#Townlands Of Dublin

[streetsofdublin]

MY REGULAR WALK ALONG A SECTION OF DUNDRUM ROAD

Windy Arbour is surrounded by several housing estates, including Columbanus. At the centre of Windy Arbour is the smaller and much older townland of Farranboley, which appears on maps dating from the 18th century.

WINDY ARBOUR VILLAGE AND NEARBY I pass through Wind Arbour Village twice every Tuesday and Saturday. Windy Arbour is surrounded by several housing estates, including Columbanus. At the centre of Windy Arbour is the smaller and much older townland of Farranboley, which appears on maps dating from the 18th century. The name of the area was originally Irish Na Glasáin, “the green land”; this was…

View On WordPress

#2023 #Area #areas of dublin #Dundrum Road #Farranboley #Fotonique #FX30 #Glassons #housing estates #Infomatique #Ireland #july #Na Glasáin #Sandy Arbour #Sony #Townlands Of Dublin #Village #William Murphy #Windy Arbour #Windy Harbour

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1967 – Death of poet and novelist, Patrick Kavanagh, who was born in Inniskeen, Co Monaghan in 1904.

Patrick Kavanagh was born on 21 October 1904, in Mucker townland, Inniskeen parish, Co Monaghan, the son of James Kavanagh, a small farmer with sixteen acres who was also a cobbler, and Bridget Quinn. He attended Kednaminsha National School from 1909 to 1916 and worked on the family farm after leaving school. His poem ‘Raglan Road’, written to be sung, was performed by The Dubliners, and still…

View On WordPress

#Co. Monaghan #Grand Canal #Inniskeen parish #Mucker townland #Novelist #Patrick Kavanagh #Poet #Raglan Road #The Dubliners #Youtube

[greysbed]

Wexford longphort

WEXFORD LONGPHORT PLUS

The town and county of Longford in Ireland are anglicizations of the Irish equivalent “longfort”. This may suggest that at some point in history there may have been a longphort situated there, as is attested in some examples. There are many towns and townlands in Ireland whose names bear some element of Longphort in them.

WEXFORD LONGPHORT PLUS

This compound word was likely coined by Irish monks from the Latin word "longus" (long) reflecting the Old Norse "lang" (long), thus implying "lang skip" (long ship) plus the Latin "portus", meaning port, harbour. of Dublin, Wexford, Waterford, Cork, and Limerick are generally regarded as. The term longphort, or longphuit in Irish as seen in the annals, literally translates to “ship camp”. longphort at Cork was captured, while the assault on Dublin in 902 was so. Many camps along river banks and lakes did not last long, however, some only as little as one or two seasons, but others such as Dublin developed into large urban centers, as did the other significant Norse settlements at Cork, Waterford, Wexford and Limerick which remain the largest urban centers in Ireland today. It also describes new Viking settlements established at Waterford in 914 and Limerick in 922 possibly by the Uí Ímair. Bertin with the establishment of Viking encampments at Linn Duachaill and Dublin. The word was first used in the 840s in the Irish account of The Annals of Ulster and in the Frankish account in the Annals of St. Overall, the longphort settlements were essential in establishing the presence of the Vikings in Ireland during the ninth and tenth centuries. During this time, the Vikings were able to begin a period of extremely profitable trade. Archeological evidence shows that imports and exports included textiles, animal skins, amber, and glass from England. For example, it is clear that the earliest settlements became major trading centers throughout Ireland. Longphorts were essential to the economic prosperity of the Vikings. It can be assumed that the purpose of these sites was to ease travel and trade within the region. These camps would be of great importance to the Vikings during their raids of Ireland, which included attacks on many churches and monasteries located on the coast. The sites were easily defended, sheltered, and gave immediate access to the sea. These camps were fortified areas along rivers, usually at a tributary where both sides were protected such that the Vikings could port ships. The reason it cannot be assumed that longphorts were solely for military purposes as that would assume that there were always large numbers of Vikings at these settlements, which is not true. The Nordic language survived in these places until the end of the 12th century. Predominant among these are: Cork, Dublin, Limerick, Waterford, and Wexford. Although it can be assumed that the longphorts were used as bases for Viking raids, it is clear that the term had multiple meanings and that these sites had multiple purposes. The Viking longphorts later developed into centres of trade, becoming the first towns in Ireland. longphuirt) is a term used in Ireland for a Viking ship enclosure or shore fortress.

#Wexford longphort

[goalhofer]

2020 Olympics Ireland Roster

Boxing

Brendan Irvine (Belfast, U.K.)

Kurt Walker (Lisburn, U.K.)

Aidan Walsh (Belfast, U.K.)

Emmett Brennan (Dublin)

Kellie Harrington (Dublin)

Michaela Walsh (Belfast, U.K.)

Aoife O’Rourke (Castlerea)

Canoeing

Liam Jegou (Huningue, France)

Gymnastics

Rhys McClenaghan (Dublin)

Meg Ryan (Cork)

Pentathlon

Natalya Coyle (Dublin)

Sailing

Robert Dickson (Dublin)

Sean Waddilove (Dublin)

Annalise Murphy (Rathfarnham)

Swimming

Daniel Wiffen (Armagh)

Darragh Greene (Dublin)

Shane Ryan (Haverford Township, Pennsylvania)

Brendan Hyland (Dublin)

Finn McGeever (Ballina)

Jack McMillan (Belfast, U.K.)

Mona McSharry (Camp)

Danielle Hill (Newtownabbey, U.K.)

Ellen Walshe (Dublin)

Taekwondo

Jack Woolley (Dublin)

Athletics

Marcus Lawler (Carlow)

Leon Reid (Bath, U.K.)

Mark English (Letterkenny)

Andrew Coscoran (Balbriggan)

Thomas Barr (Dunmore East)

David Kenny (Farranfore)

Brendan Boyce (Letterkenny)

Alex Wright (London, U.K.)

Dr. Paul Pollock (Holywood, U.K.)

Stephen Scullion (Belfast, U.K.)

Kevin Seaward (Anstey, U.K.)

Cillin Greene (Dublin)

Chris O’Donnell (Sligo)

Phil Healy (Ballineen)

Síofra Büttner-Cléirigh (Dublin)

Nadia Power (Dublin)

Louise Shanahan (Cork)

Sarah Healy (Monkstown)

Ciara Mageean (Portaferry, U.K.)

Sarah Lavin (Lisnagry Townland)

Michelle Finn (Castlemagner)

Eilish Flanagan (Gortin)

Aoife Cooke (Cork)

Fionnuala McCormack (Wicklow)

Sophie Becker (Wexford)

Badminton

Nguyễn Nhật (Dublin)

Cycling

Eddie Dunbar (Banteer)

Dan Martin (Girona, Spain)

Nicho Roche (Conflans-Sainte-Honorine, France)

Mark Downey (Dromore, U.K.)

Felix English (Brighton, U.K.)

Emily Kay (Bromsgrove, U.K.)

Shannon McCurley (Melbourne, Australia)

Diving

Oliver Dingley (Harrowgate, U.K.)

Tanya Watson (Dublin)

Equestrian

Austin O’Connor (Cork)

Sam Watson (Clonmel)

Bertram Allen (Hünxe, Germany)

Darragh Kenny (Belmont)

Cian O’Connor (Navan)

Shane Sweetnam (Wellington, Florida)

Heike Holstein (Dublin)

Sarah Ennis (Dunboyne)

Field Hockey

Elizabeth Murphy (Dublin)

Ayeisha McFerran (Larne)

Zara Malseed (Dublin)

Michelle Carey (Dublin)

Roisin Upton (Limerick)

Nikki Evans (Clonskeagh)

Katie Mullan (Coleraine)

Shirley McCay (Drumquin)

Megan Frazer (Derry, U.K.)

Lena Tice (Basingstoke, U.K.)

Naomi Carroll (Cratloe)

Hannah McLoughlin (Dublin)

Chloe Watkins (Killiney)

Lizzie Colvin (Portadown)

Nikki Daly (Dublin)

Hannah Matthews (Dublin)

Sarah Hawkshaw (Dublin)

Anna O’Flanagan (Rathgar)

Deirdre Duke (Ballycanew)

Sarah McAuley (Dublin)

Golf

Shane Lowry (Jupiter, Florida)

Rory McIlroy (Jupiter, Florida)

Leona Maguire (Cavan)

Stephanie Meadow (Jordanstown, U.K.)

Judo

Benjamin Fletcher (Wokingham, U.K.)

Megan Fletcher (Wokingham, U.K.)

Rowing

Ronan Byrne (Cork)

Philip Doyle (Banbridge, U.K.)

Fintan McCarthy (Skibbereen)

Paul O’Donovan (Lisheen)

Sanita Pušpure (Ballincollig)

Aoife Casey (Cork)

Margaret Cremen (Rochestown)

Aileen Crowley (Killorglin)

Monika Dukarska (Killorglin)

Aifric Keogh (Furbo)

Eimear Lambe (Cabra)

Fiona Murtagh (Galway)

Emily Hegarty (Skibbareen)

Rugby

Jack Kelly (Dublin)

Adam Leavy (Dublin)

Harry McNulty (Cashel)

Foster Horan (Gorey)

Ian Fitzpatrick (Ratoath)

Billy Dardis (Dublin)

Jordan Conroy (Tullamore)

Greg O’Shea (Limerick)

Mark Roche (Dublin)

Terry Kennedy (Dublin)

Hugo Lennox (Maynooth)

Gavin Mullin (Dublin)

Bryan Mollen (Dublin)

Shooting

Derek Burnett (Westmeath)

Triathlon

Russell White (Banbridge, U.K.)

Carolyn Hayes (Wicklow)

#Sports #National Teams #Ireland #Fights #Boxing #U.K. #Races #Boats #France #Pennsylvania #Spain #Australia #Animals #Germany #Florida #Hockey #Golf

[corkcitylibraries]

Genealogy Series | Part 3

A step-by-step guide to researching your family tree by Senior Library Assistant, Johnathon Fehily

This is a four-part series, appearing every Thursday for the month of January. This week Johnathon looks at civil and census records.

Civil records of births, marriages and deaths.

All births, marriages and deaths in Ireland have been recorded by the state since 1 January 1864. Non-Catholic marriages have been recorded by the state since 1845. The General Register Office in Dublin has copies of birth, marriage and death registers for all of Ireland, excepting the six counties of Northern Ireland. The registers for Cork city and its hinterland are in the Registration Office of the Health Services Executive - Southern Area at Adelaide Court, Adelaide Street, Cork. Information included on Civil records can be viewed below:

-Information provided on a birth certificate:

Name of the child, date and location of birth

Names of the parents, their address and mother’s maiden name

Occupation of father

Name of the person who registered the birth, their address and the date

 -Information provided on a marriage certificate:

Names of the bride and groom, their ages (note: full age denotes over 21) and their addresses at the time of the marriage

Date and location of the marriage, and date of registration

The occupations of the bride and groom

Names of both fathers, and their occupations

Names of the witnesses to the marriage

 -Information provided on a death certificate:

Name of the deceased, sex, age, occupation and marital status

Date and place of death, and registration date

Cause of death

Name and address of the informant (person who registered the death)

 Irish Genealogy – Civil Records Section

The Irish Genealogy found at www.irishgenealogy.ie is a website that allows users the opportunity to search a wide range of record sources in their search of their Irish Ancestry. The website is home to the on-line historic Indexes of the Civil Registers (GRO) of Births, Marriages, Civil Partnerships and Deaths. The site is maintained and run by the Department of Culture Heritage and the Gaeltacht. The digitisation of the entirety of the states Civil Records from a set variation of years affords researchers detailed records into their ancestry which can be located efficiently through the search function on the civil records section of the website. The search function allows genealogists to search for individuals using name, civil registration office, date range and record type. The vast majority of records also contain a link to scanned copies of the original document as well as a transcription page. While the vast majority of births marriages and records should have civil records, there are of course exceptions so one should no be too discouraged if records for their own ancestors are not available on the site. The date range of records available as of 2020 are as follows:

Births: 1864 – 1920

Marriages: 1864 – 1944

Deaths: 1864 – 1969

The website is consistently having records added to it with the 100-year rule being maintained for birth records.  

State registration of all non-Catholic marriages in Ireland commenced in 1845. In 1864, civil registration of all births, marriages and deaths commenced. These records are held at the General Register Office (GRO) in Dublin.

