The Greenbottles 



fully left the Mole lying in the dust of the 

 road. I had to go, after a glance at the 

 corpse and Its harvesters. It was not the 

 place for philosophizing over a stench. What 

 would people say who passed and saw me ! 



And what will the reader himself say, if 

 I invite him to that sight? Surely, to busy 

 one's self with those squalid sextons means 

 soiling one's eyes and mind? Not so, if you 

 please ! Within the domain of our restless 

 curiosity, two questions stand out above all 

 others : the question of the beginning and the 

 question of the end. How does matter unite 

 in order to assume life? How does it sepa- 

 rate when returning to inertia? The pond, 

 with its Planorbis-eggs turning round and 

 round, would have given us a few data for the 

 first problem; the Mole, going bad under 

 conditions not too-repulsive, will tell us some- 

 thing about the second: he will show us the 

 working of the crucible wherein all things are 

 melted to begin anew. A truce to nice deli- 

 cacy ! Odi profamim vulgus et arceo; hence, 

 ye profane: you would not understand the 

 mighty lesson of the rag-tank. 



I am now in a position to realize my second 

 wish. I have space, air and quiet in the soli- 

 tude of the harmas. None will come here to 



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