While making our exit from this glaring pit, I heard one moaning and crying dolefully: “I knew no better; no pains were ever taken to teach me to read my duties, nor could I spare the time to read and pray whereof I had need in order to earn bread for myself and my poor family.” “Indeed,” quoth a crookback devil who stood close at hand, “hadst thou no leisure to tell merry tales, no idle roasting before thy fire through the long winter evenings when I was up the chimney, so that no time might have been given to learning to read or pray? What of thy Sabbaths? Who was it that was wont to accompany me to the alehouse rather than the parson to the church? How many a Sunday afternoon was spent in vain, noisy talk of worldly things, or in sleeping, instead of in learning to meditate and pray? Didst thou act according to thy knowledge? Silence, sirrah, with thy lying chatter!” “Thou raving bloodhound!” exclaimed the condemned, “’tis not long since thou wert whispering other words in mine ear; hadst thou said this another day, it is not likely I would have come hither.” “Ah!” said the devil, “it matters not that we tell you the hateful truth here; for there is no fear of your returning hence now to carry tales.” Lower down I could see a deep, valley whence arose the bluish glare of what seemed to be a countless number of enormous, burning mounds; and after drawing nigh, I knew by their howling that they were men piled mountains high with terrible flames crackling through them. “That hollow,” said the Angel, “is the abode of those who after committing some heinous deeds, exclaim: ‘Well, I am not the first—I have plenty of companions,’ and thus thou see’st they have plenty, to verify their words and add to their affliction.” Opposite this was a large cellar where I saw men tortured just as withes are twisted or wet sheets wrung. “Who, prithee, are these?” asked I. “They are the Mockers,” said he, “and the devils from pure derision essay to find whether they can be twisted as pliantly as their tales.” A little below, but scarcely visible, was another gloomy dungeon-cell, wherein was what had once been men, but now with the faces of wolf-hounds, up to their lips in a morass, madly howling blasphemy and lies as often as they got their tongues clear of the mire. Just then a legion of devils passed by, and some attempted to bite the heels of ten or twelve of the devils that had brought them there: “Woe and ruin take you, ye hell-hounds!” exclaimed one of the bitten devils, at the same time stamping upon the quagmire until they sank in the reeking depths. “Who more deserving of hell than ye, who gossipped and imagined all manner of tales, who retailed lies from house to house so that ye might laugh, after setting the entire neighbourhood at war? What more would one of us have done?” “This,” said the Angel, “is the abode of the slanderers, defamers and backbiters, and of all