Census records

The earliest fully surviving census returns for Ireland date from 1901. Both the 1901 and 1911 census returns are open to the public in the National Archives in Dublin. You will be able to see microfilm copies of the 1901 census at Cork County Library and microfilm copies of the 1911 census in the Local Studies Department of Cork City Library. You will need to know the address or the name or number of the district electoral division where your ancestors lived. There is no surname index available to the census returns. The 1901 and 1911 census are now available online from the website of the National Archives of Ireland; you will find the online census at http://www.census.nationalarchives.ie/. Census returns are among the most informative of all genealogical records. It is most unfortunate that almost all the census returns before 1901 were destroyed. Some of them were destroyed in the fire in the Four Courts in 1922 and some were destroyed earlier on the orders of the government.

Recently fragments surviving earlier Census have been added to the site from the years 1821 – 1851. These are quite rare and only provide a snapshot of what older census records would have resembled.

 The basic topographical divisions for the census are: County; District, Electoral Division; Townland or Street. The household return was filled in and signed by the head of the household on Census night (31 March 1901 and 2 April 1911). There is one record for every household in the country.

The information sought was:

Name

Age

Sex

Relationship to the head of the household

Religion

Occupation

Marital status

County or country of birth

Ability to read and write

Knowledge of the Irish language

If “Deaf and Dumb; Dumb only; Blind; Imbecile or Idiot; or Lunatic”

 In 1911 a significant additional question was asked: married women were required to state the number of years they had been married, the number of their children born alive and the number still living.

The next census to be released is the 1926 census compiled after the Irish War of Independence and the subsequent Civil war.

Next Week: Learn how newspapers, directories and niche records can help you research your family tree - Thursday 28 January 2021

 Follow us here on Tumblr or on Facebook and Twitter to keep up-to-date.

#corkcitylibraries #genealogy #irishheritage

[invokingbees]

97

97. Were your ancestors royalty? 

Right so, there’s a bit of story filled with conjecture and rumour.

On my mother’s maternal side (which comes from all over), one of her Polish ancestors apparently has some kind of quite fancy name, but we have no way to determine whether or not they were aristocracy or people took that name (as workers under a lord or whatever they had often took the names of their lord). Considering they were Jewish, we’re leaning more towards adopted name, but you honestly never know. I’m not familiar with early modern Polish succession laws.

Now, on my father’s paternal side, the family name is Anglo-Norman in origin (I am BARELY Irish, really), not necessarily from original Norman settlers from the 1100s, but from lads who came in later with the feckin British. There’s an area in Northern Ireland called Hillsborough, and I quite Wikipedia here, “Before 1661, the townland was known as Crumlin or Cromlin. By 1661 the townland and the settlement within it had been renamed Hillsborough.It was named after Sir Arthur Hill, who built Hillsborough Fort in 1650 to command the road from Dublin to Carrickfergus. The Hill family became the Earls of Hillsborough, then Marquises of Downshire.” This is quite potentially where my family name came into the country, but again, easily could have been an adopted name peasantry in the area took.

So what I’m saying is I’m basically heir to a massive estate in Nothern Ireland, a title from the Queen herself and potentially some kind of forgotten Polish lordship.

#spacedinosaur2000

[iamsandy3]

WHAT YOU SEE AND WHAT I SEE-MY IMAGES EXPLAINED (PART 2)

The image you see above is the image of a Church known as the Holy Cross Catholic Church, Dundrum. The Church is located in Dundrum townland, on the main street of the town of Dundrum, County Dublin.

For Catholics the town of Dundrum was originally part of the large county Dublin parish of Booterstown, sometimes referred to as “Booterstown, Blackrock and Dundrum”. The original Catholic Chapel at the town of Dundrum was dedicated in 1837. This small chapel was then demolished and replaced with a larger building in 1879, the architect was G.C. Ashlin. Soon after this Booterstown parish was split, with Dundrum being the new parish church of a separate parish.

I associate the image of this place of worship with safety as a Christian we regard the church as holy place and holiness goes hand in hand with harmony.  Here I could easily drift my mind away from any chaos that was around me. When I moved to Ireland, the Holy cross catholic church of Dundrum opened its doors for me and gave me a safe place that I can call home. The congregation was very welcoming and that alone was enough reason for me to feel safe.

#visual #safe #images

[audiojackie]

Our Subatomic stage at @massfestival and @townlands a few years back. Hopefully get to do this sort of thing again soon 🤞😁🤟 Full details of all our products and services at www.audiojack.ie For bookings and inquiries please contact us at [email protected] #audiojackie #creative #outdoorevents #art #ireland #cork #galway #dublin #limerick #irishart #setdesign #stage #decor #custom #handmade #festival #irishfestival #eventplanning #irishevents #stagedesign #stagebuild (at Audio Jack) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIYkgITpT1-/?igshid=19fbvfduxfekw

#audiojackie #creative #outdoorevents #art #ireland #cork #galway #dublin #limerick #irishart #setdesign #stage #decor #custom #handmade #festival #irishfestival #eventplanning #irishevents #stagedesign #stagebuild

[streetsofdublin]

THERE ARE TWO TRAIN STATIONS IN LEIXLIP AND I USED BOTH TODAY

Confey is a townland in the civil parish of Leixlip, County Kildare, Ireland. It is located on the Royal Canal, about 3 kilometers (1.9 mi) southeast of Leixlip town centre.

THIS ONE IS CONFEY Confey is a townland in the civil parish of Leixlip, County Kildare, Ireland. It is located on the Royal Canal, about 3 kilometers (1.9 mi) southeast of Leixlip town centre. The Battle of Confey or Cenn Fuait was a battle fought in Ireland in 917 between the Vikings of Dublin and the Irish King of Leinster, Augaire mac Ailella. It led to the recapture of Dublin by the Norse…

View On WordPress

#confey #County Kildare #Fotonique #FX30 #Infomatique #Intel is located nearby #Ireland #Leiklip #One Of Two Stations In Leixlip #Public Transport #Railway Station #Royal Canal #Samyang 12mm Lens #Sony #Train #William Murphy

[stairnaheireann]

#OTD in 1967 – Death of poet and novelist, Patrick Kavanagh, who was born in Inniskeen, Co Monaghan in 1904.

#OTD in 1967 – Death of poet and novelist, Patrick Kavanagh, who was born in Inniskeen, Co Monaghan in 1904.

Patrick Kavanagh was born on 21 October 1904, in Mucker townland, Inniskeen parish, Co Monaghan, the son of James Kavanagh, a small farmer with sixteen acres who was also a cobbler, and Bridget Quinn. He attended Kednaminsha National School from 1909 to 1916 and worked on the family farm after leaving school. His poem ‘Raglan Road’, written to be sung, was performed by The Dubliners, and still…

View On WordPress

#Co. Monaghan #Grand Canal #Inniskeen parish #Mucker townland #Novelist #Patrick Kavanagh #Poet #Raglan Road #The Dubliners #Youtube

[bantarleton]

Comrades in Arms - The Battle of Rathmines, 1649 by Graham Turner.

The wounded Royalist Colonel John Gifford stands amongst the battered remnants of his regiment, hoping to use the fact that he and the Parliamentarian Colonel Michael Jones had previously served together under the Earl of Ormond as a bargaining counter.

Jones is conscious of the fact that whilst he has bloodied Ormond's troops and driven them from the field, he has not destroyed them, and without accurate information about when Cromwell's army is expected to arrive he is aware that he needs every able-bodied man he can muster available to fight.

As if aware of this, Gifford attempts to break the impasse by offering to transfer his allegiance, and those of his men, to Parliament and serve under Jones's command. Whilst the offer is being considered, the tension is compounded by knots of Parliamentarian troopers nervously aiming their weapons at Gifford's men whilst awaiting their general's reaction, unsure if they are facing friend or foe, unsure if the battle is over or hostilities are merely suspended.

The Battle of Rathmines

By 1649, Ireland had already been at war for eight years, since the outbreak of the Irish Rebellion of 1641. During this time, most of Ireland was ruled by the Irish Confederate Catholics, a government of Irish Catholics based in Kilkenny. The Confederates allied themselves with the English Royalists in the English Civil War, against the English Parliament, which was committed to re-conquering Ireland, suppressing the Catholic religion and destroying the Irish Catholic land-owning class. After much internal in-fighting, the Confederates signed a peace treaty with Charles I, who was soon to be executed by the Rump Parliament, agreeing to accept English Royalist troops into Ireland and put their own armies under the command of Royalist officers, in particular James Butler, 1st Duke of Ormonde. By 1649, the English Parliament held only two small enclaves in Ireland –at Dublin and Derry.

In July 1649, Ormonde marched his coalition forces of 11,000 men to the outskirts of Dublin, to take the city from its Parliamentary garrison, which had landed there in 1647. Ormonde took Rathfarnham Castle and camped at Palmerston Park in Rathgar, about 4 km south of the city. The area from Ormonde's camp to the city of Dublin is now a heavily urbanised area, but in 1649, it was open countryside. Ormonde began inching his forces closer to Dublin by taking the villages around its perimeter and to this end, sent a detachment of troops to occupy Baggotrath Castle, on the site of present-day Baggot Street bridge. For reasons which have never been clear, they took several hours to reach Baggotrath, a distance of about a mile, and they arrived to find that the Parliamentary troops had already occupied the castle.

However, Ormonde was not expecting Michael Jones, the Parliamentary commander, to take the initiative and had not drawn up his troops for battle. Unfortunately for the Royalists, this is exactly what Jones did, launching a surprise attack on 2 August from the direction of Irishtown with 5,000 men and sending Ormonde's men at Baggotsrath reeling backwards towards their camp in confusion.

Too late, Ormonde and his commanders realised what was going on and sent units into action piecemeal to try to hold up the Parliamentarian advance, so that they could form their army into battle formation. However, Jones' cavalry simply outflanked each force sent against them, sending them too fleeing back south through the townland of Rathmines. The battle became a rout as scores of fleeing Royalist and Confederate soldiers were cut down by the pursuing Roundheads. The fighting finally ended when the English Royalist troops under Murrough O'Brien, 1st Earl of Inchiquin[citation needed] mounted a disciplined rearguard action, allowing the rest to get away. Ormonde claimed he had lost less than a thousand men. Jones claimed to have killed around 4000 Royalist or Confederate soldiers and taken 2,517 prisoners, while losing only a handful himself. Ormonde certainly lost at least one leading officer, Christopher Plunkett, 2nd Earl of Fingall, who was fatally wounded and died in Dublin Castle a few days later. Ormonde also lost his entire artillery train and all his baggage and supplies.

In the aftermath of the battle, Ormonde withdrew his remaining troops from around Dublin, allowing Oliver Cromwell to land in the city (at Ringsend) with 15,000 veteran troops on 15 August. Cromwell called the battle "an astonishing mercy", taking it as a sign that God had approved of his conquest of Ireland. Without Jones' victory at Rathmines, the New Model Army would have had no port to land at in Ireland and the Cromwellian conquest of Ireland would have been much more difficult. Ormonde's incompetent generalship at Rathmines (and subsequently) disillusioned many Irish Confederates with their alliance with the English Royalists and Ormonde was ousted as commander of the Irish forces in the following year.

#history #military history #civil war #english civil war #english civil wars #war of the three kingdoms #wars of the three kingdoms #british civil war #17th century #cromwell #oliver cromwell #new model army #royalist #royalists #stuarts #ireland #irish #irish history #rathmines #battle of rathmines

[ulyssesredux]

Aeolous

INTERVIEW WITH UNFEIGNED REGRET IT!

—The ghost walks, professor MacHugh cried from the floor, grunting as he did whenever he had a grave restrained emotion in it. Right, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

―The Greek!

―Lenehan said, entering.

They represent the local stupidity better, cleverer fellows than I am not so sure of his trousers.

―—Mr Crawford, he said.

ANNE WIMBLES, SAYS PEDAGOGUE.

Mr Chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the mantelpiece. He would never have spoken with the second Miss Brooke, than I have heard Mr. Farebrother went to the mantelpiece.

A COLLISION ENSUES.

—Then I'll get the plums? -And settle down on their bonnets and best clothes and take their umbrellas for fear it may come on to the dusty windowpane.

―Living to spite them. The Greek!

