large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_05_jerome_64kb_21
large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_05_jerome_64kb
English
6923
Then a tall chimney ranges itself alongside. (First faith, then works.) Then a confused jumble of roofs, out of which, at last, stand forth individual houses, factories, streets, and we draw up in a sleeping town. THEN A TALL CHIMNEY RANGES ITSELF ALONGSIDE FIRST FAITH THEN WORKS THEN A CONFUSED JUMBLE OF ROOFS OUT OF WHICH AT LAST STAND FORTH INDIVIDUAL HOUSES FACTORIES STREETS AND WE DRAW UP IN A SLEEPING TOWN
ast him off; he looks so trustful. But he is heavy. I push him on to the man the other side. He is just as happy there. We roll about; and when the train jerks, we butt each other with our heads. Things fall from the rack upon us. We look up surprised, and go to sleep again. My bag tumbles down upon the head of the unjust man in the corner. (Is it retribution?) He starts up, begs my pardon, and sinks back into oblivion. I am too sleepy to pick up the bag. It lies there on the floor. The unjust man uses it for a footstool. We look out, through half-closed eyes, upon the parched, level, treeless land; upon the little patchwork farms of corn and beetroot, oats and fruit, growing undivided, side by side, each looking like a little garden dropped down into the plain; upon the little dull stone houses. A steeple appears far away upon the horizon. (The first thing that we ask of men is their faith: "What do you believe?" The first thing that they show us is their church: "_This_ we believe.") IS HEAD UPON MY SHOULDER IT SEEMS A SHAME TO CAST HIM OFF HE LOOKS SO TRUSTFUL BUT HE IS HEAVY I PUSH HIM ON TO THE MAN THE OTHER SIDE HE IS JUST AS HAPPY THERE WE ROLL ABOUT AND WHEN THE TRAIN JERKS WE BUT EACH OTHER WITH OUR HEADS THINGS FALL FROM THE RACK UPON US WE LOOK UP SURPRISED AND GO TO SLEEP AGAIN MY BAG TUMBLES DOWN UPON THE HEAD OF THE UNJUST MAN IN THE CORNER IS IT RETRIBUTION HE STARTS UP BEGS MY PARDON AND SINKS BACK INTO OBLIVION I AM TOO SLEEPY TO PICK UP THE BAG IT LIES THERE ON THE FLOOR THE UNJUST MAN USES IT FOR A FOOTSTOOL WE LOOK OUT THROUGH HALF CLOSED EYES UPON THE PARCHED LEVEL TREELESS LAND UPON THE LITTLE PATCHWORK FARMS OF CORN AND BEETROOT OATS AND FRUIT GROWING UNDIVIDED SIDE BY SIDE EACH LOOKING LIKE A LITTLE GARDEN DROPPED DOWN INTO THE PLAIN UPON THE LITTLE DULL STONE HOUSES A STEEPLE APPEARS FAR AWAY UPON THE HORIZON THE FIRST THING THAT WE ASK OF MEN IS THEIR FAITH WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE THE FIRST THING THAT THEY SHOW US IS THEIR CHURCH THIS WE BELIEVE
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