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- Джеймс Джойс
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Mr
Kernan
approached
Island
street
.
Times
of
the
troubles
.
Must
ask
Ned
Lambert
to
lend
me
those
reminiscences
of
sir
Jonah
Barrington
.
When
you
look
back
on
it
all
now
in
a
kind
of
retrospective
arrangement
.
Gaming
at
Daly
’
s
.
No
cardsharping
then
.
One
of
those
fellows
got
his
hand
nailed
to
the
table
by
a
dagger
.
Somewhere
here
lord
Edward
Fitzgerald
escaped
from
major
Sirr
.
Stables
behind
Moira
house
.
Damn
good
gin
that
was
.
Fine
dashing
young
nobleman
.
Good
stock
,
of
course
.
That
ruffian
,
that
sham
squire
,
with
his
violet
gloves
gave
him
away
.
Course
they
were
on
the
wrong
side
.
They
rose
in
dark
and
evil
days
.
Fine
poem
that
is
:
Ingram
.
They
were
gentlemen
.
Ben
Dollard
does
sing
that
ballad
touchingly
.
Masterly
rendition
.
At
the
siege
of
Ross
did
my
father
fall
.
A
cavalcade
in
easy
trot
along
Pembroke
quay
passed
,
outriders
leaping
,
leaping
in
their
,
in
their
saddles
.
Frockcoats
.
Cream
sunshades
.
Mr
Kernan
hurried
forward
,
blowing
pursily
.
His
Excellency
!
Too
bad
!
Just
missed
that
by
a
hair
.
Damn
it
!
What
a
pity
!
*
*
*
Stephen
Dedalus
watched
through
the
webbed
window
the
lapidary
’
s
fingers
prove
a
timedulled
chain
.
Dust
webbed
the
window
and
the
showtrays
.
