When he gained the crest of the Magazine Hill he halted and looked along the river towards Dublin, the lights of which burned redly and hospitably in the cold night. He looked down the slope and, at the base, in the shadow of the wall of the Park, he saw some human figures lying. Those venal and furtive loves filled him with despair. He gnawed the rectitude of his life; he felt that he had been outcast from life’s feast. One human being had seemed to love him and he had denied her life and happiness: he had sentenced her to ignominy, a death of shame. He knew that the prostrate creatures down by the wall were watching him and wished him gone. No-one wanted him; he was outcast from life’s feast. He turned his eyes to the grey gleaming river, winding along towards Dublin. Beyond the river he saw a goods train winding out of Kingsbridge Station, like a worm with a fiery head winding through the darkness, obstinately and laboriously. It passed slowly out of sight but still he heard in his ears the laborious drone of the engine reiterating the syllables of her name.
James Joyce. A Painful Case, Dubliners (Page 98)
Joyce links the train stations of Sydney Parade where Mrs. Sinico is the subject of a tragic accident and Kingsbridge, now Hueston Station, which Mr. Duffy overlooks from the Magazine Fort in the Phoenix Park as he makes his way home to Chapelizod. Joyce uses the syllables in her name to evoke the sound of the departing goods train. Joyce took the name Sinico from Giuseppe Sinico, his singing teacher in Trieste.
I ran down and around the Magazine Fort, looking down to Hueston Station. It is now difficult to see the trains as the foreground view is obscured by buildings, but by reputation there are still furtive loves taking place in the Park as darkness falls.
Mrs. Sinico appears in Ulysses on a number of occasions relating to her internment in Glasnevin Cemetery, which Bloom attended.
He compressed between 2 fingers the flesh circumjacent to a cicatrice in the left infracostal region below the diaphragm resulting from a sting infected 2 weeks and 3 days previously (23x May 1904) by a bee. He scratched imprecisely with his right hand, though insensible of prurition, various points and surfaces of his partly exposed, wholly abluted skin. He inserted his left hand into the left lower pocket of his waistcoat and extracted and replaced a silver coin (I shilling), placed there (presumably) on the occasion (17 October 1903) of the interment of Mrs Emily Sinico, Sydney Parade.
James Joyce. Ulysses (Page 584)
Joyce, J. (1998) Ulysses. Edited by Hans Walter Gabler, Wolfhard Steppe, and Claus Melchior. Afterward by Michael Gordon edn. New York, United States: Vintage Books.
Joyce, J. (2006) Dubliners, Authoritative Text, Contexts, Criticism. Edited by Margot Norris, Hans Walter Gabler, and Walter Hettche. New York, United States: Norton, W. W. & Company.