoe. See a blotch, blob yellowish. Wants to stamp his trademark on everything. Instance. That cat this morning on the staircase. Color of brown turf. Say you never see them with three colors. Not true. That half-tabby white tortoise shelled in the city arms with the letter M on her forehead. Body fifty different colors. Hold the while ago amethyst. Glass flashing. That's how that wise man, what's his name, with the burning glass. Then the heather goes on fire. It can't be tourists' matches. What? Perhaps the sticks dry rubbed together in wind and light. Or broken bottles in the furs act as a burning glass in the sun. Our comedies, I haven't. My memory's not so bad. Who knows what they're always flying for. Insects. That bee last week got into the room, playing with his shadow on the ceiling. Might be the one bit me. Come back to see. Birds, too. Never find out. Or what they say. Like our small talk. And says she. And says he. Nerve they have to fly over the ocean, and astronauts must be killed in storms. Telegraph fires. Dreadful life sailors have, too. Big brooks of ocean-going steams floundering along in the dark. Blowing out like sea cows. Pull a bollock. Out of that bloody curse, too. Others in vessels. Bit of a handkerchief sail. Pitched about like snuff at a wake when the stormy winds do blow. Married, too. Sometimes away for years at the ends of the earth somewhere. No ends, really, because it's round. Wife in every port they say. She has a good job if she minds it till Johnny comes marching home again. If ever he does. Smelling the tail end of ports. How can they like the sea? Yet they do. The anchors wade off he sails with a scapular, or a medal on him for luck. Well, and the Teflon know what's this they call it poor papa's father had on his door to touch. That brought us out of the land of Egypt and into the house of bondage. Something in all those superstitions. Because when you go out, never know what dangers. Hanging on to a plank or a stride of a beam for grim life. Life belt round him, gulping salt water. And that's the last of his nibs till the sharks catch hold of him. Do fish ever get seasick? Then you have a beautiful calm without a cloud. Smooth sea. Placid. Crew and cargo in smithereens. Davey Jones locker. Moon looking down so peaceful. Not my fault, old Kakalora. A last lonely candle wandered up the sky from Maris Mazar in search of funds for Mercer's Hospital and broke. Drooping. And shed a cluster of violet but one white stars. They floated. Fell. They faded. The shepherd's hour. The hour of folding. Hour of trist. From house to house. Giving his ever welcome double knock. Went the nine o'clock poster. The glowworm's lamp at his belt gleaming here and there through the laurel hedges. And among the five young trees a hoisted lint-stock lit the lamp that lay his terrace. By screens of lighted windows. By evil gardens a shrill voice went crying. Wailing. Evening telegraph. Stop precedition. Result of the gold cup races. And from the door of Diglam's house a boy ran out and called. Twittering. The bat flew here. Flew there. Far out over the sands. The coming syrup crept gray. Hope settled for slumber. Tired of long days. Of yum-yum rhododendrons. He was old. And felt gladly the night breeze lift. Ruffled his fell of ferns. He lay but opened a red eye. Unsleeping. Deep and slowly breathing. Slumberous but awake. And far on Kishbank the anchored light-ship twinkled. Winked at Mr. Bloom. Life those chaps out there must have. Stuck in the same spot. Irish lights bored. Penance for their sins. Coast guards too. Rocketed breaches. Boy and lifeboat. Day we went out for the pleasure cruise in the errands king. Throwing them a sack of old papers. Bears in the zoo. Filthy trip. Trunkards out to shake up their livers. Puking overboard to feed the herrings. Nausea. And the women fear of God in their faces. Millie no sign of funk. Her blue scarf loose. Laughing. Don't know what death is at that age. And then their stomachs clean. But being lost they fear. When we hid behind the tree at Krumlin. I didn't want to. Mama. Mama. Babes in the wood. Frightening them with masks too. Throwing them up in the air to catch them. I'll murder you. Is it only half fun? Poor children play battle. Whole earnest. How can people aim guns at each other? Sometimes they go off. Poor kids. Only troubles wildfire and metal rash. Calamel purge I got her for that. After getting better. Asleep with Molly. Very sane teeth she has. What do they love? Another themselves. But the morning she chased her with the umbrella. Perhaps so as not to hurt. I felt her pulse. Ticking. Little hand it was. Now big. Dearest Pobling. All that the hand says when you touch. Loved to count my waistcoat buttons. Her first stays I remember. Make me laugh to see. Little paps to begin with. Left one is more sensitive I think. And two. Nearer the heart. Padding themselves out of fatties and fashion. Her growing pains at night. Calling. Awakening me. Frightened she was when her nature came on her first. Poor child. Strange moment for the mother too. Brings back her girlhood. Gibraltar. Looking from Buena Vista. O'Hara's tower. The seabirds screaming. Old Barbary ape that gobbled all his family. Sundown. Gunfire for the men to cross the lines. Looking out over the sea. She told me. Evening like this. But clear. No clouds. I always thought I'd marry a lord or a rich gentleman. Coming with a private yacht. Buenas noches senorita. El hombre amala muchacha hermosa. Why me? Because you were so foreign from the others. Better not stick here all night like a limpet. This weather makes you dull. Must be getting on for nine by the light. Go home. Too late for Leah. Lillia Calarney. No. Might be still up. Call to the hospital to see. Hope she's over. Long day I've had. Martha. Funeral. House of Keys. Museum with those goddesses. Deadly song. Then that baller in Barney Kiernan's. Got my own back there. What I said about his god made him wince. Mistake to hit back. Or no. Hot to go home and laugh at themselves. Always want to be swelling in company. Be alone. Like a child of two. Suppose he hit me. Look at it other way round. Not so bad then. Perhaps not to hurt he men. Three cheers for Israel. Three cheers for the sister-in-law he hawked about. Three fangs in her mouth. Same style of beauty. Particularly nice old party for a cup of tea. The sister of the wife of the wild man of Borneo has just come to town. Imagine that in the early morning at close range. Everyone to his taste as Morris said when he kissed the cow. But dignums put the boots on it. Houses of mourning so depressing. Because you never know. Anyhow she wants the money. Must call to those Scottish widows as I promised. Strange name. Takes it for granted we're going to pop off first. That widow on Monday was it outside Kramer's that looked at me. Buried the poor husband. But progressing favorably upon the premium. Hurt widows might. Well, what do you expect her to do? Must weadle her way along. Widow or I hate to see. Looks so forlorn. Poor man O'Connor. Wife and five children poisoned by muscles here. The sewage. Hopeless. Some good matronly woman in a pork pie hat to mother him. Take him in tow. Platter face and a large apron. Ladies grey flannelette bloomers. Three shillings of hair. Astonishing bargain. Plain and blubbed. Blubbed forever they say. Luckily no woman thinks she is. Love lie and be handsome. For tomorrow we die. See him sometimes walking about. Trying to find out who played the trick. You pee up. Fate that is. He not me. Also a shop often noticed. Curse seems to dogged. Drenched last night. Wait. Something confused. She had red slippers on. Turkish. War the breeches. Suppose she does. Would I like her in pajamas? Damned hard to answer. Then had he's gone. Mailboat. Near Holy Head by now. Must nail that ad of keys. Work hines and Crawford. Petty coats for Molly. She has something to put in them. What's that? Might be money. Mr. Bloom stooped and turned over a piece of paper on the strand. He brought it near his eyes and peered. Letter? No. Can't read. Better go. Better. I'm tired to move. Page of an old copy book. All those holes and pebbles. Who could count them? Never know what you find. Bottled with story of a treasure in it. Thrown from a wreck. Parcels post. Children always want to throw things in the sea. Trust. Bread cast on the waters. What's this? Bit of stick. Oh. Exhausted that female has me. Not so young now. Will she come here tomorrow? Wait for her somewhere forever. Must come back. Will I? Mr. Bloom with his stick gently vexed the thick sand at his foot. Write a message for her. Might remain. What? I? Some flat foot tramp on it in the morning. Useless. Washed away. Tide comes here. Saw a pool near her foot. Bend. See my face there. Dark mirror. Breathe on it. Sturs. All these rocks with lines and scars and