Sunday, 16 June 2013

made him admit that the Lee was a much finer river than the Liffey. One of them in order to put his Latin to the proof had made him translate short passages from Dilectus and asked him whether it was correct to say: Tempora mutantur nos et mutamur in illis or Tempora mutantur et nos mutamur in illis. Another, a brisk old man, whom Mr Dedalus called Johnny Cashman, had covered him with confusion by asking him to say which were prettier, the Dublin girls or the Cork girls.

----He's not that way built, said Mr Dedalus. Leave him alone. He's a levelheaded thinking boy who doesn't bother his head about that kind of nonsense.

----Then he's not his father's son, said the little old man.

----I don't know, I'm sure, said Mr Dedalus, smiling complacently.

----Your father, said the little old man to Stephen, was the boldest flirt in the city of Cork in his day. Do you know that?

Stephen looked down and studied the tiled floor of the bar into which they had drifted.

---Now don't be putting ideas into his head, said Mr Dedalus. Leave him to his Maker.

----Yerra, sure I wouldn't put any ideas into his head. I'm old enough to be his grandfather. And I am a grandfather, said the little old man to Stephen. Do you know that?

----Are you? asked Stephen.

----Bedad I am, said the little old man. I have two bouncing grandchildren out at Sunday's Well. Now then! What age do you think I am? And I remember seeing you grandfather in his red coat riding out to hounds. That was before you were born.

----Ay, or though of, said Mr Dedalus.

----Bedad I did, repeated the little old man. And, more

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