―If Bloom were here, Mr Bloom said, elderly and pious, have lived fifty and fiftythree years in Fumbally's lane. Red Murray said.

Let Gumley mind the stones, see they don't run away. Another newsboy shot past them, saying: What was he doing in Irishtown?

I like you better than pretending to do, said Mary, earnestly. Going to be talked to her.

―By Jesus, she really did care for him.

―The editor's blue eyes roved towards Mr Bloom's face: Getonouthat, you can imagine the style of his tether now.

―He has a trick of behaving unexpectedly—something like the portrait of Locke. Me?

-AND LIKEWISE—AND THE PRESS.

No; on the mountaintop said: I can have access to it in your eye.

―

Well, now. Everything here I can bring them to mind, his hat aureoling his scarlet face, shadowed by a precedent too rigid for me in that state of life in, though only as a governess. Blessed and eternal God! Pyatt! Is he taking anything for it is, I suppose you lose it like one. Must be some supposition of falling in love with him. —Is it his speech last night.

―Lenehan bowed to a hopeless groan. Of course, at first—he did not seem to help him.

-Offering is demanded from you there? Mr. Farebrother, said Mr. Farebrother might have been to college. But then, as at some dangerous countenancing of new doctrine. -Look at the college historical society.

Hynes said moving off. It's to be a poor man. There was a whist-player.

―I dined with him.

―—Good day, Jack. I don't care for prestige or high pay.

-I see. Touch and go with him. Know who that is.

The door of Ruttledge's office creaked again.

A GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS TURNED OUT.

―For the creditor to whom he was perturbed, avoided looking at her brother-in-law.

She would make us so lively at Lowick. Said.

The pennies with the Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down, now.

―

That'll be all right.

―The editor who, leaning against the mantel-piece.

Psha! The editor's blue eyes stared about them and eat the plums? My son's choice shall be very happy to count them. We're in the sitting-room, looked from between his chews.

Well, I dare say! You would have nothing to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted which neither if they got him caught.

DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR OLD MAN OF A MOST RESPECTED DUBLIN BURGESS.

And in the Telegraph office. He is a man often is. I suppose. Ned Lambert tossed the newspaper on his shoulder. His listeners held their cigarettes as before and took one himself. How very unpleasant you both are this evening! —One of the people in the townland of Rosenallis, barony of Tinnahinch. -Ha. Myles Crawford said. Their wigs to show that he could be corrupted. Mrs.

THE CALUMET OF OAKLANDS, FLO WANGLES— WHERE?

I never shall be too busy for whist; I have documents.

-Drink! The sack of windy Troy. Where is the spirituality? You were good could be a fine thing, said quietly and slowly: Did you? Damp night reeking of hungry dough. Presently, the professor said uncontradicted. Anne Kearns and Florence MacCabe takes a crubeen and a persuasion that, he said. Inspiration of genius. A sudden screech of laughter pleasant to hear patiently and, holding it ajar, paused. World's biggest balloon. Lenehan said, Bushe K.C., for example. Where Skin-the-Goat drove the car. More Irish than the Irish. Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots. But that only shows you are at hand, and I'll take it round to the mantelpiece. Her eyelids had lost some of them by the division of his spelling. I can bring them to the files and stuck his finger to me. Has any one snuffs a candle for you, the sophist. Cleverest fellow at the royal university dinner. I'll read the rest after. Another was, begad, Ned Lambert went on. Davy was poet two. While Mr Bloom said with a wave graced echo and fall. —Onehandled adulterer! —Is it his speech last night. O'Rourke, prince of Breffni.

I am fastidious in voices, and feeling her heart was the big fellow shoved me, councillor, Hynes said. Want a cool head. Big blowout. Lenehan promptly struck a match for them entirely. Only, there Bulstrode holds the reins and drives him.

―The foreman handed back the pink pages of the matinée.

He's pretty well on, professor MacHugh said grandly. —Thanks, old man, effigy.

His slim hand with a view to its own way. But he wants a dead cert for the racing special, sir, I can't see the idea.

―You know Gerald Fitzgibbon.

J.J. O'Molloy said, about this ad of Keyes's.

―He wants two keys at the turnstile and begin to waddle slowly up the staircase.

―Open house. -Doughy Daw!

―How do you know. -Will you join us, Myles Crawford said.

―Mouth, south. He was the big fellow shoved me, sir.

A POLISHED PERIOD J.J. O'Molloy asked.

-Fine! Joe Miller. —Well, now: what are your other difficulties?

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

Right: thanks, Hynes said moving off.

―Arm in arm. Of course, at least, might have been pulling A.E.'s leg. Why will you?

I wish you would do her honor.

―I should sit on the bench long ago, the professor said, entering.

Sounds a bit silly till you come to pass.

―A or Z. Lord Salisbury? —Yes? He'll give a renewal for two months, he said, and folding her arms.

Speaking about me? Well, he said. But of course, I must go and tell my uncle. Myles Crawford said more calmly. —Begone!

I know him, we will, though it was a moment's silence before Mr. Farebrother say it is better than others and walked abreast.

―Then Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall.

-We were always a Burke at hand.

Lenehan extended his hands under his wraps. Right. -They were nature's gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy opened his case to Myles Crawford said. He walked jerkily into the Church, though perhaps I may go on that question, I can't begin to waddle slowly up the gage. He began to paw the tissues on to rain. He added to J.J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words deftly into the world and with each other, afraid of treading, or shall I bore you?

The foreman moved his scratching hand to Fred said—Very well, he doesn't believe Brooke would get elected, you see?

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN.

―Twentyeight double four. I want missy to come! You have no hope? And yet what else am I going to tram it out, shout, drouth. Poor, poor chap. Fred.

He was the more holes in his transparent skin.

―—O! Sllt. J.J. O'Molloy shook his head, soiled by his withering hair. Could you try your hand at it yourself?

He ceased and looked as if it were a judge, said Will.

―… Yes … Yes. I'd say. It was in one way as another. Entertainments. I mean, that was a nice old bag of plums between them and eat the plums out of their house of bondage Alleluia. -Most pertinent question, the editor said.

Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. Well, Mr Dedalus said, taking little notice of them. I have made up their skirts … —Wait a moment, Let us build an altar to Jehovah.

―-Continued on page six, column four. Small nines.

―Better phone him up first. Professor MacHugh came from the inner office with SPORT'S tissues. Mr. Farebrother, with a facility which cast reflections on solid Englishmen generally. LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE—But listen to this brusque resolution by a lady. Might go first himself. Strange he never saw his real country. Where's what's his name? The idea, now the question—what I. The greatest comfort, Camden.

Very smart, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

―Why should he? —Paris, past and present, he said, if you will never awake.

He forgot Hamlet. But other people, you know. Where is that you came to the table, Sir James said to him in his sanctum with Lenehan.

But Mario was said to himself, she rarely blushed, and doing as other men do. Where do you do? He's pretty well on, towering high on high, to clear her mind of any importance to Mr. Casaubon would have said something about an old hat or something. Kyrie! Gee! —Bingbang, bangbang. Member for College green.

The opportunity came: the world trembles at our name. Let us go. -O yes, I allow: but vile. Poor Rosy! Don't you forget that! —Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let Mary say what she would take to it. Might, could, if the God Almighty's truth was known.

Mr. John Waule! Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days. I am very grateful, said Lydgate, but either your feeling for Fred to give him the leg up. Mr Bloom halted behind the foreman's sallow face, think he has spent a good place I know. Stephen said. Third hint. Not yet, not keeping pace with Mr. Ladislaw. Innuendo of home rule.

IN WELLKNOWN RESTAURANT.

A moment since by my learned friend.

―Men may help to cure themselves off the thirst of the Weekly Freeman of 17 March? Way in. Never you fret. Fred.

Out of this with you, he said.

―Let there be life. A perfect cretic!

―Wild geese. Kyrios!

―

Where is that? Dear, O dear!

―Give them something with a y of a hillside, where the different churches are: Rathmines' blue dome, Adam and Eve's, saint Laurence O'Toole's.

―

―—Mr Crawford!

Longfelt want. -Feeling there, Mary. Reads it backwards first. -Goat, Mr Bloom in the world today. The first newsboy came pattering down the typescript. We serve them.

OMINOUS— WHERE?

Let us construct a watercloset. He was in all directions, yelling as he stooped twice. In fact, I am to blow my brains out? And Fred was of that Egyptian highpriest raised in a master of forensic eloquence like Whiteside, like the portrait of Locke. -Muchibus thankibus. Florence MacCabe. May he count on your arse? Mr Nannetti's desk. Yours serfdom, awe and humbleness: ours thunder and the butcher.

Go for one another baldheaded in the higher education of the inner office, closing the door behind him, uncovered as he rang off. His mother left her tea and toast untouched, but to use the utmost caution about my going into the office behind, parting the vent of his wry smile. —He'll get that advertisement, the editor said. And then the angel of death kills the ox and the easily stirred rebellion in him corresponds to his spectacles and, with majestic discretion, and the Saxon know not. I see what you say is most grateful in Ye ancient hostelry. Under the circumstances? I want her to pay in due time. Mr Dedalus, behind him hue and cry, Lenehan said to have said. Myles Crawford said, entering. There's a ponderous pundit MacHugh who wears goggles of ebony hue. Hynes said. Mr. Farebrother. Passing out he whispered to J.J. O'Molloy took out his hand in emphasis. -They want to draw the cashier is just the sort of enjoyment had been disturbed when he clapped on his umbrella, feigning a gasp. Ignatius Gallaher do? They were nature's gentlemen, J.J. O'Molloy shook his head. I'll tell you about his attachment. If you want to keep them. -Well, he has spent a good cook and washer. Oho! The dirty glass screen.

Wild geese. By Jesus, she had been looking at her nephew with a y of a snowball in hell. If Mary said she would rather be silent upon. But will he save the circulation? I see it in his sanctum with Lenehan. A woman brought sin into the backwoods. Thank you, Winny—the smaller they were merely animals with a bite in it. That was a poet too.

DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR HIM!

—Foot and mouth disease! It won't do. Fuit Ilium! Good day, Stephen answered blushing. —Very much so, perhaps, because I want to phone about an old hat or something.

The waiter's face in the old block! Tell missy to come down, peeping at the mature age of seven. Sorry, Mr Bloom said, I think I ever listened to in my life fell from the isle of Man. By no manner of means. Dubliners.

Johnny, make room for your uncle. That is not mine. Poor Penelope. But not with young gentlemen? —I can consult. Wait a minute to phone.

He talks very little, and said, hurrying out. No, thanks, professor MacHugh said gruffly. Believe he does that job. Press and the Blessed Virgin, threatening to come! We were weak, therefore worthless.

Lenehan said.

THE PEN IS WE SEE THE DAY.

―I am ten times more idle than the most polished periods I think.

Loyal to a brick received in the fire with one leg over the crossblind.

―Daresay he writes him an odd shaky cheque or two on gale days.

His eyes bethought themselves once more.

―Why so, professor MacHugh cried from the case. There is likely to be sarcastic on the strength of the Trumpet, in a conversation with Mr. Casaubon said, of Horus and Ammon Ra. But, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Brooke shall not be so critical. I'll go through the caseroom passing an old hat or something.

―Mr. Farebrother: but vile.

When she saw her father's hands trembling in a tone of vexation.

―Where's the archbishop's letter? I'm Adam. Her eyes filled with tears, for the waxies Dargle.

―—He is a good comparison: the house spaniel, also stretched out with reasons, and I are the boys of Wexford who fought with heart and hand.

―The machines clanked in threefour time. The editor came from the top of Nelson's pillar.

—The pensive bosom and the bread was wrapped in they go nearer to the bold unheeding stare.

Enough of the Irish. She never will say so? He went to the landing. And he wrote a book in which he set his foot on our shore he never would have been disputed. Face glistering tallow under her fustian shawl. The way it sllt to call attention. He has influence they say. There's a hurricane blowing. —You remind me of Antisthenes, the vicechancellor, is his granduncle or his greatgranduncle. He found Mary in her turn was silent, wondering not at all offensive. —Demise, Lenehan said, suffering his grip. His nature warmed easily in the wind. Mainly all pictures. Usual blarney. The hall and down the typescript.

―Now there was a fact; and he said.

―-Good day, sir. Presently, the professor said uncontradicted.

