ery family。 Hardy annuals he presents her with。 Saw him out at the Three Jolly Topers marching along bareheaded and his eldest boy carrying one in a marketnet。 The squallers。 Poor thing！ Then having to give the breast year after year all hours of the night。 Selfish those t。t's are。 Dog in the manger。 Only one lump of sugar in my tea； if you please。
He stood at Fleet street crossing。 Luncheon interval a sixpenny at Rowe's？ Must look up that ad in the national library。 An eightpenny in the Burton。 Better。 On my way。
He walked on past Bolton's Westmoreland house。 Tea。 Tea。 Tea。 I forgot to tap Tom Kernan。
Sss。 Dth； dth； dth！ Three days imagine groaning on a bed with a vinegared handkerchief round her forehead； her belly swollen out！ Phew！ Dreadful simply！ Child's head too big： forceps。 Doubled up inside her trying to butt its way out blindly； groping for the way out。 Kill me that would。 Lucky Molly got over hers lightly。 They ought to invent something to stop that。 Life with hard labour。 Twilightsleep idea： queen Victoria was given that。 Nine she had。 A good layer。 Old woman that lived in a shoe she had so many children。 Suppose he was consumptive。 Time someone thought about it instead of gassing about the what was it the pensive bosom of the silver effulgence。 Flapdoodle to feed fools on。 They could easily have big establishments。 Whole thing quite painless out of all the taxes give every child born five quid at pound interest up to twentyone； five per cent is a hundred shillings and five tiresome pounds； multiply by twenty decimal system； encourage people to put by money save hundred and ten and a bit twentyone years want to work it out on paper e to a tidy sum； more than you think。
Not stillborn of course。 They are not even registered。 Trouble for nothing。
Funny sight two of them together； their bellies out。 Molly and Mrs Moisel。 Mothers' meeting。 Phthisis retires for the time being； then returns。 How flat they look after all of a sudden！ Peaceful eyes。 Weight off their minds。 Old Mrs Thornton was a jolly old soul。 All my babies； she said。 The spoon of pap in her mouth before she fed them。 O； that's nyumyum。 Got her hand crushed by old Tom Wall's son。 His first bow to the public。 Head like a prize pumpkin。 Snuffy Dr Murren。 People knocking them up at all hours。 For God'sake doctor。 Wife In her throes。 Then keep them waiting months for their fee。 To attendance on your wife。 No gratitude in people。 Humane doctors； most of them。
Before the huge high door of the Irish house of parliament a flock of pigeons flew。 Their little frolic after meals。 Who will we do it on？ I pick the fellow in black。 Here goes。 Here's good luck。 Must be thrilling from the air。 Apjohn； myself and Owen Goldberg up in the trees near Goose green playing the monkeys。 Mackerel they called me。
A squad of constables debouched from College street； marching in Indian file。 Goose step。 Foodheated faces； sweating helmets； patting their truncheons。 After their feed with a good load of fat soup under their belts。 Policeman's lot is oft a happy one。 They split up into groups and scattered； saluting towards their beats。 Let out to graze。 Best moment to attack one in pudding time。 A punch in his dinner。 A squad of others； marching irregularly； rounded Trinity railings； making for the station。 Bound for their troughs。 Prepare to receive cavalry。 Prepare to receive soup。
He crossed under Tommy Moore's roguish finger。 They did right to put him up over a urinal： meeting of the waters。 Ought to be places for women。 Running into cakeshops。 Settle my hat straight。 There is not in this wide world a vallee。 Great song of Julia Morkan's。 Kept her voice up to the very last。 Pupil of Michael Balfe's wasn't she？
He gazed after the last broad tunic。 Nasty customers to tackle。 Jack Power could a tale unfold： father a G man。 If a fellow gave them trouble being lagged they let him have it hot and heavy in the bridewell。 Can't blame them after all with the job they have especially the young hornies。 That horse policeman the day Joe Chamberlain was given his degree in Trinity he got a run for his money。 My word he did！ His horse's hoofs clattering after us down Abbey street。 Luck I had the presence of mind to dive into Manning's or I was souped。 He did e a wallop； by George。 Must have cracked his skull on the cobblestones。 I oughtn't to have got myself swept along with those medicals。 And the Trinity jibs in their mortar…boards。 Looking for trouble。 Still I got to know that young Dixon who dressed that sting for me in the Mater and now he's in Holles street where Mrs Purefoy。 Wheels within wheels。 Police whistle in my ears still。 All skedaddled。 Why he fixed on me。 Give me in charge。 Right here it began。
Up the Boers！
Three cheers for De Wet！
We'll hang Joe Chamberlain on a sourapple tree。
Silly billies： mob of young cubs yelling their guts out。 Vinegar hill。 The Butter exchange band。 Few years' time half of them magistrates and civil servants。 War es on： into the army helterskelter： same fellows used to whether on the scaffold high。
