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Page 476 Page 478

And it is what they began to say to him tetrahedrally then, the
masters, what way was he.
     — He's giving, the wee bairn. Yun has lived. 
     — Yerra, why dat, my leader? 
     — Wisha, is he boosed or what, alannah? 
     — Or his wind's from the wrong cut, says Ned of the Hill. 
     — Lesten! 
     — Why so and speak up, do you hear me, you sir? 
     — Or he's rehearsing somewan's funeral. 
     — Whisht outathat! Hubba's up! 
     And as they were spreading abroad on their octopuds their 
drifter nets, the chromous gleamy seiners' nets and,no lie, there was
word of assonance being softspoken among those quartermasters.
     — Get busy, kid! 
     — Chirpy, come now! 
     — The present hospices is a good time. 
     — I'll take on that chap. 
     For it was in the back of their mind's ear, temptive lissomer, 
how they would be spreading in quadriliberal their azurespotted
fine attractable nets, their nansen nets, from Matt Senior to the
thurrible mystagogue after him and from thence to the neighbour
and that way to the puisny donkeyman and his crucifer's cauda.
And in their minds years backslibris, so it was, slipping beauty,
how they would be meshing that way, when he rose to it, with
the planckton at play about him, the quivers of scaly silver and
their clutches of chromes of the highly lucid spanishing gold
whilst, as hour gave way to mazing hour, with Yawn himself
keeping time with his thripthongue, to ope his blurbeous lips he
would, a let out classy, the way myrrh of the moor and molten
moonmist would be melding mellifond indo his mouth.
     — Y? 
     — Before You! 
     — Ecko! How sweet thee answer makes! Afterwheres? In the 
land of lions' odor?
     — Friends! First if yu don't mind. Name yur historical grouns. 
     — This same prehistoric barrow 'tis, the orangery.