The Equinox (Volume I, Number X)

DEAD WEIGHT chamber. The dying saint, his head safe in the arms of Crowley, safe on his gentle breast, whose tears mingled with his own, strove hard against the approach of the Grim Reaper. Dr. Wynn Westcott was in a corner sharpening (in the worst of taste) his knives for the inevitable post-mortem on the dying saint. Mr. Wilmshurst was reading through the will in which the dying saint had left everything to Lady S——, and could find no flaw, though he had drawn it up himself. Mr. Battiscombe Gunn was rapidly revising the funeral arrange- ments of the dying saint, which he proposed to found on some unedited documents of the Second Dynasty, which showed conclusively that the sacred lotus was in reality a corset, and the Weapon of Men Thu a button-hook. Neuburg was improvising (for soothing of the last moments of the dying saint) a crooning lay to the tune (and the words, mutato mutando) of “Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to thy bosom fly,” the bass accompaniment being an obbligato by Wilfred Merton. Mr. E. S. P. Haynes (to the horror of Ada Lake- man and Col. Gormley) was reading Morrison’s Red Triangle to conceal his emotion. Mr. Austin Harrison, Veli Bey, Madame Strindberg, the Editor of the Zyuinox, and some others, were avoidably absent from the death-bed of the dying saint. Transfusion of blood having been suggested, Crowley readily lent himself to the operation, Neuburg thoughtfully changing to “There is a fountain.” But the physicians had made a fatal error. Blood was 221