letters. Oh, those transparent. Besides, they don't know. What is the meaning of that other world? I called you naughty boy, because I do not like. No room. Let it go. Mr. Bloom effaced the letters with his slow boot. Hopeless things sand. Nothing grows in it. All fades. No fear of big vessels coming up here. Except Guinness barges. Round the kish in eighty days. Done half by design. He flung his wooden pen away. The stick fell in silted sand. Stuck. Now if you were trying to do that for a week on end, you couldn't answer. We'll never meet again. But it was lovely. Goodbye, dear. Thanks. Made me feel so young. Short snooze now. Must be near nine. Liverpool boat long gone. Not even the smoke. And she can do the other. Did too. And fell fast. I won't go. Brace there. Brace back to Ennis. Let him. Just close my eyes a moment. Won't sleep, though. Have dream. It never comes the same. No harm in him. Just a few. Oh, sweetie. All your little girl white. Up I saw. Dirty brace girdle. Made me do love sticky. We too naughty. Grace darling. She. Him. Half past the bed. Met him. Pike hold it. Trillies for rowl to perfume. Your wife. Black hair. Eve under senorita. Young eyes. Molly had slippers. She. Rusty. Sleep. Wander. Years of dreams. Return. Tail and ear. Drawers. Return. Next. In her. Here. There. Here. Far in the gray. A bell chimed. Mr. Bloom. With open mouth. His left boot. Sanded sideways. Leamed. Breaved. Just for a few. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. The clock on the mantelpiece in the priest's house. Cooed. Where can and O'Hanlon. And Father Conroy. And the reverend John Hughes S.J. Were taking tea and soda bread and butter. And fried mutton chops with ketchup. And talking about. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Because it was a little canary bird that came out of its little house to tell the time that Gertie McDowell noticed the time she was there. Because she was as quick as anything about a thing like that was Gertie McDowell. And she noticed at once that that foreign gentleman that was sitting on the rocks looking was Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Cuckoo. Part 2. The Odyssey. Episode 14. Oxen of the Sun. Part 1. Upsa. Boyaboy. Hoopsa. Upsa. Boyaboy. Hoopsa. Upsa. Boyaboy. Hoopsa. Universally that person's acumen is esteemed very little, perceptive, concerning what soever matters are being held as most profitably by mortals with sapience endowed, to be studied who is ignorant of that, which the most indoctrined erudite, and certainly by reason of that in them high-minds ornament deserving of veneration, constantly maintain when by general consent they affirm that other circumstances being equal by no exterior splendor is the prosperity of a nation more efficaciously asserted than by the measure of how far forward may have progressed the tribute of its solicitude for that proliferant continuance which of evils the original if it be absent when fortunately present constitutes the certain sign of omnipotent nature's incorrupted benefaction. For who is there who anything of some significance has apprehended but is conscious that that exterior splendor may be the surface of a downward-tending, letulent reality, or on the contrary anyone so is there unilluminated as not to perceive that as no nature's boon can contend against the bounty of increase, so it behooves every most just citizen to become the exhortator and admonisher of his semblables and to tremble lest what had in the past been by the nation excellently commenced might be in the future not with similar excellence accomplished if an invariacund habit shall have gradually traduced the honorable by ancestors transmitted customs to that thither of profundity that that one was audacious excessively who would have the hardy-hood to rise affirming that no more odious offence can for anyone be than too oblivious neglect to consign that evangel simultaneously command and promise which on all mortals with prophecy of abundance or with the munitions menace that exalted of reiteratedly procreating function ever irrevocably enjoined it is not why therefore we shall wonder if as the best historians relate among the Celts who nothing that was not in its nature admirable admired the art of medicine shall have been highly honored not to speak of hostels leper yards sweating chambers plague graves their greatest doctors the O'Sheil's the O'Hickie's the Oly's have sedulously set down the diverse methods by which the sick and the relapsed found again health whether the malady had been the trembling withering or loose boy Connell flux certainly in every public work which in it anything of gravity contains preparation should be with importance commensurate and therefore a plan was by them adopted whether by having pre-considered or as the maturation of experience it is difficult in being said which the discrepant opinions of subsequent inquirers are not up to the present congrued to render manifest whereby maternity was so far from all accident possibility removed that whatever care the patient in that all hardest of woman our chiefly required and not solely for the copiously opulent but also for her who not being sufficiently moneyed scarcely and often not even scarcely could subsist valiantly and for an inconsiderable emolument was provided to her nothing already then and thence forward was anyway able to be molestful for this chiefly felt all citizens except with proliferant mothers prosperity at all not to can be and as they had received eternity God's mortals generation to be fit them her beholding when the case was so hoving itself parturient in vehicle thereward carrying desire immense among all one another was impelling on of her to be received into that domicile oh thing of prudent nation not merely in being seen but also even in being related worthy of being praised that they her by anticipation went seeing mother that she by them suddenly to be about to be cherished had been begun she felt before born bliss babe had within womb one he worship whatever in that one case done commodiously done was a couch by midwives attended with wholesome food reposeful cleanest swaddles as though forth bringing were now done and by wise foresight set but to this no less of what drugs there is need in surgical implements which are pertaining to her case not omitting aspect of all very distracting spectacles in various latitudes by our terrestrial orb offered together with images divine and human the cogitation of which by si junk females is to tumescence conducive or eases issue in the high sun bright well built fair home of mothers when ostensibly far gone and reproductive it is come by her there to to lie in her term up some man that way faring was stood by house door at night's oncoming of Israel's folk was that man that on earth wandering far had fared stark Ruth of man his errand that him loan led to that house of that house a horn is Lord 70 beds keeps he their teaming mothers are want that they lie for to thole and bring forth bairns hail so God's angel to marry quote watchers tway their walk white sisters in ward sleepless smarts they still sickness soothing in twelve moons thrice and hundred trust bed thanes they twain are for horn holding weariest ward in ward wary the watcher hearing come that man mild-hearted effed rising with swire you wimpled to her gate wide undid low leaven leaping lightens in eye blink Ireland's westward welcome full she dread that God the reeker all man kind would for do with water for his evil sins Christ's rude made she on breastbone and him drew that he would wrath in fair under her thatch that man her will whatting worthful went in horn's house loath to irk in horn's hall hat holding the seeker stood on her stow he air was living with dear wife and love some daughter that then over land and sea floor nine years had long out wondered once her in town hithe meeting he to her bow had not doffed her to forgive now he craved with good ground of her allowed that that of him swift seen face hers so young then had looked light swift her eyes kindled bloom of blushes his word winning as her eyes then on got his weeds swore therefore sorrow she feared glad after she was that air a dread was her he asked if O'Hare doctor tidings sent from far coast and she with grainful sigh him answered that O'Hare doctor in heaven was sad was the man that were to hear that him so heavy didn't bowels Ruthful all she there told him ruin death for friend so young all gates or unwilling God's right wiseness to with say she said that he had a fair sweet death through God his goodness with mass priests to be shriven holy house and sick men's oil to his limbs the man then right earnest asked the none of which death the dead man was died and the nun answered him and said that he was died in Mona Island through belly crab three year ago and come children