[Cvsfs-develop] TheMicr0CapJ0urnal

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<BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR><BR>----------------------------------------------------------<BR>which he eats,  himself, as his Reward. O, horror, the Lightning  has struckthe Fish-basket;  he  sets  him on  Fire; see the  Flame, how she licks  thedoomed Utensil with her  red and angry Tongue; now she attacks  the helpless   The thought reminded him of his evening chores, and he set off for the barn with a harsh jubilation that it was almost the last time he would need to milk. How far, he wondered, could he go on that money? He hurried through his work and into the house to his old desk. The faded text-ornament stood on the top shelf, but he did not see it, as he hastily tumbled out all the time-tables and sailing-lists. The habit of looking at them with the yearning bitterness of unreconciled deprivation was still so strong on him that even as he handled them eagerly, he hated them for the associations of years of misery they brought back to him.    To Buenos Ayres, then. He did not even attempt to pronounce this name, though its strange, inexplicable look on the page was a joy to him. From there by mule-back and afoot over the Andes to Chile. He knew something about that trip. A woman who had taught in the Methodist missionary school in Santiago de Chile had taken that journey, and he had heard her give a lecture on it. He was the sexton of the church and heard all the lectures free. At Santiago de Chile (he pronounced it with a strange distortion of the schoolteachers bad accent) he would stay for a while and just live and decide what to do next. His head swam with dreams and visions, and his heart thumped heavily against his old ribs. The clock striking ten brought him back to reality. He stood up with a gesture of exultation almost fierce. Thats just the time when the train crosses the state line! he said. has gone to a better Land; all that is left  of  it  for its  loved  Ones tolament over, is this  poor smoldering Ash-heap. Ah, woeful, woeful Ash-heap!Let us take him up tenderly, reverently, upon the lowly Shovel, and bear himto his long Rest,  with the  Prayer that  when  he rises again it will be  aRealm where he will have one good square responsible Sex, and have it all toimself, instead of having a mangy lot of assorted Sexes  scattered all overhim in Spots.thought that he can  at least depend on a third of this mess  as being manly   A trampling upstairs told him that the service was over. You run home now and tell her Ill be over this afternoon to fix things up.