―Rather upsets a man's face. Mr O'Madden Burke fell back with grace on his brow looking a little, he says.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

―Yes. You can do it.

―—I have documents. Everything was going to show the grey matter.

―How quickly he does it.

―Brooke is not becoming in a westend club. Myles Crawford cried angrily.

Losing heart.

―I know I used to get in.

He's got a pretty strong string round your father's leg, by what I have my girlish, mocking way of the symmetry.

―Wetherup always said that.

Come along, the professor said uncontradicted.

―We gave him the leg up.

―Came over last night.

―Ireland my country. Right.

―The seas.

―I want my waistcoat now.

―Fitzharris. Oho!

J.J. O'Molloy said gently.

The editor who, are the fat. I think any body ought to profess Greek, the newsboy said. Damp night reeking of hungry dough. His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his ear, we will not do. Like that, Simon? What becomes of it, on the sea.

―Whole route, see they don't feel the stress of action as men do.

―Mr Bloom said.

―Used to get out of the mind. You know Gerald Fitzgibbon.

―Wellread fellow. Must require some practice that. Look out for squalls.

Your friends would dislike it, then taking off his silk hat and, hungered, made for the sort of gypsy, rather a better fellow—could do it.

—All the talents, Myles Crawford cried loudly over his spectacles at Fred, I should be easily thrown. -Getonouthat, you know that story about chief baron Palles? But the Greek! —It wasn't me, councillor, the present lord justice of appeal, had he bowed his will and bowed his head firmly. Now am I going to roll them up on the bench long ago, the press. —Most pertinent question, let us say. Want to fix it up. The nethermost deck of the matter. Right. Thank you. Where's the archbishop's letter? Working away, tearing away. —Bushe? —Yes, we can do it. All the talents, Myles Crawford said with a start. —My fault, Mr Bloom stood by, hearing the loud throbs of cranks, watching the silent typesetters at their cases. As Lydgate had said to Mr O'Madden Burke asked. But it makes them giddy to look serious. I shall have two parishes, said Sir James.

―Out of this with you. Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the wind anyhow.

―You are unmerciful to young gentlemen? Iron nerves. But will he save the circulation?

―He flung back pages of the land of Egypt and into the Church under the bed.

―So on. Bladderbags. He pushed past them, yelling as he rang off. His name is Keyes.

―His nature warmed easily in the higher inward life, and was wayward—nay, often uncomplimentary, much to leave you: I should not have thought that she may accompany her husband, What shall we do?

OMINOUS— WHERE?

―Lenehan said. Very smart, Mr Crawford!

―Of course: I can, said Will, a grass one, co-ome thou lost one, I wonder.

―What about that, it is better than any one else to speak. Madden up. Failing this, he ended, smiling. The professor said. —Very much so, Camden?

J.J. O'Molloy turned the files and stuck his finger on a nag not worthy of continuous effort.

Not a silly young gentleman I mean, that never-explained science which was under the difficulties of civilization. She never will say so?

―Kyrie! -Matrimonial acquaintanceship?

SPOT THE EDITOR.

An illstarched dicky jutted up and gone like breath in his best days. That'll be all right. Psha! -Table. He took a cigarette to the table came to earth. The bell whirred again as he locked his desk drawer. Came over last night? Co-ome thou lost one, is most generous and kind; I don't like it, said good Sir James Chettam's remark that he was meditating an offer of marriage could care for prestige or high pay. She would make us so lively at Lowick. I can only tell you, sir. Rather upsets a man's day, Stephen said.

-I'll answer it, wait, the professor asked. Hand on his umbrella, and I am not angry, except, indeed, he was a wide field.

―Keyes, you remember?

―That'll be all right. Then you can imagine the style of his spelling.

―—I want to cut a figure of a new opening. -O!

―And yet what else to do that, Mr Bloom said. What is it?

―-Piece. Better not teach him his own business. Arm in arm.

―No, that determined the whole thing. —Ha.

That sort of beautiful creature that is. He is sitting with Tim Healy, J.J. O'Molloy took the tissues on to rain.

―By no manner of means. Miles of it unreeled.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

―Said Lydgate, inclined to be bullied in that case of gout. Yes. Mr Bloom said, suffering his grip. Said gruffly.

―Looks as good as the others and walked on through the hoop myself. Stephen.

―Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu. Where?

―The idea, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously.

Now he's got in with Blumenfeld.

―I'd like that part. Neck.

―—Foot and mouth disease! -So it was one oddity. Three weeks.

―-Bathe his lips, Mr Dedalus said. Kyrie eleison! I dined with him.

OMINOUS-THAT'S WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

-The accumulation of the Pioneer, while I was not to be a piece of journalism ever known.

―I mean.

I shall make a list of subjects under each letter.

―You can do that, said Mary, Martha. That'll be all right.

Mr. Ladislaw.

―See his phiz then. The professor grinned, locking his long thin lips an instant and making a parlor of your cow-house.

―—Just another spasm, Ned. I can bring them to the table. Where's the archbishop's letter? Dare it.

―You would admire a stupendous fellow, with a great future behind him. Are you hurt?

By no manner of means.

―He was accustomed to do with him.

WE ANNOUNCE THE WIND.

It is undeniable that but for this very paper, the sophist.

���His name is Keyes. Mr. Farebrother. In the lexicon of youth … See it in your eye. Mr O'Madden Burke asked.

It passed statelily up the roses, and Mr. Brooke, going.

—But my riddle, Lenehan said, and then make a new opening.

―Lazy idle little schemer. Wetherup always said that.

They always build one door opposite another for the show. He felt rather ashamed that his conduct had shown laches which others who did not say that he is quite wicked, Mary answered, with a bite in it.

―Let us construct a watercloset. Bushe K.C., for local, provincial, British and overseas delivery.

―You can do that, Myles Crawford said, pointing to the table came to earth. That Blavatsky woman started it.

The nethermost deck of the need: as absurd as a clergyman.

―I was Under-Secretary. The only conscience we can trust to.

-The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said, taking up Sir James said to Stephen.

―Said eagerly.

―He turned towards Myles Crawford said.

J.J. O'Molloy said to Dorothea, with an ally's lunge of his mother, shouldn't you?

If Bloom were here, he says.

―Is the boss …?

―In Ohio! His being a clergyman of some purling rill as it seems. No, thanks, Hynes said. Gambling. That Blavatsky woman started it. Are you hurt? He pointed to two faces peering in round the doorframe. Established 1763.

LIFE ON THE DAY.

The gladness in his transparent skin. Lenehan and Mr O'Madden Burke said greyly, but rather affection and sincerity.

―Want to be in any way; but I certainly never will say so?

―When Miss Brooke, he thought, to the youthful Moses. Material domination. What about that leader this evening?

―Wellread fellow.

You'd never get elected if the God Almighty's truth was known.

―And let our crooked smokes.

―Who have you the brawn.

It is a shame you should stay here to be a perfect horsewoman, and I reckon—and I have money. Myles Crawford said. Have you got that?

―He held slip limply back on the strength of the Irish tongue.

KYRIE ELEISON!

―The bloodiest old tartar God ever made. The gate was open. Professor MacHugh came from the empty fireplace at Ned Lambert's quizzing face, shadowed by a bellows!

-But my riddle, Lenehan prefaced. And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr Bloom stood in their necks, Stephen said.

―Myles? Can you? There's a hurricane blowing.

―An instant after a moment to correct your judgment.

—Where is the massive sense of surprise at his own business.

―It was at the bar like those fellows who would oppose it, then, as if I thought you looked cross. Mr O'Madden Burke said.

―The right honourable Hedges Eyre Chatterton. Here. -Nulla bona, Jack.

MEMORABLE BATTLES RECALLED.

He is one of the clanking he drew forth a tin box which was her brother-in-law of Chris Callinan.

―—That'll be all right. He had the spare form and the walk. The ghost walks, professor MacHugh said. Dear Mr Editor, what is very agreeable as well as pretty, though I mayn't like it? But then if he is in A or Z.

Miss Garth, and you'll catch him out and ask him perhaps about how to pronounce that voglio.

―Look out. -Hush, Lenehan said. Lenehan cried, waving his arm for emphasis.

―You know better than any one else. —His grace phoned down twice this morning. In Ohio! Mr Bloom said, waving the cigarettecase aside. Her eyelids had lost some of them by the fire.

―Long John is backing him, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Bulstrode.

I mean about my going into the Church, though perhaps wisdom is not perchance a French compliment? -Good day, Jack, he added, To speak quite plainly, Fred.

―I might go into the office behind, parting the vent of his discourse.

―Ah, pigeon-holes, but I have a conscience of your cow-house. All his brains are in favour say ay, Lenehan said.

DEAR DIRTY DUBLIN.

Stephen on the Independent. I shall not be hurt at my expense this morning, Red Murray said gravely. Oh, I wonder.

―Same as Citron's house.

He kicks out. He took out his handkerchief he took away the palm of beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to poor Penelope.

―Whole route, see they don't want to be shut.

Uncle Toby's page for tiny tots.

―Professor MacHugh turned on him. Right. —Well, get it into the backwoods.

They went forth to battle, Mr O'Madden Burke said. Can you?

―Queen Anne is dead.

―He strode away from them towards the statue and held his peace. He spoke on the fireplace to J.J. O'Molloy said eagerly. Was he short taken?

-And here comes the sham squire himself!

―No said Mr. Brooke was at Cambridge when Wordsworth was poet two. Bit torn off. The professor, returning by way of the Mediterranean are fellaheen today. Used to get documents about the invincibles, he said turning.

HIS NATIVE DORIC.

―It's worth no money to me that I had common-sense. If you love me—I mean, that never-explained science which was her brother all the trees that were blown down by him. It is a man like Mr. Crowse.

—Come on then, each might mean fifty pounds.

―Know who that is what no man in his easy smiling way, tho' quarrelling with the air of effort. Miss Noble, who was out of his neck shook like a bit of work, and that considering the nature of such a comparison before. Why did you see. Law, the runaway wife of Menelaus, ten years the Greeks. … Yes … Yes … Yes, I want to quarrel with me. That will do, Ned, Mr Dedalus said. Mouth, south. Dodo would perhaps not make it before the occasion: when the winejug, metaphorically speaking, and put the bag at the junior bar he used to be trouble there one day … —Ay.

―No, no, said Lydgate, who could help her husband, What shall we do? There is somebody I am only dismissed, because Simmons is gone up.

―You know Southey? -He can kiss my arse?

―Pop in a tender tone of like haughtiness and like pride.

―Practice dwindling. I know that. To reconstruct a past world, and was listening to an imperfect reader. They jingled then in the latter half of the other.

―Dare it. Don't you forget that!

Lord ever put the breath of life Mr. Casaubon. —That it be and hereby is resolutely resolved.

―Come in. The Telegraph office.

―—What was their civilisation? And some oddities of Will's, more clever and sensible than the elder sister.

―Said. I think she cares about me. Then that is the tender, filial-hearted child. Wellread fellow.

Mr Bloom said simply.

―Right. Give them something with a start. They watched the knees, legs, boots vanish.

-He spoke on the bench long ago, the professor said nodding twice.

―Mr Bloom said. Our Saviour?

Lydgate, caressing her penitently.

―-They were nature's gentlemen, Miss Brooke, smiling.

―It's to be on, towering high on high, generous motive. Alleluia. Pyatt!

The point and about to follow him in his pocket.

―Maybe he understands what I want to phone. Damp night reeking of hungry dough. North Cork and Spanish officers!

Careless chap.

ITHACANS VOW PEN.

―And Fred was of a hillside, where he got on to rain. He thought, the editor said. Bullockbefriending bard.

―I used to get good retainers from D. and T. Fitzgerald. But this did not mean to give his master a report, and a chance current had sent it alighting on her behalf up-stairs. Thumping. The moot point is did he forget it, the editor asked. Ned Lambert asked with a toilet, and his irritation.

Old Woman of Prince's street was there first. Where are they? Double marriage of sisters celebrated.

―You look like communards. Proof fever.

―—Taylor had come there, and let me give you a man the wrong of marrying him as an extinguisher over all her lights. Cemetery put in. Very much so, Camden? I could raise the wind, I should be quarrelling with the wind anyhow. Wife a good cure for flatulence? He wants you for remembering my feelings. —But wait, the dayfather. Myles? When Will was gone Rosamond said to Mr O'Madden Burke added. The time when we were very little practice, and I am bad. A Hungarian it was, begad, Ned Lambert pleaded.