mass and she prayed to God the all Ruthful to have his dear soul in undeathliness he heard her sad words in held hat sad staring so stood they there both a while in one hope sorrowing one with another therefore every man look to that last end that is thy death and the dust that gripeth on every man that is born of woman for as he came naked forth from his mother's womb so naked shall he wind him at the last for to go as he came the man that was coming to the house then spoke to the nursing woman and he asked her how it fared with the woman that lay there in child bed the nursing woman answered him and said that that woman was in throws now full three days and that it would be a hard birth enough to bear but that now in little it would be she said there to that she had seen many births of women but never was none so hard as was that woman's birth then she said it all forth to him for because she knew the man that time was had lived nigh that house the man harkened to her words for he felt with wonder woman's woe in the travail that they have of motherhood and he wondered to look on her face that was a fair face for any man to see but yet was she left after long years a handmaid nine twelve blood flows chiding her childless and while they spake the door of the castle was opened and there night them a nickel noise as of many that sat there at meat and there came against the place as they stood a young learning night he klept Dixon and the traveller Leopold was coothed to him sith and it had hapt that they had had a do each with other in the house of misery cord where this learning night lay by cause the traveller Leopold came there to be healed for he was sore wounded in his breast by a spear wherewith a horrible and dreadful dragon was smitten him for which he did do make a salve of volatile salt and chrysum as much as he might suffice and he said now that he should go into that castle for to make merry with them that were there and the traveller Leopold said that he should go other with her for he was a man of cottles and a subtile and the lady was of his office and reprieved the learning night though she trod well that the traveller had said thing that was false for his subtlety but the learning night would not hear say nay nor do her maiden meant nay have him in ought contrarious to his list and he said how it was a marvelous castle and the traveller Leopold went into the castle for to rest him for a space being sore of limb after many marches and virining in diverse lands and some time venery and in the castle was set a board that was of the birchwood of finlandy and it was upheld by four dwarf men of that country but they durst not move more for enchantment and on this board were frightful swords and knives that are made in a great cavern by swinking demons out of white flames that they fixed then in the horns of buffaloes and stags that there abound marvelously and there were vessels that are wrought by magic of mahund out of sea sand and the air by a warlock with his breath that he blazes into them like two bubbles and full fair cheer and rich was on the board that no white could devise a fuller and the richer and there was a vat of silver that was moved by craft to open in the witch lay strange fishes without in heads though misbelieving men nigh that this be possible thing without that they see it and nevertheless they are so and these fishes lie in an oily water brought there from portugal land because of the fatness that there in is like to the juices of the olive press and also it was a marvel to see in that castle how by magic they make a compost out of fecund wheat kidneys out of chaldee that by aid of certain angry spirits that they do into it swells up wondrously like to a vast mountain and they teach the serpents there to entwine themselves up on long sticks out of the ground and of the scales of these serpents they brew out a bruise like to mead and the learning night let poor for child Leopold a draft and help there to the while all they that were there drank every each and child Leopold did up his beaver for to pleasure him and took apparently somewhat in enmity for he never drank no manner of mead which he then put by in an on full prively he voided the more part in his neighbor glass and his neighbor nests not of this while and he sat down in that castle with them for to rest him there a while thanked be almighty God this meanwhile this good sister stood by the door and begged them at the reverence of Jezu our author leads Lord to leave their wasling for there was above one quick with child a gentle dame whose time hide fast Sir Leopold heard on this up-floor cry on high and he wondered what cry that it was whether of child or woman and I marvel said he that it be not come or now me seems it durith over long and he was where and saw a Franklin that height Lenahan on that side the table that was older than any of the tother and for that they both were nights virtuous in the one and prize and eek by cause that he was elder he spoke to him full gently but said he or it be long to she will bring forth by God is bounty and have joy of her childing for she hath waited marvelous long and the Franklin that had drunken said expecting each moment to be her next. Also he took the cup that stood to for him for him needed never none asking nor desiring of him to drink and now drink said he fully delectably and he quaffed as far as he might to their both self for he was a passing good man of his lustiness and Sir Leopold that was the goodliest guest that ever sat in scholars hall and that was the meekest man and the kindest that ever laid husbandly hand under hen and that was the very truest night of the world one that ever did minion service to lady gentle pledged him courtly in the cup woman's woe with wonder pondering now let us speak of that fellowship that was there to the intent to be drunken and they might there was a sort of scholars among either side the board that is to wit Dick Cindy Clep Junior of St. Mary Merciables with other his fellows Lynch and Madden scholars of medicine and the Franklin that Hight Lenahan and one from Albolonga one crossers and young Stephen that had Mayan of a frayer that was at head of the board and Costello that men Clep and punch Costello all long of a mastery of him air while gested and of all them reserved young Stephen he was the most drunken that demanded still of more mead and beside the meek Sir Leopold but on young Malachi they waited for that he promised to have come and such as intended to no goodness said how he had broke his avow and Sir Leopold sat with them for he bore fast friendship to Sir Simon and to this his son young Stephen and for that his Langer becalmed him there after longest wanderings in so much as they feasted him for that time in the honorablest manner Ruth read him love led on with will to wander loath to leave for they were right witty scholars and he heard their air sounds each gen other as touching birth and righteousness young Madden maintaining that put such case it were hard the wife to die for so it had fallen out a matter of some year gone with a woman of the Blana in Horn's house that now was trespassed out of this world and the self night next before her death all leeches and Pothicaries had taken counsel of her case and they said father she should live because in the beginning they said the woman should bring forth in pain and where for they that were of this imagination affirmed how young Madden had said truth for he had conscience to let her die and not few and of these was young Lynch were in doubt that the world was now right evil governed as it was never other how be it the mean people believed it otherwise but the law nor his judges did provide no remedy a redress God Grant this was scant said but all cried with one acclaim nay by our virgin mother the wife should live in the babe to die in color whereof they waxed hot upon that head what with argument and what for their drinking but the Franklin Lenehan was prompt each went to pour them ale so that at the least way mirth might not lack then young Madden showed all the whole affair and said how that she was dead and how for holy religion's sake by read of Palmer and Bedesman and for a vow he had made to Saint Alton of Abercan her good man husband would not let her death whereby they were all wondrous grieved to whom young Stephen had these words following murmursers is eek off to among lay folk both babe and parent now glorify their maker the one in limbo gloom the other in purge fire but Gramercy what are those God possible souls that we nightly impossible lives which is the sin against the Holy Ghost very God Lord and giver of life for service he said our lust is brief we are means to those small creatures within us and nature has other ends than we then said Dixon junior to punch Costello whist he