The Annotated "Ulysses"/Page 092

Mr Power’s choked laugh burst quietly in the carriage. Nelson’s pillar. Eight plums a penny! Eight for a penny! We had better look a little serious, Martin Cunningham said. Mr Dedalus sighed. Ah then indeed, he said, poor little Paddy wouldn’t grudge us a laugh. Many a good one he told himself. The Lord forgive me! Mr Power said, wiping his wet eyes with his fingers. Poor Paddy! I little thought a week ago when I saw him last and he was in his usual health that I’d be driving after him like this. He’s gone from us. As decent a little man as ever wore a hat, Mr Dedalus said. He went very suddenly. Breakdown, Martin Cunningham said. Heart. He tapped his chest sadly. Blazing face : redhot. Too much John Barleycorn. Cure for a red nose. Drink like the devil till it turns adelite. A lot of money he spent colouring it. Mr Power gazed at the passing houses with rueful apprehension. He had a sudden death, poor fellow, he said. The best death, Mr Bloom said. Their wide open eyes looked at him. No suffering, he said. A moment and all is over. Like dying in sleep. No-one spoke. Dead side of the street this. Dull business by day, land agents, temperance hotel, Falconer’s railway guide, civil service college, Gill’s, catholic club, the industrious blind. Why? Some reason. Sun or wind. At night too. Chummies and slaveys. Under the patronage of the late Father Mathew. Foundation stone for Parnell. Breakdown. Heart. White horses with white frontlet plumes came round the Rotunda corner, galloping. A tiny coffin flashed by. In a hurry to bury. A mourning coach. Unmarried. Black for the married. Piebald for bachelors. Dun for a nun. Sad, Martin Cunningham said. A child. A dwarf’s face mauve and wrinkled like little Rudy’s was. Dwarf’s body, weak as putty, in a whitelined deal box. Burial friendly society pays. Penny a week for a sod of turf. Our. Little. Beggar. Baby. Meant nothing. Mistake of nature. If it’s healthy it’s from the mother. If not the man. Better luck next time.