re will be no end ...
and to the horror of your torments there will never be an end ...
never!

THE DEVIL AND THE OLD MAN[31]

BY JOHN MASEFIELD

[31] From _A Mainsail Haul_, by John Masefield [Copyright
1913 by The Macmillan Company. Reprinted by permission of the
Author and the Publishers.]

Up away north, in the old days, in Chester, there was a man who never
throve. Nothing he put his hand to ever prospered, and as his state
worsened, his friends fell away, and he grew desperate. So one night
when he was alone in his room, thinking of the rent due in two or
three days and the money he couldn't scrape together, he cried out, "I
wish I could sell my soul to the devil like that man the old books
tell about."

Now just as he spoke the clock struck twelve, and, while it chimed, a
sparkle began to burn about the room, and the air, all at once, began
to smell of brimstone, and a voice said:

"Will these terms suit you?"

He then saw that some one had just placed a parchment there. He picked
it up and read it through; and being in despair, and not knowing what
he was doing, he answered, "Yes," and looked round for a pen.

"Take and sign," said the voice again, "but first consider what it is
you do; do nothing rashly. Consider."

So he thought awhile; then "Yes," he said, "I'll sign," and with that
he groped for the pen.

"Blood from your left thumb and sign," said the voice.

So he pricked his left thumb and signed.

"Here is your earnest money," said the voice, "nine and twenty silver
pennies. This day twenty years hence I shall see you again."

Now early next morning our friend came to himself and felt like one of
the drowned. "What a dream I've had," he said. Then he woke up and saw
the nine and twenty silver pennies and smelt a faint smell of
brimstone.

So he sat in his chair there, and remembered that he had sold his soul
to the devil for twenty years of heart's-desire; and whatever fears he
may have had as to what might come at the end of those twenty years,
he found comfort in the thought that, after all, twenty years is a
good stretch of time, and that throughout them he could eat, drink,
merrymake, roll in gold, dress in silk, and be care-free, heart at
ease and jib-sheet to windward.

So for nineteen years and nine months he lived in great state, having
his heart's desire in all things; but, when his twenty years were
nearly run through, there was no wretcheder man in all