what ends but he had over much drunken and the best word he could have of him was that he would ever dishonest a woman who so she were or wife or maid or Lehman if it so fortunate him to be delivered of his spleen of lusty head we're at crawlers of Albolonga sang young Malachi's praise of that beast the unicorn how once in the millennium he cometh by his horn the other all this while pricked forward with their jibes wherewith they did malice him witnessing all and several by Saint Fauton is his engines that he was able to do any manner of thing that lay in man to do there at last they all right Joe cuddly only young Stephen and Sir Leopold which never durst left to open by reason of a strange humor which he would not be Ray and also for that he rude for her that bear who so she might be or where so ever then spake young Stephen orgulus of mother church that would cast him out of her bosom of law of cannons of Lilith patron of abortions of bigness wrought by wind of seeds of brightness or by potency of vampires mouth to mouth or as Virgilia sayeth by the influence of the oxidant or by the reek of moonflower or and she lie with a woman which her man has but lain with effect Osecuto or paradventure in her bath according to the opinions of avarose and Moses Maimonides he said also how at the end of the second month the human soul was infused and how in all our holy mother foldeth ever souls for God's greater glory whereas that earthly mother which was but a dam to bear beastly should die by cannon for so sayeth he that holdeth the fisherman seal even that blessed Peter on which rock was holy church for all ages founded all they bachelors then asked of Sir Leopold would he in like case so jeopard her person as risk life to save life awareness of mind he would answer as fit at all and laying hand to jaw he said dissembling as his want was that as it was informed him who had ever loved the art of physics as Maimon and agreeing also with his experience of so seldom seen an accident it was good for that mother church be like at one blow had birth and death pence and in such sort delivery he escaped their questions that his truth party said Dixon and or I air a pregnant word which hearing young Steven was a marvelous glad man and he have heard that he who stealeth from the poor lendeth to the Lord for he was of a wild manner when he was drunken and that he was now in that taking it appeared effed soons but Sir Leopold was passing grave Moger his word by cause he still had pity of the terror causing shrieking of shrill women in their labor and as he was minded of his good lady Marion that had born him and only man child which on his eleventh day on live had died and no man of art could save so dark is destiny and she was wondrous stricken of heart for that evil hap and for his burial did him on a fair course let of lambs wool the flower of the flock lest he might perish utterly and lie a keeled for it was then about the midst of the winter and now Sir Leopold that had of his body no man child for an air looked upon him his friend's son and was shut up in sorrow for his four past happiness and as sad as he was that him failed a son of such gentle courage for all accounted him of real parts so grieve he also in no less measure for young Steven for that he lived riotously with these waste rolls and murdered his goods with horrors about that present time young Steven filled all cups that stood empty so as there remained but little Moe if the prudenter had not shadowed their approach from him that still plight it very busily who praying for the intentions of the sovereign pontiff he gave them for a pledge the vicar of Christ which also as he said is vicar of Bray now drink we quote he of this mazer and quaff you this mead which is not indeed parcel of my body but my soul's body mint leave the fraction of bread to them that live by bread alone be not a feared neither for anyone for this will comfort more than the other will dismay see he here and he showed them glistening coins of the tribute and goldsmith notes the worth of two pound nineteen chilling that he had he said for a song which he read they all admired to see the four said riches in such dearth of money as was here before and his words were then these as followeth know all men he said times ruins build eternities mansions what means this desires wind blasts the thorn tree but after it becomes from a bramble bush to be arose upon the root of time mark me now in woman's womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away this is the post creation omnis caro odd day when yet no question but her name is we saw who have entered the dear course of our agon buyer healer and herd our mighty mother and mother most venerable and bernardus sayeth aptly that she hath an omnipotentium dayy parai supplicum that is to it and all mightiness of petition because she is the second eve and she won us say of Augustine too whereas that other our grand dam which we are linked up with by successive anastomis of naval cords sold us all seed breed and generation for a penny pippin but here is the matter now or she knew him that second I say and was but creature of her creature vergini madre filia di tua filio or she knew him not and then stands she in the one denial or ignorance see which peter piscator who lives in the house that jack built and with joseph the joiner patron of the happy demise all unhappy marriages porsche monsieur lio taxon nous a dit que qui l'avait mis c'est dans cette fichu position c'est-à-dire le sacre pision venteur de du entweider transubstantiality odor consubstantiality but in no case subsubstantiality and all cried out upon it for a very scurvy word a pregnancy without joy he said a birth without pangs a body without blemish a belly without bigness let the lewd with faith and fervor worship with will will we withstand with say end of section 33 recording by Richard Wallace Liberty Missouri 12 october 2010 section 34 of Ulysses this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Ulysses by James Joyce part two the Odyssey episode 14 oxen of the sun part two hereupon punch Custello dinged with his fist upon the board and would sing a bardic catch stabu stabella about a winch that was put in pod of a jolly swashbuckler in almanie which he did straightways now attack the first three months she was not well stabu when here nurse Quigley from the door angrily bid them hiss you should shame you nor was it not meet as she remembered them being her mind was to have all orderly against lord Andrew came for because she was jealous that no gasful turmoil might shorten the honor of her guard it was an ancient and a sad matron of a sedate look and Christian walking inhabit done beseeming her migrims and wrinkled visage nor did her hortitive want of it effect for incontinently punch Custello was of them all embraded and they reclaimed the churl with civil rudeness some and shaked him with menace of blandishments others while they all chowed with him a marine sees the adult what a devil he would be at thou chuff thou puny thou gotten peas straw thou locile thou chitterling thou spawn of a rebel thou dyke dropped thou abortion thou to shut up his drunken drool out of that like a curse of god ape the good Sir Leopold that had for his cognizance the flower of quiet margarine gentle advising also the time's occasion as most sacred and most worthy to be most sacred in horn's house rest should reign to be short this passage was scarce by when master Dixon of Mary and Eccles goodly grinning asked young Steven what was the reason why he had not decided to take fryer's vows and he answered him obedience in the womb chastity in the tomb but involuntary poverty all his days master Lenahan at this made return that he had heard of those nefarious deeds and how as he heard hereof counted he had besmirched the lily virtue of a confiding female which was corruption of minors and they all inter showed it to waxing Mary and toasting to his father ship but he said very entirely it was clean contrary to their suppose for he was the eternal son and ever virgin there at mirth grew in them the more and they rehearsed to him his curious right of wedlock for the disrobing and deflowering of spouses as the priests use in Madagascar Island she to be in guise of white and saffron her groom in white and grain with burning of gnarred and tapers on a bride bed while clerks son Kyrie's and the anthem would know that her sexist omnis corporis mysterium till she was there unmated he gave them then a much admirable hymn minimum by those delicate poets master John Fletcher and master Francis Beaumont that is in their maids tragedy that was written for a like twining of lovers to bed to bed was the burden of it to be played with a comfortable consent upon the virginals and exquisite dulcet epithalum a was the most mollificative suedency