Ulysses Reader

No families themselves to feed. Living on the fat of the land. Their butteries and larders. I'd like to see them do the black fast Yom Kippur. Crossbuns. One meal and a collation for fear

That's in their theology or the priest won't give the poor woman the confession, the absolution. Increase and multiply. Did you ever hear such an idea? Eat you out of house and home.

selling off some old furniture. Knew her eyes at once from the father. Lobbing about waiting for him. Home always breaks up when the mother goes. Fifteen children he had. Birth every year almost.

Very good for the brain. From Butler's monument house corner he glanced along Bachelor's walk. Dedalus' daughter there still outside Dillon's auctionrooms. Must be

Don't like all the smells in it waiting to rush out. What was it she wanted? The Malaga raisins. Thinking of Spain. Before Rudy was born. The phosphorescence, that bluey greeny.

Iron nails ran in. Phosphorus it must be done with. If you leave a bit of codfish for instance. I could see the bluey silver over it. Night I went down to the pantry in the kitchen.

His wife will put the stopper on that. Where was that ad some Birmingham firm the luminous crucifix. Our Saviour. Wake up in the dead of night and see him on the wall, hanging. Pepper's ghost idea.

Dr John Alexander Dowie restorer of the church in Zion is coming. Is coming! Is coming!! Is coming!!! All heartily welcome. Paying game. Torry and Alexander last year. Polygamy.

All are washed in the blood of the lamb. God wants blood victim. Birth, hymen, martyr, war, foundation of a building, sacrifice, kidney burntoffering, druids' altars. Elijah is coming.

Graham Lemon's, placed a throwaway in a hand of Mr Bloom. Heart to heart talks. Bloo... Me? No. Blood of the Lamb. His slow feet walked him riverward, reading. Are you saved?

Lozenge and comfit manufacturer to His Majesty the King. God. Save. Our. Sitting on his throne sucking red jujubes white. A sombre Y.M.C.A. young man, watchful among the warm sweet fumes of

truth was known. Pineapple rock, lemon platt, butter scotch. A sugarsticky girl shovelling scoopfuls of creams for a christian brother. Some school treat. Bad for their tummies.

FLO WANGLES—YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM? —Onehandled adulterer, he said smiling grimly. That tickles me, I must say. —Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said, if the God Almighty's

He halted on sir John Gray's pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson through the meshes of his wry smile. DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. ANNE WIMBLES,

We gave him that idea, he added to J. J. O'Molloy. HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY J. J. O'Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and held his peace. —I see, the professor said.

I call it A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the Parable of The Plums. —I see, the professor said. He laughed richly. —I see, he said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land.

SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES. —Call it, wait, the professor said, opening his long lips wide to reflect. Call it, let me see. Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit. —No, Stephen said.

rattling crates of bottles, rattled, rolled, horsedrawn, rapidly. WHAT?—AND LIKEWISE—WHERE? —But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the plums? VIRGILIAN, SAYS PEDAGOGUE.

all still, becalmed in short circuit. Hackney cars, cabs, delivery waggons, mailvans, private broughams, aerated mineral water floats with

trolleys stood in their tracks, bound for or from Rathmines, Rathfarnham, Blackrock, Kingstown and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount Tower, Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines,