father conmee stopped three little schoolboys at the corner of mountjoy square. yes: they were from belvedere. the little house: aha. and were they good boys at school? o. that was very good now. and what was his name? jack sohan. and his name? ger. gallaher. and the other little man? his name was brunny lynam. o, that was a very nice name to have.
father conmee gave a letter from his breast to master brunny lynam and pointed to the red pillarbox at the corner of fitzgibbon street.
-- but mind you don't post yourself into the box, little man, he said.
the boys sixeyed father conmee and laughed.
-- o, sir.
-- well, let me see if you can post a letter, father conmee said.
master brunny lynam ran across the road and put father conmee's letter to father provincial into the mouth of the bright red letterbox, father conmee smiled and nodded and smiled and walked along mountjoy square east.
mr denis j. maginni, professor of dancing, &c., in silk hat, slate frockcoat with silk facings, white kerchief tie, tight lavender trousers, canary gloves and pointed patent boots, walking with grave deportment most respectfully took the curbstone as he passed lady maxwell at the corner of dignam's court.
was that not mrs m'guinness?
mrs m'guinness, stately, silverhaired, bowed to father conmee from the farther footpath along which she smiled. and father conmee smiled and saluted. how did she do?
a fine carriage she had. like mary, queen of scots, something. and to think that she was a pawnbroker. well, now! such a... what should he say?... such a queenly mien.
father conmee walked down great charles street and glanced at the shutup free church on his left. the reverend t. r. green b. a. will (d. v.) speak. the incumbent they called him. he felt it incumbent on him to say a few words. but one should be charitable. invincible ignorance. they acted according to their lights.