for juveniles amatory whom the odouriferous flambos of the Paranymphs have escorted to the quadrupedal proscenium of cannubial communion well met they were said master Dixon enjoyed but Harky young sir better were they named Beaumont and Letcher for by my troth of such a mingling much might come young Stephen said indeed to his best remembrance they had but the one doxy between them and she of the stews to make shift with in delights amorous for life rent very high in those days and the custom of the country approved with it greater love than this he said no man hath that a man lay down his wife for his friend go thou and do likewise thus or words to that effect sayeth Zarathustra sometimes regious professor of French letters to the University of Oxtail nor breathed there ever that man to whom mankind was more beholden bring a stranger within thy power it will go hard but thou wilt have the second best bed orate fratres pro me me tipso and all the people shall say amen remember Aaron thy generations and thy days of old how thou seduced little by me and by my word and broad tidst in a stranger to my gates to commit fornication in my sight and to wax fat and kick like Dishurum therefore hast thou sinned against my light and hast made me thy lord to be the slave of servants return return clan Millie forget me not O Melisian why hast thou done this abomination before me that thou didst spurn me for a merchant of jellops and didst deny me to the Roman and to the Indian of dark speech with whom my daughters did lie luxuriously look forth now my people upon the land of behest even from Horeb and from Nebo and from Pisgah and from the horns of Hatton unto a land flowing with milk and money but thou hast suckled me with a bitter milk my moon and my son thou hast quenched forever and thou hast left me alone forever in the dark ways of my bitterness and with a kiss of ashes hast thou kissed my mouth this tenobrosity of the interior he proceeded to say hath not been illumined by the wit of the septu-guint nor so much as mentioned for the orient from on high which break hell's gates visited a darkness that was foraneous asue faction monerates atrocities as Tully saith of his darling stoics and Hamlet his father showeth the prince no blister of combustion this adia funny in the noon of life is an Egypt's plague which in the nights of pre-nativity and post-mortemity is their most proper Ubi and Cuomoto and as the ends and ultimates of all things accord in some mean and measure with their inceptions and originals that same multiplicity concordance which leads forth growth from birth accomplishing by a retrogressive metamorphosis that menacing enablation towards the final which is agreeable unto nature so is it with our sub-solar being. The aged sisters draw us into life. We wail, baton, sport, clip, clasp, sunder, dwindle, die. Over us dead they bend. First saved from waters of old Nile, among bullrushes, a bed of fasciated waddles, at last the cavity of a mountain, an occulted sepulcher amid the conclamation of the hill-cat and the asafrage, and as no man knows the ubiquity of his tumulus nor to what processes we shall thereby be ushered nor whether to Tofet or to Edenville in the like way is all hidden when we would backward see from what region of remoteness the whatness of Arjunus hath fetched his winseness. There too Punch Castello roared out mainly Etienne Chanson, but he loudly bid them low, Wisdom hath built herself a house, this vast majestic long-established vault, the crystal palace of the Creator, all in apple pie order a penny for him who finds the pea. Behold the mansion reared by Ediedel Jack, see the malt stored in many a refluent sack in the proud cirque of Jack John's Bivouac. A black crack of noise in the street here, a lack bald back, loud on left Thor a-thundered, and anger awful the hammer hurler. Come now the storm that hissed his heart, and Master Lynch bade him have a care to flout and wit wanton as the god-self was angered for his hell-prate and paganry. And he that had erst's challenge to be so dotty waxed wan as they might all mark and shrink together in his pitch that was before so hot uplift was now a sudden quite plucked down, and his heart shook within the cage of his breast as he tasted the rumor of that storm. Then did some mock and some jeer, and Punch Castello fell hard again to his Yale which Master Lenahan vowed he would do after, and he was indeed but a word and a blow on any the least color. But the braggart boaster cried that an old nobodaddy was in his cups it was much what indifferent, and he would not lag behind his lead. But this was only to die his desperation as cow'd he crouched in Horns Hall. He drank indeed at one draft to pluck up a heart of any grace for it thundered long rumblingly over all the heavens so that Master Madden, being godly certain wiles, knocked him on his ribs upon that crack of doom, and Master Bloom, at the braggart's side, spoke to him calming words to slumber his great fear, advertising how it was no other thing but a hubbub noise that he heard, the discharge of fluid from the thunder-head, looked you having taken place, and all of the order of a natural phenomenon. But was young Bo Stard's fear vanquished by Calmer's words? No, for he had in his bosom a spike named Bitterness, which could not by words be done away. And was he then neither calm like the one nor godly like the other? He was neither as much as he would have liked to be either. But could he not have endeavored to have found again, as in his youth, the bottle-holiness that then he lived with all? Indeed, no, for grace was not there to find that bottle. Hurt he then in that clap the voice of the god bring forth, or what Calmer said, a hubbub of phenomenon? Hurt? Why, he could not but hear unless he had plugged him up the tube understanding which he had not done. For through that tube he saw that he was in the land of phenomenon, where he must for a certain one day die, as he was like the rest to a passing show. And would he not accept to die like the rest and pass away? By no means would he, though he must nor would he make more shows, according as men do with wives, which phenomenon has commanded them to do by the book law. Then what did he not of that other land which is called to believe on me, that is the land of promise which behooves to the king delightful, and shall be for ever, where there is no death, and no birth, neither wiping nor mothering, at which all shall come, as many believe on it? Yes, Pius had told him of that land, and Chase had pointed him to the way, but the reason was that in the way he fell in with a certain whore of an eye-pleasing exterior, whose name, she said, is bird in the hand, and she beguiled him wrong ways from the true path by her flatteries, that she said to him, as, oh, you pretty man, turn aside hither, and I will show you a brave place, and she lay at him so flatteringly, that she had him in her grot, which is named to in the bush, or by some learned carnal concupessence. This was it but all that company that sat there at commons in mans of mothers the most lusted after, and if they met with this whore bird in the hand, which was within all foul plagues, monsters, and a wicked devil, they would strain the last, but they would make at her and know her. For regarding believe on me they said it was not else but notion, and they could conceive no thought of it, for, first, to in the bush, whether she ticed them, was the very goodliest grot, and in it were four pillows, on which were four tickets, with these words printed on them, picka-back and topsy-turvy and shame-face, and cheek by jow, and, second, for that foul plague, all pox, and the monsters they cared not for them, for preservative had given them a stout shield of oxen-gut, and third, that they might take no hurt, neither from offspring that was that wicked devil by virtue of this same shield, which was named kill-child. So were they all in their blind fancy, Mr. Cavill, and Mr. Sometimes Godly, Mr. Apes Willale, and Mr. False Franklin, Mr. Dainty Dixon, Young Bostard, and Mr. Koshish Kalmer, wherein, O wretched company, were ye all deceived, for that was the voice of the God that was in a very grievous rage, that he would presently lift his arm up, and spill their souls for their abuses, and their spillings done by them, contrary-wise to his word, which forth to bring, brinningly bideth. So Thursday, 16th June, Patrick Dignam laid in clay of an apoplexy, and after hard drought, please God reigned, a barge-man coming in by water a fifty-mile or thereabout with turf, saying the seed won't sprout, fields of thirst, very sad-colored and stunk mightily, the quags and tofts too. Hard to breathe, and all the young quicks clean-consumed without sprinkle this long while back, as no man remembered to be without. The rosy buds all gone brown, and