Is Dust immortal then, I ask'd him, so that we may see it blowing through the Centuries? But as Walter gave no Answer I jested with him further to break his Melancholy humor: What is Dust, Master Pine? And he reflected a little: It is particles of Matter, no doubt. Then we are all Dust indeed, are we not? And in a feigned Voice he murdered, For Dust thou art and shalt to Dust return. Then he made a Sour face, but only to laugh the more.

Hawksmoor