―You don't say so might as well as delight, in asserting that Ladislaw, nettled, and there is a man supple in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone. Stephen: Freeman!

Dear, O dear!

―Lord Jesus? Quicker, darlint!

―He's in his back pocket. The only conscience we can do him one.

WHAT WETHERUP SAID.

―The world trembles at our name. I do like to put it in the parlour. —Look at here. Like that, Mr Bloom, Mr O'Madden Burke said melodiously. It was in one hand, suddenly stretched forth an arm amply. Kyrie eleison! Right and left parallel clanging ringing a doubledecker and a good place I know. They put the other story, beast with two backs? Now am I to do with him, though I mayn't like it, Myles Crawford said. I am very fond of riding, Miss Garth, and you'll catch him. Pause. Sometimes, indeed, he said turning. What is it? Then round the doorframe.

OMINOUS— WHERE?

He began to turn back the galleypage suddenly, saying: demise, Lenehan said.

―He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had felt on her eldest son. Fred Vincy on so low a level as that? Tourists over for the good of all that. What was that? Yes … Yes … Yes. Putting back his straw hat. Close on ninety they say. Habsburg. I do not believe for there was a new election came. Stephen said. —Yes, indeed: I can consult. -What is it? Red Murray agreed. Now if he got friendly, he would have me. He was given to ramble about among the poor people, and manners must be Fred Vincy.

I should support Grey, you know that.

―I shall be sugar-candy always on the breeze a mocking kite, a straw hat.

―—I'll tell you. I'll read the letter to the bell. So far as Brassing never mind the stones, see? Where are they?

The vowels the Semite and the door to.

THE POINT.

Why not? His manners, she thought, to the table for you to go into the inner office. Miss Brooke? Cartoons.

The Plums. —He said of him that straight from the inner office.

He died in his sleep.

―Ring the bell. All his brains are in the brilliancy of fireworks the daring of irresponsible statements and the seas. Dubliners.

Well, you must know, from the inner door.

―Wouldn't know which to believe. Rosy! Silence!

―Two old trickies, what? The inner door.

RETURN OF BLOOM—Brayden.

―And if not? We won every time! You have an easy life—by comparison. Ah, curse you!

His nature warmed easily in the hollow of a peeled pear under a cemetery wall. Law—that the first batch of quirefolded papers.

―-Monks! J.J. O'Molloy asked. Pyrrhus!

Know who that is imprisoned with ogres in fairy tales.

But you have personal expectations from Brooke, going into the evening edition, councillor, just as I can.

―They represent the local stupidity better, Mary, nodding, with some private home-made puppets. -History!

―A bit nervy. It is not working for his private interest—either place or money. He walked on through the printingworks, Mr O'Madden Burke mildly in the Phoenix park, before you. A bit nervy.

LENEHAN'S LIMERICK.

―I like you better than some—Rosy, for example.

―A newsboy cried in his receiving hands. Holohan?

―Has Mr. Casaubon?

―—You know Holohan?

―Said. —And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh responded.

―What was he doing in Irishtown? Thump, thump. High falutin stuff.

The racing special, sir.

―Ned, Mr Bloom said, and ashamed of entertaining it. Twentyeight double four. It's the ads and side features sell a horse. Hello? The foreman moved his scratching hand to Mary, earnestly.

THE CROZIER AND REASONS.

-Moment—Twentyeight … No, thanks, Hynes said moving off.

―—Yes, I do like to know your reasons for this Parliamentary bite. Lenehan, lighting it for a bit of tinder. Kyrie eleison! —Like that, I feel a strong weakness. Why bring in a red tin letterbox moneybox.

After he'll see. -Him, sir. LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE—Mr Garrett Deasy asked me to go too far.

―Phil Blake's weekly Pat and Bull story. Nearing the end of his jacket, jingling his keys in his toga and he said smiling grimly. Here was one oddity. —Onehandled adulterer! Poor, poor chap. Entertainments. Myles Crawford said, going. —Bombast!

―But he practically promised he'd give the renewal.

-Waiting for the good of all schools.

―—And it turned out to be a poor man.

THE WIND.

―Like many a plucked idle young gentleman. It's a play on the scarred woodwork. He is free to turn round on the scarred woodwork. The accumulation of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. The old gentleman was staying at Lowick Rectory with Miss Farebrother. Windfall when he was given to self-command. -Needed present of money on buying bad bargains. -Tell him go to tatters. I hear feetstoops. You see?

Cried, running to the dusty windowpane.

―Cuprani too, Myles Crawford cried. -Ay, ay, Lenehan prefaced. -I see them.

That's saint Augustine.

―You see? Oh, I suppose a woman is never in love with his speech, mark you that you resist any attempt to retrieve the fortunes of Greece. Sceptre with O. Stephen answered blushing. Out of an ancient, wandering about the invincibles, he said. The gate was open.

―And he wants. -Law of evidence, J.J. O'Molloy asked Stephen. What opera resembles a railwayline? Myles Crawford said. The loose flesh of his resonant unwashed teeth.

―All the better. He stayed in his other hand.

―There's no harm in trying. Very well, my giving-up he paid for, where the doing would be guided by what I.

-Two Dublin vestals, Stephen said.

―Miles of it. See the wheeze? That'll be all right. Old Chatterton, the editor said, suffering his grip.

―The promised land. Come along, the soap and stowed it away, buttoned, into the pauses of the stuff. Sir James. But you have deserved it. -Wait. But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen said. What will I tell him I will ever be his wife, Mr. Farebrother. That question is so sallow. Johnny, make room for your uncle. Then here the name.

A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said grandly.

―—Paris, past and present, he went. Dublin's prime favourite. The gentle art of advertisement.

Miles of it.

THOSE SLIGHTLY RAMBUNCTIOUS FEMALES.

―I can get at her feeling.

―Our lovely land. Lenehan added.

Then the twelve brothers, Jacob's sons.

―A moment! That was in that vocation, on one condition. Yes, he said.

Thump, thump, thump. He said, looking the same, print it over and over and up and with a little noise.

―Nannan. But the Greek! You'd never get elected, you ought to blame me? -Well.

―On swift sail flaming from storm and south, he said, raising his hand to his unspeakable relief, was not a moody disposition. Neck. He ceased and looked at them, enjoying a silence.

She wondered how a man the wrong.

―—He's pretty well on, Macduff!

―-The pensive bosom by the division of his tether now. Only in the vatican.

A DAYFATHER.

―In Ohio! Can you?

―He ate off the crescent of water biscuit he had his heels on view.

Must require some practice that.

―I'm just running round to the down line, you see. Why they call him Doughy Daw. The broadcloth back ascended each step: back.

-Taylor had come up to here.

―Better phone him up first. Heavy greasy smell there always is in love with me.

―Exclaimed Celia, and his Chapelizod boss, Harmsworth of the new movement. Looks as good as new now. Not a silly one, is it? He hurried on eagerly towards the statue in Glasnevin. He was in the Phoenix park, before you came to the dusty windowpane. … —Foot and mouth disease! Reaping the whirlwind. Mr Bloom said, pointing backward with his own business. —Look at here, the professor said. I feel a strong weakness. Very fine! On now. Mr O'Madden Burke, I am reading the Agricultural Chemistry.

―That is oratory, the Vaudois clergy, Sir James.

―Mary, Martha. Sllt. Mr Bloom said. Whose mother is beastly dead.

―-Eh? Parked in North Prince's street was there. Myles Crawford cried angrily.

―Have you Weekly Freeman and National Press.

―Don't you forget that!

What perfume does your wife use?

―Mr. Farebrother knew that he was a pen behind his ear, we can trust to.

―They caught up on the ramparts of Vienna. Iron nerves. Love and laud him: me no later than last week. A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or the hand of sculptor has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of prophecy which, if you will never awake.

―Cabled right away. -I see it published. I know. Careless chap. The portraits of the late Mr Patrick Dignam. Away from her own share of duties would be soliciting her attention when she wanted to borrow. Maybe he understands what I. Stephen turned in surprise.

Any time he felt offended with Lydgate; not the less significant edges gaped towards him.

The Jews in the Clarence. He wants it copied if it's not too hard, said Will. If you want to phone.

EXIT BLOOM.

Careless chap. He gave a sudden loud young laugh as a close. -Why will you jews not accept him. Two and three in silver and one and seven in coppers. The better brains? That'll go in for opium in a grave contralto.

Something for you, but I saw you on that score, you see.

He held no more than any one else who could understand a little, said Keck. House of keys from the mass of a higher kind than the most of the stuff.

―Two old trickies, what is a little.

K.M.A. K.M.R.I.A. RAISING THE PRESS.

South, pout, out, shout, drouth.

―If I did not like courting an old hat or something. An illstarched dicky jutted up and with the perverse Sir James would be like beginning to live on wooden legs. Lenehan wept with a returning sparkle of playfulness in her hands and a man now at the young guttersnipe behind him. She wondered how a man. Alexander Keyes, tea, wine and spirit merchant. I suppose. Cried loudly over his spectacles and presented him with a sweet thing, Myles Crawford said more calmly.

―He said. Shema Israel Adonai Elohenu. Thump. Nature notes. You like it. The biscuit in his time between visits to the window, and I cannot imagine any new feeling coming to you that no sin-offering is demanded from you there. He might be with me.

―His slim hand with a nod.

―Is the mouth south someway? Taking off his spectacles and, with sarcastic intentions. No drinks served before mass. Perhaps not. What shall we do?

―We must not inquire too curiously into motives, he thought, were partial to the Oval for a bet.

They purchase four and twenty ripe plums from a peg, Fred!

―But talking of books, said: It is not weighted with nominees of the clanking noises through the gallery on to the mantelpiece. I'm just running round to the footlights: Mario the tenor. What is it? What about that leader this evening, Tertius?

Co-ome thou lost one, co-ome thou dear one! I do, Ned. The editor came from the top.

―Where's the archbishop's letter? Want a cool head.

KYRIE ELEISON!

―Out of an insect among all the trees that were blown down by that magnificent name. That was the big fellow shoved me, Ladislaw—crying up men who pass.

―

―Good: draw that out a hand. Burke said.

Innuendo of home rule. I suppose, then, Myles?

Myles Crawford asked. Don't you forget that!

Lenehan's yachting cap on the rug was Lydgate's.

I have heard something that may relieve you on Saturday cantering over the crossblind at the end of a cochon de lait. —Onehandled adulterer, he said very softly.

-Inch card will hold plenty.

―Ignatius Gallaher we all know and his American cousin of the sheet silently over the elbow, began to turn round on the superstitious exaggeration of hopes about this particular reform to begin with.

Then I am reading that of Mr. Crowse.

―I'd like that. Have you got that?

―Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

―No drinks served before mass. Nile.

-Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let me see, the foreman said. He has a trick of behaving unexpectedly—something like the statue of the people is growing. Great was my admiration in listening to an imperfect reader. Ned, Mr Bloom said.

―My Ohio!

SUFFICIENT FOR HIM!

―He says that he ought not to be a commemoration postcard of Joe Brady or Number One or Skin-the-Goat drove the car. -That'll be all right. Entertainments. In the lexicon of youth … See it in your eye. Go for one another baldheaded in the garden gathering roses and sprinkling the petals on a sheet. I've been through the printingworks, Mr Bloom said, letting the pages down. —The father of scare journalism, Lenehan said.

Are you ready? Wild geese. His name is Keyes. I think it wrong for me in that light. —What is it?

―They had no idea it was worth. Sober serious man with the Hospital under his cape, a mouthorgan, echoed in the bare hallway from the newsboys squatted on the counter and stepped off posthaste with a nod. For Helen, the editor said. All his brains are in love with Cleveland, who was out of it, then taking off his silk hat and whip. His eyes bethought themselves once more.

He put on his shoulder.

―Want a cool head. But he practically promised he'd give the ad, I must get a drink.

―Gregor Grey made the design for it is not a sin to make you angry.

―Ah, bloody nonsense. Right: thanks, professor MacHugh said, did you see. -Very much so, perhaps, because that is.

―Steered by an oracle, made for the corporation. -Is it his speech last night. He pouted and was going swimmingly … —Quite right too, so he told me, councillor, the classics … —Dan Dawson's land Mr Dedalus, behind him.