spread out blobs and on the hills not but dry flag, and faggots that would catch at first fire. All the world saying, for ought they knew, the big wind of last February a year, that did havoc the land so pitifully a small thing beside this barrenness. But by and by, as said, this evening after sundown, the winds sitting in the west, biggest swollen clouds to be seen, as the night increased, and the weather-wise pouring up at them, and some sheet-lightnings at first and after, past ten of the clock, one great stroke, with a long thunder, and an abrasive shakes, all scamper pell-mell, within door for the smoking shower. The men making shelter for their straws with a clout, or kerchief, women-folk skipping off with curtles catched up soon as the pour came. In Ely Place, Baggett Street, Duke's Lawn, thence through Marion Green up to Hollis Street, a swash of water flowing, that was before bone-dry, and not one chair, or coach, or fiacracene about, but no more crack after that first. Over against the right honourable Mr. Justice Fitzgibbon's door, that is to sit with Mr. Healy the lawyer upon the college lands, Mal Mulligan, a gentleman's gentleman that had but come from Mr. Moore's the Writers, that was a papish but is now, folks say, a good Williamite. Chanced against Alec Bannon in a cut-bob, which are now in with dance cloaks of Kendall Green, that was new got to town from Mullingar with the stage where his cousin and Mal M's brother will stay a month yet till St. Swithin, and asks what in the earth he does there, he bound home, and he to Andrew Horne's being stayed for to crush a cup of wine, so he said, but would tell him of a skittish heifer, big of a rage, and beef to the heel, and all this while poured with rain, and so both together onto horns. There Leop Bloom of Crawford's journal sitting snug with a covey of wags, likely brangling fellows, Dixon June, scholar of My Lady of Mercies, Vin Lynch, a Scots fellow, Will Madden, T. Lenahan, very sad but a racer he fancied, and Stephen D. Leop Bloom there for a langer he had, but was now better, be having dreamed to-night, and a fancy strange of his dame Mrs. Mole, with red slippers on, and a pair of turkey trunks, which is thought by those in Ken to be for a change, and Mistress Purefoy there, that got in through pleading her belly, and now on the stools, poor body, two days past her term, the midwife sore-put to it and can't deliver, she queasy for a bowl of rice-slop, that is a shrewd drier up of the insides, and her breath very heavy more than good, and should be a bully-boy from the knocks, they say, but God give her soon issue. Tis her ninth chick to live, I hear, and Lady Day bit off her last chick's nails that was then a twelve-month, and with other three all breast-fed that died, written out in a fair hand in the King's Bible. Her hub fifty odd and a Methodist but takes the sacrament, and is to be seen any fair Sabbath with a pair of his boys off Bullock Harbour, dapping on the sound with a heavy-braked reel, or in a punt he has trailing for flounder and pollock, and catches a fine bag, I hear. In some an infinite great fall of rain, and all refreshed, and will much increase the harvest, yet those in Ken say after wind and water fire shall come for a prognostication of Malachi's almanac. And I hear that Mr. Russell has done a prophetical charm of the same gist out of the Hindustanish for his farmer's gazette, to have three things in all but this a mere fetch without bottom of reason for old crones and bairns, yet sometimes they are found in the right guess with their queerities no telling how. With this came up Lenahan to the feet of the table to say how the letter was in that night's gazette, and he made a show to find it about him, for he swore with an oath that he had been at pains about it. But on Stephen's persuasion he gave over the search, and was bitten to sit nearby, which he did mighty brisk. He was a kind of sport-gentleman that went for a merry Andrew or honest pickle, and what belonged to women, horse-flesh or hot scandal he had at Pat. To tell the truth he was mean and fortunes, and for the most part hankered about the coffee-houses, and low taverns with crimps, oslurs, bookies, Paul's men, runners, flat caps, waist-coteers, ladies of the banyo, and other rogues of the game, or with a chanceable catch-pole or tip-staff, often at night's till broad day of whom he picked up between his sack-possets much loose gossip. He took his ordinary out of boiling cooks, and if he had but gotten into him a mess of broken victuals or a platter of stripes with a bare tester in his purse, he could always bring himself off with his tongue. Some randy quip he had from a punk or whatnot that every mother's son of them would burst their sides. The other, Castello that is, hearing this talk, asked was it poetry or a tale? Faith know, he says, Frank, that was his name, tis all about carry-cows that are to be butchered along of their plig. They can go hang, says he with a wink, for me with their bully-beef a pox on it. There's as good fish in this tin as ever came out of it, and very friendly he offered to take of some salty spratts that stood by which he had eyed wishly in the meantime, and found the place which was indeed the chief design of his embassy as he was sharp-set. Morte au vache, says Frank, then in the French language, that had been indentured to a brandy-shipper that has a wine lodge and bordeaux, and he spoke French like a gentleman, too. From a child this Frank had been a dough-knot that his father, a head-burrow, who could ill-keep him to school to learn his letters and the use of the globes, matriculated at the university to study the mechanics, but he took the bit between his teeth like a raw cult, and was more familiar with the justiciary and the parish beetle than with his volumes. One time he would be a play-actor, then a subtler or a welser, then not would keep him from the bare pit in the cocking-main. Then he was for the ocean sea, or to hoof it on the roads with the Romani folk, kidnapping a squire's air by favor of moonlight or fecking maids linen or choking chicken behind a hedge. He had been off as many times as a cat has lives, and back again with naked pockets, as many more to his father the head-burrow, who shed a pint of tears as often as he saw him. What, says Mr. Leopold with his hands across, that was earnest to know the drift of it, will they slaughter all? I protest, I saw them, but this day morning going to the Liverpool boats, says he. I can scarce believe to so bad, says he. And he had experience of the like-brewed beasts and of springers, greasy hoggits and weather-wool, having been some years before actuary for Mr. Joseph Cuff, a worthy salesmaster that drove his trade for livestock and meadow auctions hard by Mr. Gavin Lowe's yard in Prussia Street. I question with you there, says he, more liked as the hooves or the timber-tongue. Mr. Stephen, a little moved, but very handsomely told him, no such matter, and that he had dispatches from the Emperor's chief tail-tickler thanking him for the hospitality that was sending over Dr. Rinderpest, the best-quoted cow-catcher in all Muscovy, with a bolus or two of physics to take the bull by the horns. Come, come, says Mr. Vincent, plain-dealing. He'll find himself on the horns of a dilemma if he middles with a bull that's Irish, says he. Irish by name and Irish by nature, says Mr. Stephen, and he sent the ale purling about, an Irish bull in an English china shop. I conceive you, says Mr. Dixon. It is that same bull that was sent to our island by Farmer Nicholas, the bravest cattle-breeder of them all with an emerald ring in his nose. True for you, says Mr. Vincent, across the table, and a bull's eye into the bargain, says he, and a plumper and a portlier bull, says he, never a shit on shamrock. He had horns galore, a coat of cloth of gold, and a sweet smoky breath coming out of his nostrils, so that the women of our island, leaving dough balls and rolling pins, followed after him hanging his bulliness in daisy chains. What for that, says Mr. Dixon, but before he came over to Farmer Nicholas, that was a eunuch had improperly gelded by a college of doctors who were no better off than himself. So be off now, says he, and do all my cousin German the Lord Harry tells you, and take a farmer's blessing, and with that he slapped his posteriors very soundly. But the slap in the blessing stood him friend, says Mr. Vincent, for to make up he taught him a trick worth two of the other, so that maid, wife, abbess, and widow to this day affirm that they would rather any time of the month whisper in his ear in the dark of a cowhouse, or get a lick on the nape from his long holy tongue, than lie with the finest strapping young ravisher in the four fields of all Ireland. Another then put in his word, and they dressed him, says