Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/146

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143

Blackrock and Dalkey, Sandymount Green, Ringsend and Sandymount tower Donnybrook, Palmerston Park and Upper Rathmines, all still, becalmed in short circuit. Hackney cars, cabs, delivery waggons, mailvans, private broughams, aerated mineral water floats with rattling crates of bottles, rattled, rolled, horsedrawn, rapidly.


WHAT? — AND LIKEWISE — WHERE?

—But what do you call it? Myles Crawford asked. Where did they get the plums?


VIRGILIAN, SAYS PEDAGOGUE. SOPHOMORE PLUMPS FOR OLD MAN MOSES

—Call it, wait, the professor said, opening his long lips wide to reflect. Call it, let me see. Call it: deus nobis hæc otia fecit.

—No, Stephen said, I call it A Pisgah Sight of Palestine or The Parable of The Plums.

—I see, the professor said.

He laughed richly.

—I see, he said again with new pleasure. Moses and the promised land. We gave him that idea, he added to J. J. O’Molloy.


HORATIO IS CYNOSURE THIS FAIR JUNE DAY

J. J. O’Molloy sent a weary sidelong glance towards the statue and held his peace.

—I see, the professor said.

He halted on sir John Gray’s pavement island and peered aloft at Nelson through the meshes of his wry smile.


DIMINISHED DIGITS PROVE TOO TITILLATING FOR FRISKY FRUMPS. ANNE WIMBLES, FLO WANGLES — YET CAN YOU BLAME THEM?

—Onehandled adulterer, he said grimly. That tickles me I must say.

—Tickled the old ones too, Myles Crawford said, if the God Almighty’s truth was known.