Портрет художника в юности

           Helistenedwithoutsympathytohisfather’sevocationofCorkandofscenesofhisyouth,atalebrokenbysighsordraughtsfromhispocketflaskwhenevertheimageofsomedeadfriendappearedinitorwhenevertheevokerrememberedsuddenlythepurposeofhisactualvisit.Stephenheardbutcouldfeelnopity.TheimagesofthedeadwereallstrangerstohimsavethatofuncleCharles,animagewhichhadlatelybeenfadingoutofmemory.Heknew,however,thathisfather’spropertywasgoingtobesoldbyauction,andinthemannerofhisowndispossessionhefelttheworldgivethelierudelytohisphantasy.

           AtMaryboroughhefellasleep.WhenheawokethetrainhadpassedoutofMallowandhisfatherwasstretchedasleepontheotherseat.Thecoldlightofthedawnlayoverthecountry,overtheunpeopledfieldsandtheclosedcottages.Theterrorofsleepfascinatedhismindashewatchedthesilentcountryorheardfromtimetotimehisfather’sdeepbreathorsuddensleepymovement.Theneighbourhoodofunseensleepersfilledhimwithstrangedread,asthoughtheycouldharmhim,andheprayedthatthedaymightcomequickly.Hisprayer,addressedneithertoGodnorsaint,beganwithashiver,asthechillymorningbreezecreptthroughthechinkofthecarriagedoortohisfeet,andendedinatrailoffoolishwordswhichhemadetofittheinsistentrhythmofthetrain;andsilently,atintervalsoffourseconds,thetelegraph-polesheldthegallopingnotesofthemusicbetweenpunctualbars.