At long intervals some master-minds appeared, looking upon each advance in practical science as a retro-gradation in the true utility.
Gorged nearly to the uttermost when he entered the restaurant, the smell of food had almost caused him to lose his honor as a gentleman, but he rallied like a true knight.
The result, a noirish tale of sex and betrayal set in a midwestern garage-diner, hurtles towards its denouement with unimprovably entertaining velocity.
These superstitions and traditions were all odd and strange beliefs, which mingled the materialistic and the spiritual most incongruously; but they were not so degrading, and they were not so far from truth as the “enlightened” ideas respecting our origin, circulated in costly volumes during recent years, by authors whose Adam and Eve were frogs, formed from slime by the action of the sun, with a dash of electricity, and in which, from gratitude for their descent, their progeny for centuries, millenniums, or millionenniums wallowed. At last a frog or frogess—or both may have been required—became a little better than other animals of the same origin, and they pushed out of the slime, and became rats, or squirrels, or something else, while others degenerated at the same time into eels, and progressed upwards to serpents after their first decadence.
