ttersheet not to mention _Paddy Kelly's Budget, Pue's Occurrences_
and our watchful friend _The Skibbereen Eagle_. Why bring in a master
of forensic eloquence like Whiteside? Sufficient for the day is the
newspaper thereof. LINKS WITH BYGONE DAYS OF YORE

--Grattan and Flood wrote for this very paper, the editor cried in his
face. Irish volunteers. Where are you now? Established 1763. Dr Lucas.
Who have you now like John Philpot Curran? Psha!

--Well, J. J. O'Molloy said, Bushe K.C., for example.

--Bushe? the editor said. Well, yes: Bushe, yes. He has a strain of it
in his blood. Kendal Bushe or I mean Seymour Bushe.

--He would have been on the bench long ago, the professor said, only for
... But no matter.

J. J. O'Molloy turned to Stephen and said quietly and slowly:

--One of the most polished periods I think I ever listened to in my life
fell from the lips of Seymour Bushe. It was in that case of fratricide,
the Childs murder case. Bushe defended him. _And in the porches of mine
ear did pour._

By the way how did he find that out? He died in his sleep. Or the other
story, beast with two backs?

--What was that? the professor asked.

ITALIA, MAGISTRA ARTIUM

--He spoke on the law of evidence, J. J. O'Molloy said, of Roman justice
as contrasted with the earlier Mosaic code, the _lex talionis_. And he
cited the Moses of Michelangelo in the vatican.

--Ha.

--A few wellchosen words, Lenehan prefaced. Silence!

Pause. J. J. O'Molloy took out his cigarettecase.

False lull. Something quite ordinary.

Messenger took out his matchbox thoughtfully and lit his cigar.

I have often thought since on looking back over that strange time that
it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match,
that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives. A POLISHED
PERIOD

J. J. O'Molloy resumed, moulding his words:

--He said of it: _that stony effigy in frozen music, horned and
terrible, of the human form divine, that eternal symbol of wisdom and
of prophecy which, if aught that the imagination or the hand of sculptor
has wrought in marble of soultransfigured and of soultransfiguring
deserves to live, deserves to live._

His slim hand with a wave graced echo and fall.

--Fine! Myles Crawford said at once.

--The divine afflatus, Mr O'Madden Burke said.

--You like it? J. J. O'Molloy asked Stephen.

Stephen, his blood wooed by grace of language and gesture, blushed. He
took a