About Joyce:James Augustine Aloysius Joyce (Irish Séamus Seoighe; 2 February1882 – 13 January 1941) was an Irish expatriate writer, widely consideredto be one of the most influential writers of the 20th century. He is bestknown for his landmark novels Ulysses (1922) and Finnegans Wake(1939), the short story collection Dubliners (1914) and the semi-autobio-graphical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (1916). Althoughhis adult life was largely spent outside the country, Joyce's fictional uni-verse is firmly rooted in Dublin and provide the settings and much of thesubject matter for all his fiction. In particular, his tempestuous early rela-tionship with the Irish Roman Catholic Church is reflected through asimilar inner conflict in his recurrent alter ego Stephen Dedalus. As theresult of his minute attentiveness to a personal locale and his self-im-posed exile and influence throughout Europe, Joyce became simultan-eously one of the most cosmopolitan and one of the most local of all thegreat English language writers. Source: WikipediaAlso available on Feedbooks for Joyce:•A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man(1916)•Dubliners(1914)Copyright:This work is available for countries where copyright isLife+70 and in the USA.Note:This book is brought to you by FeedbooksStrictly for personal use, do not use this file for commercial purposes.2
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came from the stairhead, bearing a bowlof lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressing-gown, ungirdled, was sustained gently behind him on the mild morningair. He held the bowl aloft and intoned:—Introibo ad altare Dei.Halted, he peered down the dark winding stairs and called outcoarsely:—Come up, Kinch! Come up, you fearful jesuit!Solemnly he came forward and mounted the round gunrest. He facedabout and blessed gravely thrice the tower, the surrounding land and theawaking mountains. Then, catching sight of Stephen Dedalus, he bent to-wards him and made rapid crosses in the air, gurgling in his throat andshaking his head. Stephen Dedalus, displeased and sleepy, leaned hisarms on the top of the staircase and looked coldly at the shaking gurg-ling face that blessed him, equine in its length, and at the light unton-sured hair, grained and hued like pale oak.Buck Mulligan peeped an instant under the mirror and then coveredthe bowl smartly.—Back to barracks! he said sternly.He added in a preacher's tone:—For this, O dearly beloved, is the genuine Christine: body and souland blood and ouns. Slow music, please. Shut your eyes, gents. One mo-ment. A little trouble about those white corpuscles. Silence, all.He peered sideways up and gave a long slow whistle of call, thenpaused awhile in rapt attention, his even white teeth glistening here andtherewithgoldpoints.Chrysostomos.Twostrongshrillwhistlesanswered through the calm.