bread was wrapped in, they go nearer to the railings.

―Something for you, the professor explained to Myles Crawford. Two old Dublin women on the top of Nelson’s pillar.

Some Column!⁠—That’s What Waddler One Said

―That’s new, Myles Crawford said. That’s copy. Out for the waxies’ Dargle. Two old trickies, what?

―But they are afraid the pillar will fall, Stephen went on. They see the roofs and argue about where the different churches are: Rathmines’ blue dome, Adam and Eve’s, saint Laurence O’Toole’s. But it makes them giddy to look so they pull up their skirts⁠ ⁠…

Those Slightly Rambunctious Females

―Easy all, Myles Crawford said, no poetic licence. We’re in the archdiocese here.

―And settle down on their striped petticoats, peering up at the statue of the onehandled adulterer.

―Onehandled adulterer! the professor cried.

I like that. I see the idea. I see what you mean.

Dames Donate Dublin’s Cits Speedpills Velocitous Aeroliths, Belief

―It gives them a crick in their necks, Stephen said, and they are too tired to look up or down or to speak. They put the bag of plums between them and eat the plums out of it, one after another, wiping off with their