"Kill! Kill!
Suppose that communal kitchen years to come perhaps. All trotting down with porringers and tommycans to be filled. Devour contents in the street. John Howard Parnell example the provost of Trinity every mother's son don't talk of your provosts and provost of Trinity women and children, cabmen, priests, parsons, fieldmarshals, archbishops. From Ailesbury road, Clyde road, artisans' dwellings, north Dublin union," (U8.703)
"lord mayor in his gingerbread coach," (U7.709)

The back of this PC reads: "In 1853 Queen Victoria and Prince Consort visited Dublin and this carriage was purchased from M Hutton who was then Lord Mayor of Dublin and a Coachbuilder. The Queen used the carriage on the few occasions she opened Parliament during her widowhood. It is still being used by H.M. Queen Elizabeth II on State Ceremonies."
"old queen in a bath chair. My plate's empty." (U9.710)

The bath chair was designed by James Heath of Bath around 1750, and was intended for ladies and invalids. It became very popular during the Victorian period, when it was primarily used at seaside resorts. It superseded the sedan chair as a form of transport in 18 and 19c. Britain. The common bath chair (shown on this PC) was pushed from behind, and steered by the occupant. Queen Victoria's version, built by Cheverton on the Isle of Wight in 1893, could be pulled along by a pony led by a footman.
"After you with our incorporated drinkingcup. Like sir Philip Crampton's fountain. Rub off the microbes with your handkerchief. Next chap rubs on a new batch with his." (U8.710)
"Father O'Flynn would make hares of them all." (U8.713)

Father O'Flynn is an Irish song, with lyrics by A.P. Graves and music by C. Villiers Stanford. It goes thus:

"Of priests we can offer a charmin variety,
Far renownd for learnin and piety;
Still, Id advance ye widout impropriety,
Father OFlynn as the flowr of them all.

Chorus: Here's a health to you, Father OFlynn,
Slainte and slainte and slainte agin;
Powrfulest preacher, and tenderest teacher,
And kindliest creature in ould Donegal.
Dont talk of your Provost and Fellows of Trinity,
Famous forever at Greek and Latinity,
Dad and the divils and all at Divinity
Father OFlynn d make hares of them all!"
"Have rows all the same. All for number one. Children fighting for the scrapings of the pot. Want a soup pot as big as the Phoenix Park." (U8.713)

From a tourist pamphlet dated 1900: "In circumference, the Phoenix is 7 miles, and the extent 1,760 acres - thus being, with the one exception of the American National Park at Yellowstone, Wyoming, U.S.A., the largest public park in the world."
"Harpooning flitches and hindquarters out of it. Hate people all round you. City Arms hotel table d'hôte she called it. Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose thoughts you're chewing. Then who'd wash up all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.
After all there's a lot in that vegetarian fine flavour of things from the earth garlic of course it stinks Italian organgrinders crisp of onions, mushrooms, truffles. Pain to animal too. Pluck and draw fowl." (U8.715)
"Wretched brutes there at the cattlemarket waiting for the poleaxe to split their skulls open. Moo. Poor trembling calves. Meh. Staggering bob. Bubble and squeak." (U8.723)
"Butchers' buckets wobbly lights. Give us that brisket off the hook. Plup. Rawhead and bloody bones. Flayed glasseyed sheep hung from their haunches, sheepsnouts bloodypapered snivelling nosejam on sawdust. Top and lashers going out. Don't maul them pieces, young one." (U8.725)
"Hot fresh blood they prescribe for decline. Blood always needed. Insidious. Lick it up smoking hot, thick sugary. Famished ghosts.
Ah, I'm hungry.
He entered Davy Byrne's. Moral pub. He doesn't chat. Stands a drink now and then. But in leapyear once in four. Cashed a cheque for me once." (U8.729)
"What will I take now? He drew his watch. Let me see now. Shandygaff?
- Hello, Bloom, Nosey Flynn said from his nook.
- Hello, Flynn.
- How's things?
- Tiptop... Let me see. I'll take a glass of burgundy and... let me see.
Sardines on the shelves. Almost taste them by looking." (U8.735)
"Sandwich? Ham and his descendants mustered and bred there. Potted meats. What is home without Plumtree's potted meat? Incomplete. What a stupid ad!" (U8.741)
"Under the obituary notices they stuck it. All up a plumtree." (U8.744)

The front page of The Freeman's Journal carries Births, Marriages & Deaths.
"Dignam's potted meat. Cannibals would with lemon and rice. White missionary too salty. Like pickled pork. Expect the chief consumes the parts of honor. Ought to be tough from exercise. His wives in a row to watch the effect. There was a right royal old nigger. Who ate or something the somethings of the reverend Mr MacTrigger. With it an abode of bliss. Lord knows what concoction. Cauls mouldy tripes windpipes faked and minced up." (U8.744)
"Puzzle find the meat." (U8.750)

Puzzles were popular at the turn of the century, and commonly found in magazines. A classical format was 'Find the [hidden picture]'. This one states: 'Puzzle, find the Rabbit'. Others formats were ciphers, hidden messages etc.

I just learned a new word: steganography.
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