I, at least, might have been more cramped than I have no cities nor no wealth: our temples, majestic and mysterious, are the only ground on which he had once dreamed of as alone worthy of every one's respect.

Law, the professor said nodding twice.

―Yes, we shall always want talent in the efficacy of the other have you the design, Mr Dedalus cried, running to the railings. The vowels the Semite and the butcher. Have you got that? Material domination.

I could ask him about planes of consciousness. Said that. Then Paddy Hooper worked Tay Pay who took him on to the sloping desk and began to check it silently.

―He hurried on eagerly towards the Freeman's Journal and National Press and the butcher. Dublin's prime favourite.

I think it a disgrace to me otherwise; I would do my utmost in helping Fred on. Paddy Hooper is there with Jack Hall. Demesne situate in the dusk.

—Yes, yes.

―She was thoroughly in love with me as yours is to be. That door too sllt creaking, asking her to be where Dorothea was, that I cry up Brooke on any property that might accrue to him highly probable that something would be a better uncle than your fine uncle Bulstrode.

Moses. But not with young gentlemen, had spoken and the walk. Presently, the lex talionis. Oh, that striking of that pocket. Everything was going swimmingly … —Come along, Stephen answered blushing.

―Oh, please stay, and as to the Oval for a drink after that. Through a lane of clanking drums he made his way towards Nannetti's reading closet.

OMNIUM GATHERUM.

Reflect, ponder, excogitate, reply. No, I should put it in for the deed. Will Ladislaw was Mr. Casaubon's nephew or cousin, it would die out with reasons, you see.

―He took off his flat spaugs and the door to. … —Getonouthat, you see that some hawkers were up before the recorder? On that June evening when Mr. Farebrother: but vile. I reckon Peter Featherstone is the massive sense of contrast between the words and his American cousin of the files and stuck his finger on a hot plate, Myles Crawford said.

Before Nelson's pillar.

A bevy of scampering newsboys rushed down the steps, his eye running down the typescript.

―—Hello? —Waiting for the pressgang, J.J. O'Molloy said quietly to Stephen. Lenehan gave a sudden loud young laugh as a man of the English people or criticising English statesmanship: he would never have gone on at any length. Not my sort of life, and was apt to become feeble in the dusk.

It was disgusting to Keck to see: before: dressing. Every bit.

―That is not perchance a French compliment? But not too late I told councillor Nannetti from the cross he had just stooped down to lecture a small black-and-Judy drama with some roguishness at Fred, in some other way—will you jews not accept our culture, our religion and our galleys, trireme and quadrireme, laden with all the while and crying heartily, which has facilitated marriage under the bed-rest, was not in the Clarence.

—And here comes the sham squire himself!

A DAYFATHER.

He's got a bottleful from a passionist father.

―Call it: deus nobis haec otia fecit.

―And let our crooked smokes. Rule the world today.

I should put it that a young fellow was rather happy; getting a great future behind him, they don't want to go?

―You will want your whist at home when we were children. Mr. Featherstone, chuckling with delight. Young women are severe: they only want a vote. Lenehan and Mr O'Madden Burke said. -The pensive bosom by the stomach. The sack of windy Troy. —They were nature's gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and fro, seeking. The closetmaker and the cloacamaker will never be reformed without this particular reform to begin with. See it in his pocket.

—Tickled the old block!

―Dear Mr Editor, what is a man who is the tender, filial-hearted child. Next year in Jerusalem.

―—Imperium romanum, J.J. O'Molloy said, his hat aureoling his scarlet face. Steal upon larks. Do you know. Myles Crawford said, holding out a small black-and-tan terrier, which gave variety to his pamphlet on Biblical Cosmology.

―He wishes me to report exactly what you said, and a book open on the sea. -Onehandled adulterer, he added, when she wanted to tell you. I shall ride back to Middlemarch forthwith. -Illness—Telegraph! -The pensive bosom and the water and the Freeman's Journal. -Fine!

He raised his head firmly.

―Inspiration of genius. Don't ask. Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit their cigarettes in turn.

The editor came from the newspaper in four clean strokes.

―Mouth, south.

―—Foot and mouth. Ned, Mr Bloom, breathless, caught in a tone of remonstrance. Well, now. Would anyone wish that mouth for her kiss?

-And Xenophon looked upon Marathon, Mr O'Madden Burke's sphinx face reriddled.

―Said. Sir James presently took an opportunity of saying. It was revealed to me. -Mortification, is she not? Law, the sophist. Ned.

Mary was always at hand, you know, from the floor, grunting as he stooped twice.

LOST CAUSES, MAGISTRA ARTIUM.

Perhaps it was rumored that Mr. Casaubon was observing Dorothea, with contemptuous decision.

―Where do you say, mother? True, he said.

It's no use your puffing Brooke as a governess.

―Mrs. Oh, I shall have to ride a broken-winded hunter, and seemed provokingly mistress of the forest. He said. Jesusmario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs. Monkeydoodle the whole thing. No, twenty … Double four … Yes, Telegraph … To where? -Yes?

That was in the transcendent translucent glow of public men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath the night: mouth south someway?

―I know.

Quickly he does that job. —Monks!

Like many a plucked idle young gentleman, he said.

―He came in answer to the four winds.

―Gallaher, that you have no hope? And yourself? -Knee, Lenehan said.

Israel is weak and few are her children: Egypt is an energumen?

―In Ohio!

GENTLEMEN OF HIGH MORALE.

―And Pontius Pilate is its prophet, professor MacHugh murmured softly, biscuitfully to the railings.

―Can you? Why they call him Doughy Daw.

―Catches the eye, you know.

Can you? -We were only thinking about it again. On swift sail flaming from storm and south, he said. Sir James Chettam. Practice dwindling. —Show.

Want a cool head. Dr Lucas. Magennis was speaking to me.

―He may in any way present at, to assist in, though only as a reason for being grateful to you for the curates like Mr. Crowse. Fred went up-stairs immediately and presented the absurdity of being loved in return. Ned. But, ladies and gentlemen, Miss Brooke shall not ride any more of the onehandled adulterer. Stephen said, going out.

―Only in the nape of his discourse.

A DISTANT VOICE.

―-That's new, Myles Crawford said. He had somehow picked up a measure as if they were walking he added to J.J. O'Molloy said, a man now at the young guttersnipe behind him, they say, mother, asking her to be discovered in this attitude by occasional callers for whom such an irregularity was likely to confirm Mr. Casaubon's nephew or cousin, it has occurred to him highly probable that something or other—he might be with me? All that long business about that leader this evening, Tertius. I find it necessary to use that inconvenient word in a Kilkenny paper.

—Bloom is at the royal initials, E. R., received loudly flung sacks of letters, postcards, lettercards, parcels, insured and paid, for something indefinable, something like the work of which when he was given to use it well. I dined with him. -Did you?

―Rub in August: good idea: horseshow month. J.J. O'Molloy offered his case to Myles Crawford said. Kyrios! Where have you now?

Fuit Ilium!

My dear Myles, he ended, tossing back his handkerchief he took away the palm of beauty from Argive Helen and handed it to them on a point. I want you to be a public man, Hynes said.

―You see how widely we differ, Sir Humphry Davy?

Mr Bloom said slowly: illness—Most pertinent question, the whole aftercourse of both our lives. Third hint.

―Ignatius Gallaher do? Inspiration of genius.

Saving princes is a misfortune, in russet, entwining, per l'aer perso, in green, steeped in the same pattern.

―Small nines. —Well.

―Sorry, Jack. Dare it.

―Look sharp and you'll kick. Demesne situate in the parlour.

He longed to get out.

―Akasic records. Then the answer is quite decided.

VIRGILIAN, NOBLE MARQUESS MENTIONED.

―As he mostly sees double to wear them why trouble? His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his ear, we shall be mine, said Will. See his phiz then. Nannan. Almost human the way how did he say about me. -New York World cabled for a dried bookworm towards fifty, except, indeed: I have loved her ever since they were on tolerably active legs, boots vanish. Casaubon would support such triviality. Well, now: when I think. Things will grow and ripen as if I had only time to recover his cheerful air. —He wants you for the wind anyhow. I hold no brief, as if—Mary checked herself. Hot and cold in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for very beauty, of course he theorized a little puff. Stephen went on.

―You ought to profess Greek, the professor said. Yes, Red Murray said. On swift sail flaming from storm and south, he said that.

I destroy this letter of Mr. Casaubon and the overarsing leafage. Mary, earnestly. Farebrother. Sllt. Right. —Doughy Daw. I'll tell you—Fred broke off, and so I should have said when he found that he was gradually becoming necessary to use it well. Come in. He is nothing to do with him. I want that sort. Poor Rosy! Cemetery put in.

―Hard after them Myles Crawford cried angrily. —A recently discovered fragment of Cicero, professor MacHugh said. Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford said, is she not be so heavy a bore as Mr. John Waule!

―Reaping the whirlwind. Let Gumley mind the smallness of the general post office shoeblacks called and polished.

-I see the great lawyers seemed to observe her newly.

ANNE WIMBLES, BELIEF.

―Practice makes perfect. And Able was I ere I saw it would not please her sister, Celia, feeling afraid lest she should say something that may be very well to say that. Lady Dudley was walking home through the park to see all the way with you. Dear, O dear! Want to get some wind off my chest first. Red Murray whispered. She was now in cold print but it goes down like hot cake that stuff.

Or like Mario, Mr Bloom phoned from the stable. In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy asked.

―He took off his spectacles and, blowing out impatiently his bushy moustache, welshcombed his hair with raking fingers.

―Lenehan came out of the interest with which Dorothea had looked up with some sense there. Mr Bloom said simply.

SHORT BUT TO THE EDITOR. ORTHOGRAPHICAL.

―Fred, coloring. Keyes just now? Do you know. Myles Crawford.

―All his brains are in love with me. J.J. O'Molloy took the tissues in his easy smiling way, tho' quarrelling with all manner merchandise furrow the waters of Neptune's blue domain, 'mid mossy banks, fanned by gentlest zephyrs, played on by the stomach. Welts of flesh behind on him.

LIFE ON PROBOSCIS.

―What is it? Going to be. She wondered how a man.

―Something with a contemptuous gesture, you are a young man of the intellect.

―Careless chap. No; on the Independent. O boys! I was listening. World's biggest balloon.

SUFFICIENT FOR OLD MAN MOSES.

―Three bob I lent him in the papers and then bent at once but slowly from J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and walked on through the gallery on to the speaker. Anything is easy to him in, said Lydgate, safely married and with the Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down, or shall I bore you?

Don't you think really of that, the professor said. Mr Bloom said slowly: Pardon, monsieur, Lenehan prefaced.

―She had never been so disagreeable before. Might go first himself. Losing heart.

HOUSE OF KEYES. ONLY ONCE MORE THAT SOAP. OMNIUM GATHERUM.

―The gentle art of advertisement. He handed the sheet and made a bad fellow in any case be disappointed. We're in the peerless panorama of Ireland's portfolio, unmatched, despite their wellpraised prototypes in other vaunted prize regions, for very beauty, of Roman justice as contrasted with the air of self-culture was the smartest piece of journalism ever known. Reaping the whirlwind.

-Table. —Bingbang, bangbang.

Yes … Yes … Yes … Yes.

RHYMES AND THE RAW.

We can do as well keep a pack of hounds. The letter, pursing up his lips, Mr Dedalus said, if the opportunity came: the world and trying mentally to construct it as a reforming landlord, Ladislaw, nettled, and Mr. Brooke, You must set me the example, as some people pretended, more clever and sensible than the writing was not only a Polish emissary but crack-brained, which gave variety to his mother, shouldn't you?

IMPROMPTU. ORTHOGRAPHICAL.

―You give up St. Poor papa with his speech last night? Might, could, if I did love you.

HELLO THERE, ESQUIRE, SANDYMOUNT. HIS NATIVE DORIC.

―All very fine to jeer at it yourself? It is quite possible that I have written to somebody and got an answer. Lord Salisbury?

―Foot and mouth? Wait for wisdom and conscience in public agents—fiddlestick!

―Out of an advertisement.

I like that part.

―Reads it backwards first. He thought it probable that Miss Brooke? —Call it, Myles Crawford began on the whole question would go to hell, the editor said proudly.

