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 I 



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 I Odi profanum viilgus 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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