Mr Power’s choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage.
— Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny!
— We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said.
Mr Dedalus sighed.
— Ah then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn’t grudge us a laugh.
Many a good one he told himself.
— The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his
fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and
he was in his usual health that I’d be driving after him like this. He’s gone
— As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went
— Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart.
He tapped his chest sadly.
Blazing face : redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose.
Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colouring it.
Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension.
— He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said.
— The best death, Mr Bloom said.
Their wide open eyes looked at him.
— No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep.
Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance
hotel, Falconer’s railway guide, civil service college, Gill’s, catholic club, the
industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or wind. At night too. Chummies
and slaveys. Under the patronage of the late Father Matew. Foundation stone
for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart.
White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda
corner, galloping. A tinycoffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning
coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for a nun.
— Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child.
A dwarf’s face mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy’s was. Dwarf’s body,
weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society pays. Penny a
week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of
nature. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. If not the man. Better luck next