"Her son was the substance. Something new to hope for not like the past she wanted back, waiting. It never comes. One must go first: alone, under the ground: and lie no more in her warm bed.
- How are you, Simon? Ned Lambert said softly, clasping hands. Haven't seen you for a month of Sundays.
- Never better. How are all in Cork's own town?" (U6.552)

Queen Victoria (1819 - 1901) with 3 future kings: her son Edward VII (b. 1841), her grandson George V (b. 1865), and her greatgrandson Edward VIII (b. 1894).
"- I was down there for the Cork park races on Easter Monday, Ned Lambert said. Same old six and eightpence. Stopped with Dick Tivy.
- And how is Dick, the solid man?
- Nothing between himself and heaven, Ned Lambert answered.
- By the holy Paul! Mr Dedalus said in subdued wonder. Dick Tivy bald?" (U6.559)
"They halted about the door of the mortuary chapel. Mr Bloom stood behind the boy with the wreath looking down at his sleekcombed hair and at the slender furrowed neck inside his brandnew collar. Poor boy! Was he there when the father? Both unconscious. Lighten up at the last moment and recognise for the last time. All he might have done. I owe three shillings to O'Grady. Would he understand?" (U6.574)
"The mutes bore the coffin into the chapel. Which end is his head?
After a moment he followed the others in, blinking in the screened light." (U6.579)
"balancing with the other a little book against his toad's belly. Who'll read the book? I, said the rook.
They halted by the bier and the priest began to read out of his book with a fluent croak." (U6.591)
"Father Coffey. I knew his name was like a coffin. Dominenamine. Bully about the muzzle he looks. Bosses the show. Muscular christian. Woe betide anyone that looks crooked at him: priest." (U6.595)

(Image courtesy of the ZJJF)
"Thou art Peter." (U5.597)

"Burst sideways like a sheep in clover Dedalus says he will. With a belly on him like a poisoned pup. Most amusing expressions that man finds. Hhhn: burst sideways.
- Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine." (U6.597)
"What swells him up that way? Molly gets swelled after cabbage. Air of the place maybe. Looks full up of bad gas. Must be an infernal lot of bad gas round the place. Butchers for instance: they get like raw beefsteaks. Who was telling me? Mervyn Browne." (U6.606)
"- And Madam Bloom, Mr O'Madden Burke added. The vocal muse. Dublin's prime favourite." (U7.609)
"Down in the vaults of saint Werburgh's lovely old organ hundred and fifty they have to bore a hole in the coffins sometimes to let out the bad gas and burn it. Out it rushes: blue. One whiff of that and you're a doner." (U6.609)

The legend of this PC reads: 'St Werburgh's Church, Dublin. In a vault under the chancel lies the body of Lord Edward Fitzgerald.'
"Every mortal day a fresh batch: middleaged men, old women, children, women dead in childbirth, men with beards, baldheaded business men, consumptive girls with little sparrows' breasts. All the year round he prayed the same thing over them all and shook water on top of them: sleep. On Dignam now." (U6.623)
"- In paradisum.
Said he was going to paradise or is in paradise. Says that over everybody. Tiresome kind of a job. But he has to say something.
The priest closed his book and went off, followed by the server. Corny Kelleher opened the sidedoors and the gravediggers came in, hoisted the coffin again, carried it out and shoved it on their cart. Corny Kelleher gave one wreath to the boy and the other to the brother-in-law." (U6.628)
"All followed them out of the sidedoors into the mild grey air. Mr Bloom came last, folding his paper again into his pocket. He gazed gravely at the ground till the coffincart wheeled off to the left. The metal wheels ground the gravel with a sharp grating cry and the pack of blunt boots followed the trundled barrow along a lane of sepulchres.
The ree the ra the ree the ra the roo. Lord, I mustn't lilt here." (U6.634)
"- The O'Connell circle, Mr Dedalus said about him." (U6.641)

In this PC, we see the O'Connell circle, the O'Connell monument, and the mortuary chapel from which the group just came out. The O'Connell monument, made in granite, was designed by historian Dr. Petrie after the Irish round towers. Visitors could visit the vault underneath where lay the coffin of The Liberator, covered with crimson velvet.
"Mr Power's soft eyes went up to the apex of the lofty cone.
- He's at rest, he said, in the middle of his people, old Dan O'." (U6.642)

The height of the O'Connell monument is given on this PC as 164.5 feet.
Re old Dan O's remains, the CE 1911 states: 'After 1844,' when Daniel O'Connell (1755 - 1847) was prosecuted and briefly imprisoned, 'his health had suffered, and henceforth there was a lack of energy and vigour in his movements. Then came the awful calamity of the famine. O'Connell's last appearance in Parliament was in 1847 when he pathetically asked that his people be saved from perishing. He was then seriously ill. The doctors ordered him to a warmer climate. He felt that he was dying and wished to die at Rome, but got no further than Genoa. In accordance with his wish his heart was brought to Rome and his body to Ireland. His funeral was of enormous dimensions, and since his death a splendid statue has been erected to his memory in Dublin and a round tower placed over his remains in Glasnevin.'