Who has not felt a shuddering recoil upon discovering that the heart of a rare, sweet rose has become the banquet hall of a loathsome worm,—that into its perfumed chambers has come this hideously stupid creature, bent solely upon the satisfaction of a grossness that with consuming leisure enters the matchless halls of a palace of purity, and leaves them reeking with foulness and decay. The pitiful helplessness of the exquisite blossom thus invaded, and the blind indifference to everything save its maw which marks the gorging beast, impel one to visit swift vengeance upon the intruder and to turn away with mingled disgust and sorrow of heart.
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