Улисс

           Believesmedead,rockedinthecradleofthedeep.AndtheresitsuncleChubborTomkin,asthecasemightbe,thepublicanoftheCrownandAnchor,inshirtsleeves,eatingrumpsteakandonions.Nochairforfather.Broo!Thewind!Herbrandnewarrivalisonherknee,postmortemchild.Withahighro!andarandyro!andmygallopingtearingtandy,O!Bowtotheinevitable.Grinandbearit.IremainwithmuchloveyourbrokenheartedhusbandW.B.Murphy.

           Thesailor,whoscarcelyseemedtobeaDublinresident,turnedtooneofthejarvieswiththerequest:

           —Youdon’thappentohavesuchathingasasparechawaboutyou?

           Thejarveyaddressedasithappenedhadnotbutthekeepertookadieofplugfromhisgoodjackethangingonanailandthedesiredobjectwaspassedfromhandtohand.

           —Thankyou,thesailorsaid.

           Hedepositedthequidinhisgoband,chewingandwithsomeslowstammers,proceeded:

           —Wecomeupthismorningeleveno’clock.ThethreemasterRoseveanfromBridgwaterwithbricks.Ishippedtogetover.Paidoffthisafternoon.There’smydischarge.See?D.B.Murphy.A.B.S.

           Inconfirmationofwhichstatementheextricatedfromaninsidepocketandhandedtohisneighbouranotverycleanlookingfoldeddocument.

           —Youmusthaveseenafairshareoftheworld,thekeeperremarked,leaningonthecounter.

           —Why,thesailoranswereduponreflectionuponit,I’vecircumnavigatedabitsinceIfirstjoinedon.IwasintheRedSea.IwasinChinaandNorthAmericaandSouthAmerica.Wewaschasedbypiratesonevoyage.Iseenicebergsplenty,growlers.