Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/36

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33
 

       May I trespass on your valuable space. That doctrine of laissez faire which
so often in our history. Our cattle trade. The way of all our old industries.
Liverpool ring which jockeyed the Galway harbour scheme. European
conflagration. Grain supplies through the narrow waters of the channel. The
pluterperfect imperturbability of the department of agriculture. Pardoned a
classical allusion. Cassandra. By a woman who was no better than she should
be. To come to the point at issue.
        I don’t mince words, do I? Mr Deasy asked as Stephen read on.
       Foot and mouth disease. Known as Koch’s preparation. Serum and virus.
Percentage of salted horses. Rinderpest. Emperor’s horses at Mürzsteg, lower
Austria. Veterinary surgeons. Mr Henry Blackwood Price. Courteous offer a fair
trial, Dictates of common sense. Allimportant question. In every sense of the
word take the bull by the horns. Thanking you for the hospitality of your
columns.
        I want that to be printed and read, Mr Deasy said. You will see at the
next outbreak they will put an embargo on Irish cattle. And it can be cured.
It is cured. My cousin, Blackwood Price, writes to me it is regularly treated
and cured in Austria by cattledoctors there. They offer to come over here. I
am trying to work up influence with the department. Now I’m going to try
publicity. I am surrounded by difficulties, by... intrigues, by... backstairs
influence, by...
       He raised his forefinger and beat the air oldly before his voice spoke.
        Mark my words, Mr Dedalus, he said. England is in the hands of the
jews. In all the highest places : her finance, her press. And they are the signs
of a nation’s decay. Wherever they gather they eat up the nation’s vital strength.
I have seen it coming these years. As sure as we are standing here the jew
merchants are already at their work of destruction. Old England is dying.
       He stepped swiftly off, his eyes coming to blue life as they passed a broad
sunbeam. He faced about and back again.
        Dying, he said, if not dead by now.

                              The harlot’s cry from street to street
                              Shall weave old England’s winding sheet.

       His eyes open wide in vision stared sternly across the sunbeam in which
he halted.