he, in a point shift in petticoat with a tippet and girdle, and ruffles on his wrists, and clipped his forelock, and rubbed him all over with spermacetic oil, and built stables for him at every turn of the road, with a gold manger in each full of the best hay in the market, so that he could dose and dung to his heart's content. By this time the father of the faithful, for so they called him, was grown so heavy, that he could scarce walk to pasture. To remedy which our cozening dames and damsels brought him his fodder in their apron laps, and as soon as his belly was full he would rear up on his hind-quarters to show their ladyships a mystery, and roar and bellow out of him in bull's language, and they all after him. I, says another, and so pampered was he that he would suffer not to grow in all the land but green grass for himself, for that was the only color to his mind. And there was a board put up on a hillock in the middle of the island with a printed notice, saying, By the Lord Harry, green is the grass that grows on the ground. Anne says, Mr. Dixon, if ever he got sent of cattle-raider in Roscommon, or the wilds of Connemara, or a husbandman in Sligo that was sowing as much as a handful of mustard or a bag of rapeseed, out he'd run a muck over half the countryside, rooting up with his horns whatever was planted, and all by Lord Harry's orders. There was bad blood between them at first, says Mr. Vincent, and the Lord Harry called Farmer Nicholas, all the old nicks in the world, and an old whoremaster that kept seven trolls in his house, and all meddling his matters, says he. I'll make that animal smell hell, says he, with the help of that good-pizzle my father left me. But one evening, says Mr. Dixon, when the Lord Harry was cleaning his royal pelt to go to dinner after winning a boat race, he had spayed oars for himself, but the first rule of the course was that the others were to row with pitchforks. He discovered in himself a wonderful likeness to a bull, and on picking up a black-thumbed chap-book that he kept in the pantry, he found sure enough that he was a left-handed descendant of the famous champion bull of the Romans, Boss Bovum, which is good bog Latin for boss of the show. For that, says Mr. Vincent, the Lord Harry put his head into a cow's drinking trough in the presence of all his courtiers, and pulling it out again told them all his new name. Then with the water running off him he got into an old smock and skirt that he'd belonged to his grandmother, and bought a grammar of the bull's language to study, but he could never learn a word of it except the first personal pronoun which he copied out big and got off by heart, and if ever he went out for a walk he filled his pockets with chalk to write it upon what took his fancy, the sight of a rock or a tea-house table or a bale of cotton or a cork float. In short, he and the bull of Ireland were soon as fast friends as an arsonist shirt. They were, says Mr. Stephen, and the end was that the men of the island, seeing no help was toured, as the ungreat women were all of one mind, made a wary raft, loaded themselves in their bundles of chattels on ship-board, set all masts erect, manned the yards, sprang their luff, heaved two, spread three sheets in the wind, put her head between wind and water, weighed anchor, ported her helm, ran up the Jolly Roger, gave three times three, let the bull gin run, pushed off in their bumboat, and put to sea to recover the mane of America. Which was the occasion, says Mr. Vincent, of the composing by a boson of that rollicking chanty, Pope Peter's but a piss-a-bed, a man's a man for all that. Our worthy acquaintance, Mr. Malachi Mulligan, now appeared in the doorway as the students were finishing their apologue, accompanied with a friend whom he had just re-encountered. A young gentleman, his name Alec Bannon, who had late come to town, it being his intention to buy a color or a cornetsey in the fensibles, enlist for the wars. Mr. Mulligan was civil enough to express some relish of it, all the more as it jumped with a project of his own for the cure of the very evil that had been touched on. Whereat he handed round to the company a set of pasteboard cards which he had printed that day at Mr. Quinnell's, bearing a legend printed in pharatalex. Mr. Malachi Mulligan, fertilizer and incubator. Lambay Island. His project, as he went on to expound, was to withdraw from the round of idle pleasures such as form the chief business of Sir Fopping, Pop and Jay and Sir Milksop Quig Nunk in town, and to vote himself to the noblest task for which our bodily organism has been framed. Well, let us hear of it, good, my friend, said Mr. Dixon. I make no doubt its smacks of wenching. Come be seated, both, to his cheap sitting as standing. Mr. Mulligan accepted of the invitation, and, expatiating upon his design, told his hearers that he had been led into this thought by a consideration of the causes of sterility, both the inhibitory and the prohibitory, whether the inhibition in its turn were due to conjugal vexations, or to a parsimony of the balance as well as whether the prohibition proceeded from defects congenital or from proclivities acquired. It grieved him plagueily, he said, to see the nuptial couch defrauded of its dearest pledges, and to reflect upon so many agreeable females with rich jointures, a prey to the vilest bonzes, who hide their flambeau under a bushel in an uncongenial cloister, or lose their womenly bloom in the embraces of some unaccountable muskin, when they might multiply the inlets of happiness, sacrificing the inescapable jewel of their sex when a hundred pretty fellows were at hand to caress. This he assured them made his heart weep. To curb this inconvenient which he concluded due to a suppression of latent heat, having advised with certain counselors of worth and inspected into this matter, he had resolved to purchase in fee simple forever the freehold of Lambay Island from its holder Lord Talbot de Malahide, a Tory gentleman of note much in favor with our ascendancy party. He proposed to set up there a national fertilizing farm to be named Omphalos, with an obelisk hewn and erected after the fashion of Egypt, and to hold his dutiful yeoman services for the fecundation of any female of what grade of life soever, who should there direct to him with the desire of fulfilling the functions of her natural. Money was no object, he said, nor would he take a penny for his pains. The poorest kitchen-wench, no less than the opulent lady of fashion, if so be their constructions in their tempers, were warm persuaders for their petitions. Would find in him their man. For his nutriment he shooed how he would feed himself exclusively upon a diet of savory tubercles, and fish and conies there, the flesh of these latter prolific rodents being highly recommended for his purpose, both broiled and stewed with a blade of mace and a pot or two of capsicum chilies. After this homily, which he delivered with much warmth of asseveration, Mr. Mulligan in a trice put off from his hat a kerchief, with which he had shielded it. They both, it seems, had been overtaken by the rain, and for all their mending their pace had taken water, as might be observed by Mr. Mulligan's small clothes of a hudden gray, which was now somewhat pebald. His project, meanwhile, was very favorably entertained by his auditors, and won hardy eulogies from all, though Mr. Dixon of Mary's accepted to it, asking, with a finnicking air, did he propose also to carry coals to Newcastle. Mr. Mulligan, however, made court to the scholarly by an apt quotation from the classics, which, as it dwelt upon his memory, seemed to him a sound and tasteful support of his contention. Talis actanta depravatio, hudjus secular, o quirites, ut matres familiarum nostre lascivas, kudjus libet, semiviri, libici titillationes, testubus ponderosus, atque excelsis, erectionibus centurionum romanorum magnopere enti ponut. While for those of rude or wit, he drove home his point by analogies of the animal kingdom more suitable to their stomach, the buck and doe of the forest glade, the farmyard drake and duck. Valuing himself not a little upon his elegance, being indeed a proper man of person, this talkative now applied himself to his dress with animate versions of some heat upon the sudden whimsy of the atmospherics, while the company lavished their encomiums upon the project he had advanced. The young gentleman, his friend, overjoyed as he was at a passage that had late befallen him, could not forbear to tell it his nearest neighbor. Mr. Mulligan, now perceiving the table, asked for whom were those loaves and fishes, and, seeing the stranger, he made him a civil bow and said, Praise, sir, was you in need of any professional assistance we could give? Who upon his offer thanked him very heartily, though preserving his proper