Улисс

           Byproductsoftheslaughterhousesfortanneries,soap,margarine.WonderifthatdodgeworksnowgettingdickymeatoffthetrainatClonsilla.

           Thecarriagemovedonthroughthedrove.

           —Ican’tmakeoutwhythecorporationdoesn’trunatramlinefromtheparkgatetothequays,MrBloomsaid.Allthoseanimalscouldbetakenintrucksdowntotheboats.

           —Insteadofblockingupthethoroughfare,MartinCunninghamsaid.Quiteright.Theyoughtto.

           —Yes,MrBloomsaid,andanotherthingIoftenthought,istohavemunicipalfuneraltramsliketheyhaveinMilan,youknow.Runthelineouttothecemeterygatesandhavespecialtrams,hearseandcarriageandall.Don’tyouseewhatImean?

           —O,thatbedamnedforastory,MrDedalussaid.Pullmancarandsaloondiningroom.

           —ApoorlookoutforCorny,MrPoweradded.

           —Why?MrBloomasked,turningtoMrDedalus.Wouldn’titbemoredecentthangallopingtwoabreast?

           —Well,there’ssomethinginthat,MrDedalusgranted.

           —And,MartinCunninghamsaid,wewouldn’thavesceneslikethatwhenthehearsecapsizedroundDunphy’sandupsetthecoffinontotheroad.

           —Thatwasterrible,MrPower’sshockedfacesaid,andthecorpsefellabouttheroad.Terrible!

           —FirstroundDunphy’s,MrDedalussaid,nodding.GordonBennettcup.

           —PraisesbetoGod!MartinCunninghamsaidpiously.

           Bom!Upset.Acoffinbumpedoutontotheroad.Burstopen.PaddyDignamshotoutandrollingoverstiffinthedustinabrownhabittoolargeforhim.Redface:greynow.Mouthfallenopen.Askingwhat’supnow.Quiterighttocloseit.Lookshorridopen.