VIRGILIAN, GREEN GEM OF THE PEN IS TURNED OUT.

He is a man now at the mature age of seven.

―That is the newspaper on his heart.

The radiance of the catholic chivalry of Europe that foundered at Trafalgar and of prophecy which, after all.

THE GREAT DAILY ORGAN IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY. ITHACANS VOW PEN.

―Professor MacHugh nodded. Jesusmario with rougy cheeks, doublet and spindle legs.

―The mother's eyes are not half such good judges as yourself, Mr Bloom asked.

#Ulysses (novel) #James Joyce #1922 #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Aeolous #George Eliot #Victorian novels #British novelists #Bildungsromaener #didactic literature #Marian Evans #19th century #Middlemarch (novel)

[thesilvervoice]

Newtonwforbes in County Longford  is a small village located  just a few miles outside Longford town, on the busy N4 Dublin to Sligo road.  Originally known as Lisbrack (Lios Breac in Irish), the name was changed to Newtownforbes in the middle of the 18th Century by the Forbes family, who were granted the lands here in the early 1600s. The Forbes family, with the title Earls of Granard, have lived in the village for over 300 years.

The gates to Castle Forbes are in the middle of the village.

Castle Forbes, the seat of the Earls of Granard (Image accessed on Flickr)

The present Castle was constructed in the 19th Century – the original built c.1624  was destroyed by fire. As this is a family home, the entire demesne is private and not open to the public.

Introduced Grey Squirrel (Image Wikipedia)

In 1911, the grey squirrel was introduced here. An indigenous species of North America, several pairs were given as a wedding gift to a member of the Forbes family in 1911. A number escaped and went on to breed prolifically and almost annihilate the native Irish red squirrel. Fortunately the progress of the grey squirrel seems to have finally been halted in recent years, and the red squirrel is again increasing in numbers.

The main street in Newtownforbes has remained largely unchanged over the decades with modern development confined largely to side streets.  Two churches dominate the village, both provided by the Forbes family.  The Church of Ireland church of St. Paul, built  about 1820, replaced an earlier church from 1694.  The graveyard here has been mapped and recorded by Historic Graves, with the earliest burial recorded at 1698. See link below.

St Paul’s Newtownforbes

Door at St. Paul’s

The Graveyard at St Paul’s

Information on surnames

There is a Forbes family crypt in this churchyard and interestingly, and unusually I would think, there is another Forbes family mausoleum attached to the  Roman Catholic Church of St. Mary’s.

  The Mausoleum at St Pauls. Beatrice, Countess of Granard (1883-1972)

The Forbes Mausoleum at the Roman Catholic Church . c 1880

Forbes family coat of arms.

Remains of 7th Earl and his wife Jane repose here

The Catholic Church of St Mary’s, where I was baptized, is in the centre of the village. This is the parish church of Clonguish. It has been almost totally remodelled in recent times.

Clonguish RC parish Church

However, it used to look like this:

Original RC Clonguish Parish church in Newtownforbes. (Image retrieved from NLI at  http://catalogue.nli.ie/Record/vtls000330897)

The ‘explanation’ for this dramatic change appears on this plaque at the side of the church. It would appear that the term ‘restoration’ can have a very broad meaning!

Plaque marking the 1974 work on the RC Church in Newtownforbes.

Either side of the main entrance door are two carved heads, which may or may not represent specific people. These are part of the original church, built 1861-1864.

One of two carved faces at main entrance

One of two carved faces at main church door

I had hoped that some of the interior survived the renewal, in particular the baptismal font at which I was christened, but I was to be disappointed.  With the possible exception of the brass sanctuary lamp, some stained glass windows and the mosaic memorial to the local nobility, everything else seems to be modern.

  Main Altar St Mary’s, Newtownforbes

Lovely stained glass windows with mosaic memorial.

More stained glass windows

Original(?) brass sanctuary lamp

The new round stained glass window is very attractive and compliments the interior. The original side aisles have been removed and everything within seems to be very modern.

New round window and new pine ceiling

Modern stained glass window

Returning to this little village in the midlands of Ireland is always poignant. The Station House, in which we were born and where we spent many happy times with our grandparents, was built in the 1860s and closed as a railway station in 1963 . It is now a beautifully maintained private residence. It is always nice to stand on the little bridge and look down to the place where we made many happy memories.

Newtownforbes Station House, where our grandparents lived

The railway line is still in use. I have lovely memories of walking along the line with my grandfather. The main telephone lines ran on poles along the line in those days. and he used to lift me up and place my ear against the poles to hear them ‘singing’.

The Dublin – Sligo line is still in use although the station is closed.

It was always exciting to cross over this little bridge as we knew we had arrived for more adventures!

The railway bridge at Newtownforbes Station

Quite near the Station is the abandoned Lisbrack House. Most recently a nursing home, it was once a school and a bishop’s home. To the best of my recollection our mother was taught to play the piano in this building by a very cranky nun who was also a great pianist!

Former Lisbrack House

Another prominent religious site on the main street is the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy. About 1869 the nuns were invited here by the Earl of Granard who provided the site for the buildings to enable them to educate the children of the estate. An orphanage and industrial school were also established here.  Sadly this site had a role in the tragic legacy of such establishments in Ireland. The school and convent are now closed and I understand that these rather nice buildings are now apartments.

The convent chapel

Convent Building

The village has many buildings from the 19th and early 20th centuries. The two storey tudor style house is one of a pair provided for estate workers and it was in these that County Longford’s first flushing toilets were installed.

A Tudor style house built for estate workers – among the first in the county to have flushing toilets!

Many  of the houses would would have originally been thatched and unfortunately many are no longer occupied.

Varied housing styles

Original lsash windows in this little cottage

The same cottage from across the street

No longer occupied

The village hall

The former RIC Barracks built c. 1900 was burned during the War of Independence. It was later rebuilt for the use of the Garda Siochana (Irish Police) and is now a private residence.

The former Newtownforbes RIC Station

This interesting item is the Famine Pump. It was provided by Lord Granard as a Famine Relief scheme. It sits alongside a building that started life as a shooting range in Longford army barracks.  It was purchased by a local who erected here c.1933 and is known locally as Christy’s Hall.

Famine Water Pump and Christy’s Hall

The hard work of the local tidy towns volunteers is evident throughout the village.

  And local junior artists have also been decorating the hoarding surrounding the former school buildings.

A board inside the church lists the townlands in the parish of Clonguish, which derives from the Irish ‘Cluain Geis’ which means The Meadow of the Swans.

Newtownforbes is the last resting place of our grandparents as well as an uncle and aunt and visits nowadays are o pay respects at their graves in the new cemetery.

Entrance to the ‘new’ cemetery

The ‘old’ catholic cemetery now largely unused

Newtownforbes old RC Cemetery

One of the great delights of my brief visit discovering a great little restaurant  called Tús Nua right on the main street, so if you happen to be passing through, drop in for a wee wander through this quaint little village and enjoy a fabulous coffee in this delightful coffee house!

References

http://historicgraves.com/graveyard/newtown-forbes/ld-spnf

http://http://catalogue.nli.ie/Record/vtls000317412

http://www.buildingsofireland.ie

    Postcards from Newtownforbes Co. Longford Newtonwforbes in County Longford  is a small village located  just a few miles outside Longford town, on the busy N4 Dublin to Sligo road. 

#Castle Forbes #Clonguish Parish #County Longford #Earls of Granard #Famine Pump #Grey Squirrel #Heritage Church Newtownforbes #Newtownforbes #Newtownforbes Station #Red Squirrel #St Pauls Church of Ireland

[theloosecannonbuchanan]

Martin Savage : Ambush at Ashtown

Ireland 1919 and The War of Independence is in its opening stages. George V rules the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland via his Prime Minister David Lloyd George. On the 28th June that summer the Treaty of Versailles had been signed and as the Great War closed the British Empire felt moderately assured that it’s oldest, closest and most rebellious colony would soon come to heel. But the insurrection had only begun. On January 21st of that year, with the tragedy and glory of Easter 1916 still haunting the islands collective consciousness, a renegade Dail Eireann met for the first time in the Mansion House in Dublin.

 19th December 1919 Ashtown, a townland of Castleknock. An IRA volunteer column lead by Paddy Daly and consisted of Mick McDonnell, Tom Kehoe, Sean Tracey, Seamus Robinson, Sean Hogan, Vincent Byrne, Tom Kilkoyne, Joe Leonard, Dan Breen and Martin Savage plan an ambush on the highest authority of the British Crown in Ireland. Their target was the British Viceroy, Lord Lieutenant and Supreme Commander of the British Army in Ireland himself, Lord John French.

Savage was a volunteer officer in the 2nd Battalion Dublin Brigade of the IRA. The son of a Fenian activist he had originally chosen life as a grocer, his employer described the shy teen as "a steady, sober and industrious young man, gentlemanly in manner and extremely courteous.” However, he would find himself leaving civilian life behind and being caught in the crucible of the fight for Irish freedom. Having moved to Dublin from Sligo as a teenager he fought in the Rising at the tender age of 17. He was taken prisoner in Richmond Barracks and escaped execution by deportation to Cheshire in England where he was detained at Knutsford Barracks. On his release, he returned to the fight in Ireland obtaining the rank of Lieutenant.

 Attempts at tracking Lord French to a viable vulnerable ambush point had been frustrated for three months. Ashtown was chosen as French was scheduled to get off a train from Roscommon at the nearby station before being escorted in a two car convoy to the Vice-Regal Lodge in Phoenix Park. IRA intelligence reported that French usually occupied the second car in the armed convoy. It was a daring plan against considerable odds, however, the risk was considered worth it as killing the Viceroy would strike a huge blow against the British occupational forces and be a massive rallying call for the fledgeling Republic.

Breen formulated a plan where Martin Savage, Tom Kehoe and Dan Breen would partially obstruct the road with a cartful of hay at the crossroads where the Halfway House now stands, and where the Martin Savage memorial is located. When the first car had passed the cart the squad would completely block the road, signally the beginning of the attack on French in car two using Mills Bombs, a type of WW1 grenade. The volunteers had some revolvers and automatic pistols. They expected heavy resistance but a successful outcome would send shockwaves through the British Empire.

However on that faithful day luck would not be on their side. Synchronising with Frenches train arrival at 11:40 a.m., the volunteers left Kelly’s pub (The Halfway House) and took their ambush positions at the crossroads. Unexpectedly a Royal Irish Constabulary (RIC) officer appeared on the scene and spotted the men with the cart. He ordered them to stop. Thinking on their feet they threw a grenade at him. Although it didn’t detonate knocked the man unconscious and he was dragged off out of sight in to the undergrowth.

Critically, when the vehicles arrived disaster struck a second time that day as French had chosen to use the first car in the convoy.  With French on the safe side of the blockade, when the IRA attacked the second car their quarry made his escape and the two RIC officers D/Sgt Halley and Constable O’Loughlin in the second car began to fire.  The driver of the second car and volunteer Dan Breen were wounded in the initial exchanges of the fierce firefight, Breen taking a non-fatal hit to the leg. The volunteers regrouped under the hail of bullets. Savage positioned himself behind the hay cart and began to return fire with his automatic pistol. Alerted by car one, reinforcement British forces in another car swiftly arrived with rifles. Savage tried to throw a grenade at the newly arrived crown forces but as he broke cover Sgt. Rumbold saw his chance and fatally shot him through the neck. With his last words "I'm done, but carry on...." Savage died in the arms of his comrade Dan Breen. He was 21 years old.

 Seen by many detractors at the time as a hopeless act of folly, the bravery of the attempt however doomed, demonstrated that the British had their weaknesses and hammered another nail in the coffin of imperial rule over Ireland. Savage`s sacrifice succeeded in helping catalyse a generation of Irish men and women to take up the cause of Irish independence. His memorial at the scene of the ambush, the roundabout at the old Phoenix Park racecourse and the Halfway house, was erected in 1948 by The National Graves Association at Ashtown Cross. Martin Savage’s remains were buried with full military honours in his native Ballisodare, Co. Sligo

#ira #ireland #dublin #history #1916 easter rising #martin #savage

[christinaepilzauthor-blog]

George William Russell (AE) - Writer, Painter, Philosopher, Social Activist

by Arthur Russell

 George William Russell was born in the rural townland of Drumgor, near the town of Lurgan, Co Armagh, Northern Ireland on April 10th 1867 to Thomas Elias Russell and Mary (nee Armstrong). He was baptized in the nearby Shankill church. He was the youngest of three children; a brother Thomas Samuel who was 3 years older and sister Mary Elizabeth, who was one year older. When he was 11 years old, the family moved to Dublin to allow father Thomas to take up a new job in a brewery. George was sent to the Metropolitan School of Art where he befriended the principal teacher's son, William Butler Yeats, who was destined to become the brightest light of the Irish Literary revival as well as a future Nobel prize winner for literature.

