尤利西斯-第69章

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es　on　fire。　It　can't　be　tourists'　matches。　What？　Perhaps　the　sticks　dry　rub　together　in　the　wind　and　light。　Or　broken　bottles　in　the　furze　act　as　a　burning　glass　in　the　sun。　Archimedes。　I　have　it！　My　memory's　not　so　bad。　
Ba。　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；　e　back　to　see。　Birds　too　never　find　out　what　they　say。　Like　our　small　talk。　And　says　she　and　says　he。　Nerve？　they　have　to　fly　over　the　ocean　and　back。　Lot　must　be　killed　in　storms；　telegraph　wires。　Dreadful　life　sailors　have　too。　Big　brutes　of　ocean…going　steamers　floundering　along　in　the　dark；　lowing　out　like　seacows。　Faugh　a　ballagh。　Out　of　that；　bloody　curse　to　you。　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　es　marching　home　again。　If　ever　he　does。　Smelling　the　tail　end　of　ports。　How　can　they　like　the　sea？　Yet　they　do。　The　anchor's　weighed。　Off　he　sails　with　a　scapular　or　a　medal　on　him　for　luck。　Well？　And　the　tephilim　no　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　astride　of　a　beam　for　grim　life；　life…belt　round　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；　Davy　Jones'　locker。　Moon　looking　down。　Not　my　fault；　old　cockalorum。　
A　lost　long　candle　wandered　up　the　sky　from　Mirus　bazaar　in　search　of　funds　for　Mercer's　hospital　and　broke；　drooping；　and　sheda　cluster　of　violet　but　one　white　stars。　They　floated；　fell：　they　faded。　The　shepherd's　hour：　the　hour　of　holding：　hour　of　tryst。　From　house　to　house；　giving　his　everwele　double　knock；　went　the　nine　o'clock　postman；　the　glowworm's　lamp　at　his　belt　gleaming　here　and　there　through　the　laurel　hedges。　And　among　the　five　young　trees　a　hoisted　lintstock　lit　the　lamp　at　Leahy's　terrace。　By　screens　of　lighted　windows；　by　equal　gardens　a　shrill　voice　went　crying；　wailing：　Evening　Telegraph；　stop　press　edition！　Result　of　the　Gold　Cup　race！　and　from　the　door　of　Dignam's　house　a　boy　ran　out　and　called。　Twittering　the　bat　flew　here；　flew　there。　Far　out　over　the　sands　the　ing　surf　crept；　grey。　Howth　settled　for　slumber　tired　of　long　days；　of　yumyum　rhododendrons　（he　was　old）　and　felt　gladly　the　night　breeze　lift；　ruffle　his　fell　of　ferns。　He　lay　but　opened　a　red　eye　unsleeping；　deep　and　slowly　breathing；　slumberous　but　awake。　And　far　on　Kish　bank　the　anchored　lightship　twinkled；　winked　at　Mr　Bloom。　
Life　those　chaps　out　there　must　have；　stuck　in　the　same　spot。　Irish　Lights　board。　Penance　for　their　sins。　Coastguards　too。　Rocket　and　breeches　buoy　and　lifeboat。　Day　we　went　out　for　the　pleasure　cruise　in　the　Erin's　King；　throwing　them　the　sack　of　old　papers。　Bears　in　the　zoo。　Filthy　trip。　Drunkards　out　to　shake　up　their　livers。　Puking　overboard　to　feed　the　herrings。　Nausea。　And　the　women；　fear　of　God　in　their　faces。　Milly；　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　Crumlin。　I　didn't　want　to。　Mamma！　Mamma！　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？　Or　children　playing　battle。　Whole　earnest。　How　can　people　aim　guns　at　each　other？　Sometimes　they　go　off。　Poor　kids。　Only　troubles　wildfire　and　nettlerash。　Calomel　purge　I　got　her　for　that。　After　getting　better　asleep　with　Molly。　Very　same　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　Papli。　All　that　the　hand　says　when　you　touch。　Loved　to　count　my　waistcoat　buttons。　Her　first　stays　I　remember。　Made　me　laugh　to　see。　Little　paps　to　begin　with。　Left　one　is　more　sensitive；　I　think。　Mine　too。　Nearer　the　heart。　Padding　themselves　out　if　fat　is　in　fashion。　Her　growing　pains　at　night；　calling；　wakening　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　gentleman　with　a　private　yacht。　Buenos　noches；　se？orita。　El　hombre　ama　la　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　Leoh；　Lily　of　Killarney。　No。　Might　be　still　up。　Call　to　the　hospital　to　see。　Hope　she's　over。　Long　day　I've　had。　Martha；　the　bath；　funeral；　house　of　keys；　museum　with　those　goddesses；　Dedalus'　song。　Then　that　bawler　in　Barney　Kiernan's。　Got　my　own　back　there。　Drunken　ranters。　What　I　said　about　his　God　made　him　wince。　Mistake　to　hit　back。　Or？　No。　Ought　to　go　home　and　laugh　at　themselves。　Always　want　to　be　swilling　in　pany。　Afraid　to　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　meant。　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　e　to　town。　Imagine　that　in　the　early　morning　at　close　range。　