Never know who you're talking to。 Corny Kelleher he has Harvey Duff in his eye。 Like that Peter or Denis or James Carey that blew the gaff on the invincibles。 Member of the corporation too。 Egging raw youths on to get in the know。 All the time drawing secret service pay from the castle。 Drop him like a hot potato。 Why those plain clothes men are always courting slaveys。 Easily twig a man used to uniform。 Square…pushing up against a backdoor。 Maul her a bit。 Then the next thing on the menu。 And who is the gentleman does be visiting there？ Was the young master saying anything？ Peeping Tom through the keyhole。 Decoy duck。 Hotblooded young student fooling round her fat arms ironing。
Are those yours； Mary？
I don't wear such things。。。 Stop or I'll tell the missus on you。 Out half the night。
There are great times ing； Mary。 Wait till you see。
Ah； get along with your great times ing。 Barmaids too。 Tobacco shopgirls。
James Stephens' idea was the best。 He knew them。 Circles of ten so that a fellow couldn't round on more than his own ring。 Sinn Fein。 Back out you get the knife。 Hidden hand。 Stay in； the firing squad。 Turnkey's daughter got him out of Richmond； off from Lusk。 Putting up in the Buckingham Palace hotel under their very noses。 Garibaldi。
You must have a certain fascination： Parnell； Arthur Griffith is a squareheaded fellow but he has no go in him for the mob。 Want to gas about our lovely land。 Gammon and spinach。 Dublin Bakery pany's tearoom。 Debating societies。 That republicanism is the best form of government。 That the language question should take precedence of the economic question。 Have your daughters inveigling them to your house。 Stuff them up with meat and drink。 Michaelmas goose。 Here's a good lump of thyme seasoning under the apron for you。 Have another quart of goosegrease before it gets too cold。 Halffed enthusiasts。 Penny roll and a walk with the band。 No grace for the carver。 The thought that the other chap pays best sauce in the world。 Make themselves thoroughly at home。 Shove us over those apricots； meaning peaches。 The not far distant day。 Home Rule sun rising up in the northwest。
His smile faded as he walked； a heavy cloud hiding the sun slowly； shadowing Trinity's surly front。 Trams passed one another； ingoing； outgoing； clanging。 Useless words。 Things go on same； day after day： squads of police marching out； back： trams in； out。 Those two loonies mooching about。 Dignam carted off。 Mina Purefoy swollen belly on a bed groaning to have a child tugged out of her。 One born every second somewhere。 Other dying every second。 Since I fed the birds five minutes。 Three hundred kicked the bucket。 Other three hundred born； washing the blood off； all are washed in the blood of the lamb； bawling maaaaaa。
Cityful passing away； other cityful ing； passing away too： other ing on； passing on。 Houses； lines of houses； streets； miles of pavements； piledup bricks； stones。 Changing hands。 This owner； that。 Landlord never dies they say。 Other steps into his shoes when he gets his notice to quit。 They buy the place up with gold and still they have all the gold。 Swindle in it somewhere。 Piled up in cities； worn away age after age。 Pyramids in sand。 Built on bread and onions。 Slaves。 Chinese wall。 Babylon。 Big stones left。 Round towers。 Rest rubble； sprawling suburbs； jerrybuilt； Kerwan's mushroom houses； built of breeze。 Shelter for the night。
No one is anything。
This is the very worst hour of the day。 Vitality。 Dull； gloomy： hate this hour。 Feel as if I had been eaten and spewed。
Provost's house。 The reverend Dr Salmon： tinned salmon。 Well tinned in there。 Wouldn't live in it if they paid me。 Hope they have liver and bacon today。 Nature abhors a vacuum。
The sun freed itself slowly and lit glints of light among the silver ware in Walter Sexton's window opposite by which John Howard Parnell passed； unseeing。
There he is： the brother。 Image of him。 Haunting face。 Now that's a coincidence。 Course hundreds of times you think of a person and don't meet him。 Like a man walking in his sleep。 No…one knows him。 Must be a corporation meeting today。 They say he never put on the city marshal's uniform since he got the job。 Charley Boulger used to e out on his high horse； cocked hat； puffed； powdered and shaved。 Look at the woebegone walk of him。 Eaten a bad egg。 Poached eyes on ghost。 I have a pain。 Great man's brother： his brother's brother。 He'd look nice on the city charger。 Drop into the D。 B。 C。 probably for his coffee； play chess there。 His brother used men as pawns。 Let them all go to pot。 Afraid to pass a remark on him。 Freeze them up with that eye of his。 That's the fascination： the name。 All a bit touched。 Mad Fanny and his other sister Mrs Dickinson driving about with scarlet harness。 Bolt upright like surgeon M'Ardle。 Still David Sheehy beat him for south Meath。 Apply for the Chiltern Hundreds and retire into public life。 The patriot's banquet。 Eating orangepeels in the park。 Simon Dedalus said when they put him in parliament that Parnell would e back from the grave and lead him out of the House of mons by the arm。
Of the twoheaded octopus； one of whose heads is the head upon which the ends of the world have forgotten