What's that bloody freemason doing, says the citizen, prowling up and down outside?
What's that? says Joe.
Here you are, says Alf, chucking out the rhino. Talking about hanging, I'll show you something you never saw. Hangmen's letters. Look at here.
So he took a bundle of wisps of letters and envelopes out of his pocket.
Are you codding? says I.
Honest injun, says Alf. Read them.
So Joe took up the letters.
Who are you laughing at? says Bob Doran.
So I saw there was going to be a bit of a dust Bob's a queer chap when the porter's up in him so says I just to make talk:
How's Willy Murray those times, Alf?
I don't know, says Alf I saw him just now in Capel street with Paddy Dignam. Only I was running after that ...
You what? says Joe, throwing down the letters. With who?
With Dignam, says Alf.
Is it Paddy? says Joe.
Yes, says Alf. Why?
Don't you know he's dead? says Joe.
Paddy Dignam dead! says Alf.
Ay, says Joe.
Sure I'm after seeing him not five minutes ago, says Alf, as plain as a pikestaff.
Who's dead? says Bob Doran.
You saw his ghost then, says Joe, God between us and harm.
What? says Alf. Good Christ, only five ... What? ... And Willy Murray with him, the two of them there near whatdoyoucallhim's ... What? Dignam dead?
What about Dignam? says Bob Doran. Who's talking about... ?
Dead! says Alf. He's no more dead than you are.
Maybe so, says Joe. They took the liberty of burying him this morning anyhow.
Paddy? says Alf.
Ay, says Joe. He paid the debt of nature, God be merciful to him.
Good Christ! says Alf.
Begob he was what you might call flabbergasted.
In the darkness spirit hands were felt to flutter and when prayer by tantras had been directed to the proper quarter a faint but increasing luminosity of ruby light became gradually visible, the apparition of the etheric double being particularly lifelike owing to the discharge of jivic rays from the crown of the head and face. Communication was effected through the pituitary body and also by means of the orangefiery and scarlet rays emanating from the sacral region and solar plexus. Questioned by his earthname as to his whereabouts in the heavenworld he stated that he was now on the path of pr l ya or return but was still submitted to trial at the hands of certain bloodthirsty entities on the lower astral levels. In reply to a question as to his first sensations in the great divide beyond he stated that previously he had seen as in a glass darkly but that those who had passed over had summit possibilities of atmic development opened up to them. Interrogated as to whether life there resembled our experience in the flesh he stated that he had heard from more favoured beings now in the spirit that their abodes were equipped with every modern home comfort such as talafana, alavatar, hatakalda, wataklasat and that the highest adepts were steeped in waves of volupcy of the very purest nature. Having requested a quart of buttermilk this was brought and evidently afforded relief. Asked if he had any message for the living he exhorted all who were still at the wrong side of Maya to acknowledge the true path for it was reported in devanic circles that Mars and Jupiter were out for mischief on the eastern angle where the ram has power. It was then queried whether there were any special desires on the part of the defunct and the reply was: WE GREET YOU, FRIENDS OF EARTH, WHO ARE STILL IN THE BODY. MIND C. K. DOESN'T PILE IT ON. It was ascertained that the reference was to Mr Cornelius Kelleher, manager of Messrs H. J. O'Neill's popular funeral establishment, a personal friend of the defunct, who had been responsible for the carrying out of the interment arrangements. Before departing he requested that it should be told to his dear son Patsy that the other boot which he had been looking for was at present under the commode in the return room and that the pair should be sent to Cullen's to be soled only as the heels were still good. He stated that this had greatly perturbed his peace of mind in the other region and earnestly requested that his desire should be made known.
Assurances were given that the matter would be attended to and it was intimated that this had given satisfaction.
He is gone from mortal haunts: O'Dignam, sun of our morning. Fleet was his foot on the bracken: Patrick of the beamy brow. Wail, Banba, with your wind: and wail, O ocean, with your whirlwind.
There he is again, says the citizen, staring out.
Who? says I.
Bloom, says he. He's on point duty up and down there for the last ten minutes.
And, begob, I saw his physog do a peep in and then slidder off again.
Little Alf was knocked bawways. Faith, he was.
Good Christ! says he. I could have sworn it was him.
And says Bob Doran, with the hat on the back of his poll, lowest blackguard in Dublin when he's under the influence:
Who said Christ is good?
I beg your parsnips, says Alf.