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- Джеймс Джойс
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- Стр. 215/821
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His
slow
feet
walked
him
riverward
,
reading
.
Are
you
saved
?
All
are
washed
in
the
blood
of
the
lamb
.
God
wants
blood
victim
.
Birth
,
hymen
,
martyr
,
war
,
foundation
of
a
building
,
sacrifice
,
kidney
burntoffering
,
druids
’
altars
.
Elijah
is
coming
.
Dr
John
Alexander
Dowie
restorer
of
the
church
in
Zion
is
coming
.
Is
coming
!
Is
coming
!
!
Is
coming
!
!
!
All
heartily
welcome
.
Paying
game
.
Torry
and
Alexander
last
year
.
Polygamy
.
His
wife
will
put
the
stopper
on
that
.
Where
was
that
ad
some
Birmingham
firm
the
luminous
crucifix
.
Our
Saviour
.
Wake
up
in
the
dead
of
night
and
see
him
on
the
wall
,
hanging
.
Pepper
’
s
ghost
idea
.
Iron
Nails
Ran
In
.
Phosphorus
it
must
be
done
with
.
If
you
leave
a
bit
of
codfish
for
instance
.
I
could
see
the
bluey
silver
over
it
.
Night
I
went
down
to
the
pantry
in
the
kitchen
.
Don
’
t
like
all
the
smells
in
it
waiting
to
rush
out
.
What
was
it
she
wanted
?
The
Malaga
raisins
.
Thinking
of
Spain
.
Before
Rudy
was
born
.
The
phosphorescence
,
that
bluey
greeny
.
Very
good
for
the
brain
.
From
Butler
’
s
monument
house
corner
he
glanced
along
Bachelor
’
s
walk
.
Dedalus
’
daughter
there
still
outside
Dillon
’
s
auctionrooms
.
Must
be
selling
off
some
old
furniture
.
Knew
her
eyes
at
once
from
the
father
.
Lobbing
about
waiting
for
him
.
Home
always
breaks
up
when
the
mother
goes
.
Fifteen
children
he
had
.
Birth
every
year
almost
.
That
’
s
in
their
theology
or
the
priest
won
’
t
give
the
poor
woman
the
confession
,
the
absolution
.
Increase
and
multiply
.
Did
you
ever
hear
such
an
idea
?
Eat
you
out
of
house
and
home
.
No
families
themselves
to
feed
.
Living
on
the
fat
of
the
land
.
Their
butteries
and
larders
.
I
’
d
like
to
see
them
do
the
black
fast
Yom
Kippur
.
Crossbuns
.
One
meal
and
a
collation
for
fear
he
’
d
collapse
on
the
altar
.
A
housekeeper
of
one
of
those
fellows
if
you
could
pick
it
out
of
her
.
Never
pick
it
out
of
her
.
Like
getting
£
.
s
.
d
.
out
of
him
.
Does
himself
well
.
No
guests
.
All
for
number
one
.
Watching
his
water
.
Bring
your
own
bread
and
butter
.
His
reverence
:
mum
’
s
the
word
.
Good
Lord
,
that
poor
child
’
s
dress
is
in
flitters
.
Underfed
she
looks
too
.
Potatoes
and
marge
,
marge
and
potatoes
.
It
’
s
after
they
feel
it
.
Proof
of
the
pudding
.
Undermines
the
constitution
.
As
he
set
foot
on
O
’
Connell
bridge
a
puffball
of
smoke
plumed
up
from
the
parapet
.
Brewery
barge
with
export
stout
.
England
.
Sea
air
sours
it
,
I
heard
.
Be
interesting
some
day
get
a
pass
through
Hancock
to
see
the
brewery
.
Regular
world
in
itself
.
Vats
of
porter
wonderful
.
Rats
get
in
too
.
Drink
themselves
bloated
as
big
as
a
collie
floating
.
Dead
drunk
on
the
porter
.
Drink
till
they
puke
again
like
christians
.
Imagine
drinking
that
!
Rats
:
vats
.
Well
,
of
course
,
if
we
knew
all
the
things
.
Looking
down
he
saw
flapping
strongly
,
wheeling
between
the
gaunt
quaywalls
,
gulls
.
Rough
weather
outside
.
If
I
threw
myself
down
?
Reuben
J
’
s
son
must
have
swallowed
a
good
bellyful
of
that
sewage
.
One
and
eightpence
too
much
.
Hhhhm
.
It
’
s
the
droll
way
he
comes
out
with
the
things
.
Knows
how
to
tell
a
story
too
.