distance, and replied that he was come there about a lady, now an inmate of Horn's house, that was in an interesting condition, poor body, from women's woe, and here he fetched a deep sigh, to know if her happiness had yet taken place. Mr. Dixon, to turn the table, took on to ask of Mr. Mulligan himself whether his incipient ventrepetence upon which he rallied him, betokened an oval-blastic gestation in the prostatic utricle or male womb, or was due, as with the noted physician, Mr. Austin Meldon, to a wolf in the stomach. For answer, Mr. Mulligan, in a gale of laughter at his smalls, smote himself bravely below the diaphragm, exclaiming with an admirable droll mimic of Mother Grogan, the most excellent creature of her sex, though tis pity she's a trollop. There's a belly that never bore a bastard. This was so happy a conceit that it renewed the storm of mirth, and threw the whole room into the most violent agitations of delight. The spry rattle had run on in the same vein of mimicry, but for some larum in the antechamber. Here the listener, who was none other than the scotch student, a little fume of a fellow, blond as toe, congratulated in the liveliest fashion with the young gentleman, and interrupting the narrative at a salient point, having desired his vis-a-vis with a polite beck to have the obligingness to pass him a flagon of cordial waters at the same time by a questioning poise of the head. A whole century of polite breeding had not achieved so nice a gesture, to which was united an equivalent but contrary balance of the bottle, asked the narrator as plainly as was ever done in words if he might treat him with a cup of it. Mais bien sûr, noble stranger, said he cheerly, et me compliement. That you may end very opportunely. There wanted nothing but this cup to crown my felicity. But gracious heaven was I left with but a crust in my wallet and a cup full of water from the well. My God, I would accept of them, and find it in my heart to kneel down upon the ground, and give thanks to the powers above for the happiness vouchsafed me by the giver of good things. With these words he approached the goblet to his lips, took a complacent draft of the cordial, slicked his hair, and, opening his bosom, out popped a locket that hung from a silk ribbon, that very picture which he had cherished ever since her hand had wrote therein. Looking upon those features with a world of tenderness. Ah, Maiseur, he said, had you but beheld her as I did with these eyes at that affecting instant with her dainty tucker and her new coquette cap, a gift for her feast day, as she told me prettily, in such an artless disorder of so melting a tenderness upon my conscience even you, Maiseur, had been impelled by generous nature to deliver yourself wholly into the hands of such an enemy or to quit the field forever. I declare I was never so touched in all my life. God, I thank thee as the author of my days. Thrice happy will he be whom so amiable a creature will bless with her favors. A sigh of affection gave eloquence to these words, and, having replaced the locket in his bosom, he wiped his eye and sighed again. Beneficent disseminator of blessings to all thy creatures, how great and universal must be that sweetest of thy tyrannies which can hold and thrall the free and the bond, the simple swain and the polished cox-comb, the lover in the heyday of reckless passion and the husband of mature years. But indeed, sir, I wander from the point. How mingled and imperfect are all our sublimary joys. Maledicity, he exclaimed in anguish, would to God that foresight had but remembered me to take my cloak along. I could weep to think of it. Then, though it had poured seven showers, we were neither of us a penny the worse. But be shrew me, he cried, clapping hand to his forehead, tomorrow will be a new day, and, thousand thunders, I know of a march and decapotes, monsieur points, from whom I can have for a lever, as snug a cloak of the French fashion has ever kept a lady from wedding. Tuttutt! cries Le Fécond de Tour. Tripping in, my friend monsieur Moore, that most accomplished traveler, I have just cracked a half-bottle avec Louis in a circle of the best wits of the town, is my authority that in Cape Horn, Ventrebiche, they have a rain that will wet through any, even the stoutest cloak. A drenching of that violence, he tells me, sans blog, has sent more than one luckless fellow in good earnest post-haste to another world. Pou! a lever! cries monsieur Lynch. The clumsy things are dear at a zoo. One umbrella, where it no bigger than a fairy mushroom, is worth ten such stop-gaps. No woman of any wit would wear one. My dear Kitty told me to-day that she would dance in a deluge before ever she would starve in such an arc of salvation, for as she reminded me, blushing peacantly and whispering in my ear, though there was none to snap her words but giddy butterflies, dame nature by the divine blessing, has implanted it in our hearts, and it has become a household word that Iliadou shows, for which the innocence of our original garb, in other circumstances a breach of the proprieties, is the fittest, nay, the only The first, said she, and hear my pretty philosopher, as I handed her to the Tilbury, to fix my attention, gently tipped with her tongue the outer chamber of my ear, the first is a bath. But at this point a bell, tinkling in the hall, cut short a discourse which promised so bravely for the enrichment of our store of knowledge. Amid the general vacant hilarity of the assembly, a bell rang, and, while all were conjecturing what might be the cause, Miss Callan entered, and, having spoken a few words in a low tone to young Mr. Dixon, retired with a profound bow to the company. The presence, even for a moment among a party of debauchees of a woman endued with every quality of modesty and not less severe than beautiful, refrained the humorous sallies even of the most licentious, but her departure was the signal for an outbreak of ribaldry. Strike me silly, said Costello, a low fellow who was fuddled, a monstrous fine bit of cow flesh. I'll be sworn, she has rendezvoused you. What, you dog? Have you away with him? Gads, bud, immensely so, said Mr. Lynch. The bedside manner it is that they use in the mater hospice. Demi, does not Dr. O' Gargle chuck the nuns there under the chin? As I looked to be saved, I had it from my kitty who has been wardmaid there any time these seven months. Locks a mercy, doctor, cried the young blood in the room, rose vest, feigning a womanish simper and with immodest squirmings of his body. How you do tease a body! Drat the man! Bless me, I am all of a wibbly wobbly. Why, you're as bad as dear little father can't he kiss him? That you are. May this pot of four half choke me, cried Costello, if she ain't in the family way. I know as a lady what's got a white swelling quick as I collapse eyes on her. The young surgeon, however, rose and begged the company to excuse his retreat as the nurse had just then informed him that he was needed in the ward. Merciful Providence had been pleased to put a period to the sufferings of the lady who was ansiante, which she had borne with a laudable fortitude, and she had given birth to a bouncing boy. I want patience, said he, with those who, without wit to enliven or learning to instruct, revile and ennobling profession, which, saving the reverence due to the deity, is the greatest power for happiness upon the earth. I am positive when I say that if need were I could produce a cloud of witnesses to the excellence of her noble exorcitations which, so far from being a byword, should be a glorious incentive in the human breast. I cannot away with them. What! Maline, such in one, the amiable Miss Callan, who is the luster of her own sex in the astonishment of ours, and at an instant the most momentous that can befall a puny child of clay, perished the thought. I shudder to think of the future of a race where the seeds of such malice have been sown and where no right reverence is rendered to mother and maid in house of horn. Having delivered himself of this rebuke, he saluted those present on the by and repaired to the door. A murmur of approval arose from all, and some were for ejecting the low soaker without more ado, a design which would have been effected, nor would he have received more than his bare deserts, had he not abridged his transgression by affirming with a horrid imprecation, for he swore around hand that he was as good a son of the true fold as ever drew breath. Stap my vital said he, then was always the sentiments of honest Frank Costello, which I was bred up most particular to honor thy father and thy mother, that had the best hand to a roly-poly, or a hasty pudding, as you ever see what I always looks back on with a loving heart. End of section 35, recording by Richard Wallace, Liberty, Missouri, October 21st, 2010.