Everyone　to　his　taste　as　Morris　said　when　he　kissed　the　cow。　But　Dignam's　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　Cramer's　that　looked　at　me。　Buried　the　poor　husband　but　progressing　favourably　on　the　premium。　Her　widow's　mite。　Well？　What　do　you　expect　her　to　do？　Must　wheedle　her　way　along。　Widower　I　hate　to　see。　Looks　so　forlorn。　Poor　man　O'Connor　wife　and　five　children　poisoned　by　mussels　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　a　pair；　astonishing　bargain。　Plain　and　loved；　loved　for　ever；　they　say。　Ugly：　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。　U。　p。：　up。　Fate　that　is。　He；　not　me。　Also　a　shop　often　noticed。　Curse　seems　to　dog　it。　Dreamt　last　night？　Wait。　Something　confused。　She　had　red　slippers　on。　Turkish。　Wore　the　breeches。　Suppose　she　does。　Would　I　like　her　in　pyjamas？　Damned　hard　to　answer。　Nannetti's　gone。　Mailboat。　Near　Holyhead　by　now。　Must　nail　that　ad　of　Keyes's。　Work　Hynes　and　Crawford。　Petticoats　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　copybook。　All　those　holes　and　pebbles。　Who　could　count　them？　Never　know　what　you　find。　Bottle　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。　
O！　Exhausted　that　female　has　me。　Not　so　young　now。　Will　she　e　here　tomorrow？　Wait　for　her　somewhere　for　ever。　Must　e　back。　Murderers　do。　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　flatfoot　tramp　on　it　in　the　morning。　Useless。　Washed　away。　Tide　es　here　a　pool　near　her　foot。　Bend；　see　my　face　there；　dark　mirror；　breathe　on　it；　stirs。　All　these　rocks　with　lines　and　scars　and　letters。　O；　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。　
AM。　A。　
No　room。　Let　it　go。　
Mr　Bloom　effaced　the　letters　with　his　slow　boot。　Hopeless　thing　sand。　Nothing　grows　in　it。　All　fades。　No　fear　of　big　vessels　ing　up　here。　Except　Guinness's　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。　Chance。　We'll　never　meet　again。　But　it　was　lovely。　Goodbye；　dear。　Thanks。　Made　me　feel　so　young。　
Short　snooze　now　if　I　had。　Must　be　near　nine。　Liverpool　boat　long　gone。　Not　even　the　smoke。　And　she　can　do　the　other。　Did　too。　And　Belfast。　I　won't　go。　Race　there；　race　back　to　Ennis。　Let　him。　Just　close　my　eyes　a　moment。　Won't　sleep　though。　Half　dream。　It　never　es　the　same。　Bat　again。　No　harm　in　him。　Just　a　few。　
O　sweety　all　your　little　girlwhite　up　I　saw　dirty　bracegirdle　made　me　do　love　sticky　we　two　naughty　Grace　darling　she　him　half　past　the　bed　met　him　pike　hoses　frillies　for　Raoul　to　perfume　your　wife　black　hair　heave　under　embon　se？orita　young　eyes　Mulvey　plump　years　dreams　return　tail　end　Agendath　swoony　lovey　showed　me　her　next　year　in　drawers　return　next　in　her　next　her　next。　
A　bat　flew。　Here。　There。　Here。　Far　in　the　grey　a　bell　chimed。　Mr　Bloom　with　open　mouth；　his　left　boot　sanded　sideways；　leaned；　breathed。　Just　for　a　few。　
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
The　clock　on　the　mantelpiece　in　the　priest's　house　cooed　where　Canon　O'Hanlon　and　Father　Conroy　and　the　reverend　John　Hughes　S。　J。　were　taking　tea　and　sodabread　and　butter　and　fried　mutton　chops　with　catsup　and　talking　about　
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Because　it　was　a　little　canarybird　bird　that　came　out　of　its　little　house　to　tell　the　time　that　Gerty　MacDowell　noticed　the　time　she　was　there　because　she　was　as　quick　as　anything　about　a　thing　like　that；　was　Gerty　MacDowell；　and　she　noticed　at　once　that　that　foreign　gentleman　that　was　sitting　on　the　rocks　looking　was　
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Cuckoo
Oxen　of　the　Sun
DESHIL　HOLLES　EAMUS。　DESHIL　HOLLES　EAMUS。　DESHIL　HOLES　Eamus。　
Send　us；　bright　one；　light　one；　Horhorn；　quickening　and　wombfruit。　Send　us；　bright　one；　light　one；　Horhorn；　quickening　and　wombfruit。　Send　us　bright　one；　light　one；　Horhorn；　quickening　and　wombfruit。　
Hoopsa；　boyaboy；　hoopsa！　Hoopsa；　hoyaboy；　hoopsa！　Hoopsa；　boyaboy；　hoopsa。　
Universally　that　person's　acumen　is　esteemed　very　little　perceptive　concerning　whatsoever　matters　are　being　held　as　most　profitable　by　mortals　with　sapience　endowed　to　be　studied　who　is　ignorant　of　that　which　the　most　in　doctrine　erudite　and　certainly　by　reason　of　that　in　them　high　mind's　ornament　deserving　of　veneration　constantly　maintain　when　by　general　consent　they　affirm　that　other　circumstances　being　equal　by　no　exterior　splendou