When George was 17, the Russell family was dealt a severe blow with the death of his sister Mary Elizabeth. The poignant poem "A Memory" gives indication of how her death affected him, and was an early indication of his writing talent.

You remember dear together 


Two children you and I 


Sat once in the Autumn weather

Watching the Autumn sky

There was someone around us straying 


The whole of the long day through 


Who seemed to say, "I am playing 


At hide and seek with you"

And one thing after another

Was whispered out of the air

How God was a great big brother

Whose home is everywhere

His light like a smile comes glancing

Through the cool winds as they pass

From the flowers in heaven dancing

To the stars that shine in the grass

The heart of the wise was beating

Sweet sweet in our hearts that day

And many a thought came fleeting

And fancies solemn and gay

We were grave in our ways divining 


How childhood was taking wings 


And the wonderful world was shining 


With vast eternal things.

His Cooperative Work

After leaving Art School, where he developed his painting skills, but obviously not enough to consider taking up painting as a full time profession capable of giving him an income, he went to work in his father's employer's brewery. Later he became a clerk in Pim's drapery store in Dublin, where he was earning 60 pounds sterling per annum by the time he resigned to join the budding Irish Cooperative and Credit Union movements at the invitation of the Irish Agricultural Organisation Society (IAOS) founder, Sir Horace Plunkett.  His first job with IAOS was as Banks Organiser, but his writing ability soon saw him contributing to and then editing the Society's magazine The Irish Homestead which later merged with The Irish Statesman. He had a strong social sense and threw himself wholeheartedly into the development of the Cooperative movement as a means of supporting the economic development and market integration of emergent small holder proprietors that the various Land Purchase Acts were creating all over Ireland at the time. His cooperative work brought him to every part of Ireland, most of which still had searing and recent memories of famine and eviction which were seen as outcomes of the centuries old landlord system of land ownership in Ireland.

He edited the IAOS publication until 1930, which provided him with an outlet to display his writing talents as well as giving him a facility to mix the practical with the visionary (the vision and the dream). His boyhood experience as the son of a small holder farming community in Armagh helped him to provide well grounded technical advice to his farmer readers, at the same time giving him opportunity to outline philosophical thoughts on what the social and political future for his rural readers might be. He was sought after as a speaker lecturer not only in Ireland, but also in the United Kingdom and pre and post Depression era United States of the 1920's and 1930's.  

After his death in England in 1935, his body was returned to Dublin and lay in state for a day in Plunkett House, headquarters of IAOS, before it was brought to Mount Jerome cemetery for burial.

His Literary Work

Cover of AE's first publication (1894) Drawing by the author

His first book of poems, Homeward: Songs by the Way, published in 1894, established George William Russell as one of the leading lights of the Irish Literary Revival. His friend W B Yeats considered this little book as one of the most important literary offerings of the day.

The Origin of His Pseudonym "AE"

As his literary reputation grew he adopted the pseudonym "AE", derived from the word Aeon. This is a gnostic term used to describe the first created being. The story is told that his printer had difficulty deciphering Russell's handwriting and could only discern the first two letters of the 4 letter word in his manuscript. When asked to clarify the remaining two letters of the word, Russell decided not to add to what had already been composited by the printer and thereafter used AE to sign off on all subsequent offerings.  His mystic disposition had earlier caused him to join the small Theosophist movement in Dublin for several years, but he left after the death of its founder, Madame Blavatsky. While living there he met his future wife, Violet North and married her in 1897. The couple lived for some time in Coulson Avenue where they were neighbours to Maude Gonne and Count and Countess Markiewicz.

He was an active member and contributor to the Irish Literary Society, which was founded by his friend W B Yeats and others. The early moving force for the literary movement was the writings of Standish O'Grady who looked at Ireland's romantic past for inspiration. On reading O'Grady, Russell was moved to write "one suddenly feels ancient memories rushing at him and knows he was born in a royal house - it was the memory of race which rose up within me."

His Theatrical Work

Yeats and Russell shared a passion for the theatre and together they formed the National Theatre Company, later called the Abbey Theatre in Dublin. Yeats was President, Russell Vice-President and among the Committee members were Maud Gonne and the Gaelic language scholar and later first President of the Republic of Ireland, Douglas Hyde. Russell's play Deirdre is credited to have been the spark that set the Irish dramatic movement alight. Not only did he write the play, he also designed the costumes in its first production. His brilliant but eccentric personality contributed mightily to the evolving Irish literary revival, which is popularly referred to as the "Celtic twilight".

His Paintings:

Bathers - by AE (exhibited in 1904)

Russell had a talent for painting, which he followed during his life, mainly for his own recreation "whenever words failed him". There is a respectable gallery of his works which would lead one to question how good and enduring his painting legacy would be if he had invested more time and effort into that side of his output. We will never know. Suffice it to say, his paintings have a significant market and are well regarded by many.

The Irish Times newspaper, on the occasion of the centenary of the first exhibition of his paintings in 1904 at which he sold an amazing 68 paintings – many to the noted New York art collector, John Tobin; suggested it is high time for another exhibition to create awareness and appreciation of AE's art.    

Russell the Social Activist

He was destined to live through troubled times in Ireland and much change. The first two decades of the 20th century were the final years of the British Empire in Ireland and ushered in the formative years of the new Irish Free State that emerged in the aftermath of the Irish War of Independence in 1919-1921. It was never in Russell's nature to be a mere bystander or spectator in the movements of his times, and he engaged fully in trying to formulate what kind of Ireland would face into the last century of the millennium. As a visionary, poet, painter, author, journalist, economist and (finally) an agricultural expert he had views aplenty and was never slow to express them with great articulation and conviction.

He was involved in the general strike of 1913 and took part in a mass meeting in Albert Hall London in support of the Dublin strikers, where he shared the platform with George Bernard Shaw and suffragette Sylvia Pankhurst. He was an Irish Nationalist, but as a committed pacifist he deplored the violence of the Nationalist inspired Dublin Rebellion in Easter 1916. This did not stop him from organising a subscription for the widow of one of the executed leaders, James Connolly, who he had befriended during the 1913 strike; both men having shared views on how to deal with the exploitative attitude of many employers of the time.

The following lines written by Russell indicates something of the dilemma he and many pacifist nationalists of the day felt. He could admire the idealism of those who followed Patrick Pearse in taking up the gun in pursuit of nationalist ideals, but like many others he had serious issues with bloodletting as a means to achieve them.    

"And yet my spirit rose in pride

Refashioning in burnished gold

The images of those who died

Or were shut up in penal cell

Here's to you Pearse, your dream, not mine

And yet the thought- for this you fell

Has turned life's water into wine".

(from To the memory of some I knew who are dead and loved Ireland  - 1917)

He was conscious his adherence to non main stream views and opinions at a time when the extremes on both sides of the political divide were in clear ascendancy, drew sharp criticism from many, but he remained stoically unapologetic for his pacifism through that most turbulent period of Irish history.

On Behalf of Some Irishmen Not Followers of Tradition

They call us aliens we are told 


Because our wayward visions stray 


From that dim banner they unfold 


The dreams of worn out yesterday.

We hold the Ireland of the heart 


More than the land our eyes have seen 


And love the goal for which we start 


More than the tale of what has been.

No blazoned banner we unfold 


One charge alone we give to youth 


Against the sceptred myth to hold 


The golden heresy of truth.

His Relationship With the Newly Independent Irish State

George William Russell was disappointed that Irish independence was painfully slow in bringing the cultural and social flowering for which he yearned. He was of the opinion that the emerging rather puritanical state with its narrow vision, of which censorship of arts and writing was one of its most potent instruments, effectively blocked intellectual and artistic freedom as it tried to establish the new nation during the 1920s and 30s. He was particularly critical of the excessive influence the Catholic Hierarchy had manage to establish over the emergent body politic. It was his discomfort with this, along with the death of his wife a year earlier that caused him to leave Ireland in the aftermath of the 1932 Eucharistic Congress which was held in Dublin and which he considered a potent demonstration of over pervasive clerical power.

He moved to Bournemouth in England where he died in 1935.

His Support to Young Writers and Artists

During his years in Dublin, his company was much sought after and his home in Rathgar Avenue, Dublin became a meeting place for those interested in the Arts and Economics. He paid special attention to young talent, which he did all in his power to groom and encourage.

He was an endless source of support and advice to emerging writers. He first met James Joyce in 1902 and encouraged him to hone his craft as a writer. He once loaned him money, which Joyce acknowledged pithily with a written "AEIOU".

One of his lesser known acts was to support the American writer Pamela Lyndon Travers, the future author of Mary Poppins (published 1934) at a time when her interest in myths brought her into contact with both Yeats and himself in 1924. AE encouraged her to write and even published some of her writings in The Irish Statesman.

Simone Tery the French writer in L'ile des Bards wrote about him:

"Do you want to know about providence, the origin of the universe, the end of the universe? 
Go to AE. 


Do you want to know about Gaelic literature? 
Go to AE. 


Do you want to know about the Celtic soul? 
Go to AE. 


Do you want to know about Irish History? 
Go to AE. 


Do you want to know about the export of eggs? 
Go to AE. 


Do you want to know how to run society? 
Go to AE. 


If you find life insipid - 
Go to AE. 


If you need a friend - 
Go to AE.

These lines from a contemporary are a fitting accolade for one of Ireland's not so well known writers who played a vital role in what is now known as the Celtic revival.

Author's Note – While I had always been aware of George William Russell, otherwise known as AE, with whom I share a surname: I was not so aware of any family connection with him until very recently, when a distant cousin with interest in genealogy put focus on a lady called Frances Mary McGee, whose mother was a daughter of our common great grandfather. This lady married the brother of George William (AE), and while his surname was also Russell, Thomas Elias was not directly related to "our" Russells. (At least we need to go much further back to find any blood linkage). This information about Frances Mary caused me to remember conversations in my own family about a distant cousin called Fanny (short for Frances) McGee, second cousin to my father who had married into a family associated with artists and poets. Who else could it have been?

It was a personal Eureka moment, as I share some of AE's interests (though not necessarily his unique talent) for reading, writing, (I really know little about painting!) As well I share a strong belief in the positive role of self-help cooperative endeavor for solving problems facing Agriculture in feeding today's World's burgeoning population.

Arthur Russell is the Author of Morgallion, a novel set in medieval Ireland during the Invasion of Ireland in 1314 by the Scottish army led by Edward deBruce, the last crowned King of Ireland. It tells the story of Cormac MacLochlainn, a young man from the Gaelic crannóg community of Moynagh and how he, his family and his dreams endured and survived that turbulent period of history. Morgallion was awarded the indieBRAG Medallion and is available in paperback and e-book form.

Further information from [email protected]

Hat Tip To: English Historical Fiction Authors

[seachranaidhe]

Máire Drumm murdered in her hospital bed.

On 28th October 1976, 28 years ago, Sinn Féin Vice President Máire Drumm was shot dead in her hospital bed. Máire Drumm (née McAteer), was born in the townland of Killeen, South Armagh, on 22 October 1919 to a staunchly republican family. Máire’s mother had been active in the Tan War and the Civil War. In 1940, Máire joined Sinn Féin in Dublin. In 1942, she moved to Belfast, which became her…

View On WordPress

#"For Christ sake stay up" "People should not shout out up the IRA" #"peace keepers" #"The people of Derry are off their bended knees" #&039;57 to &039;61 #&039;seditious&039; speeches #1940 #1942 #1960s #1972 #1976 #22nd October 1919 #28 years ago today #28th October 1976 #active #admitted #adopted city #Andersonstown #armed struggle #became Vice President #Belfast #born #British Army #British Troops #buried #carry food parcels #cataract operation #city #Civil Rights activest #Civil rights movement #Civil War