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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 136/821
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Water
rushed
roaring
through
the
sluices
.
A
man
stood
on
his
dropping
barge
,
between
clamps
of
turf
.
On
the
towpath
by
the
lock
a
slacktethered
horse
.
Aboard
of
the
Bugabu
.
Their
eyes
watched
him
.
On
the
slow
weedy
waterway
he
had
floated
on
his
raft
coastward
over
Ireland
drawn
by
a
haulage
rope
past
beds
of
reeds
,
over
slime
,
mudchoked
bottles
,
carrion
dogs
.
Athlone
,
Mullingar
,
Moyvalley
,
I
could
make
a
walking
tour
to
see
Milly
by
the
canal
.
Or
cycle
down
.
Hire
some
old
crock
,
safety
.
Wren
had
one
the
other
day
at
the
auction
but
a
lady
’
s
.
Developing
waterways
.
James
M
’
Cann
’
s
hobby
to
row
me
o
’
er
the
ferry
.
Cheaper
transit
.
By
easy
stages
.
Houseboats
.
Camping
out
.
Also
hearses
.
To
heaven
by
water
.
Perhaps
I
will
without
writing
.
Come
as
a
surprise
,
Leixlip
,
Clonsilla
.
Dropping
down
lock
by
lock
to
Dublin
.
With
turf
from
the
midland
bogs
.
Salute
.
He
lifted
his
brown
straw
hat
,
saluting
Paddy
Dignam
.
They
drove
on
past
Brian
Boroimhe
house
.
Near
it
now
.
—
I
wonder
how
is
our
friend
Fogarty
getting
on
,
Mr
Power
said
.
—
Better
ask
Tom
Kernan
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
.
—
How
is
that
?
Martin
Cunningham
said
.
Left
him
weeping
,
I
suppose
?
—
Though
lost
to
sight
,
Mr
Dedalus
said
,
to
memory
dear
.
The
carriage
steered
left
for
Finglas
road
.
The
stonecutter
’
s
yard
on
the
right
.
Last
lap
.
Crowded
on
the
spit
of
land
silent
shapes
appeared
,
white
,
sorrowful
,
holding
out
calm
hands
,
knelt
in
grief
,
pointing
.
Fragments
of
shapes
,
hewn
.
In
white
silence
:
appealing
.
The
best
obtainable
.
Thos
.
H
.
Dennany
,
monumental
builder
and
sculptor
.
