For it is of
old rumor that the soul of the devil-bought hastes not from his
charnel clay, but fats and instructs _the very worm that gnaws_; till
out of corruption horrid life springs, and the dull scavengers of
earth wax crafty to vex it and swell monstrous to plague it. Great
holes secretly are digged where earth’s pores ought to suffice, and
things have learnt to walk that ought to crawl.”

[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the January 1925 issue of