the Equinox - The Hermetic Library
the Equinox - The Hermetic Library the Equinox - The Hermetic Library
252 THE EQUINOX peal of unextinguishable laughter, but begged to know what was its cause, that he might laugh too. I could only cry out that my right leg was a tin case filled with stair-rods, and as I limped along, keeping that member perfectly rigid, both from fear of cracking the metal and the difficulty of bending it, I heard the rattle of the brazen contents shaken from side to side with feeling of the most supreme absurdity possible to the human soul. Presently the leg was restored to its former state, but in the interim its mate had grown to a size which would have made it a very respectable totter for Brian Boru or one of the Titans. Elevated some few hundred feet into the firmament, I was compelled to hop upon my giant pedestal in a way very ungraceful in a world where two legs were the fashion, and eminently disagreeable to the slighted member, which sought in vain to reach the earth with struggles amusing from their very insignificance. This ludicrous affliction being gradually removed, I went on my way quietly until we again began to be surrounded by the houses of the town. And now that unutterable thirst which characterises hasheesh came upon me. I could have lain me down and lapped dew from the grass. I must drink, wheresoever, howsoever. We soon reached home—soon, because it was not five squares off from where we sat down, yet ages, from the thirst which consumed me and the expansion of time in which I lived. I came into the house as one would approach a fountain in the desert, with a wild bound of exultation, and gazed with miserly eyes at the draught which my friend poured out for me until the glass was brimming. I clutched it—I
THE HASHEESH EATER put it to my lips. Ha! a surprise! It was not water, but the most delicious metheglin in which ever bard of the Cymri drank the health of Howell Dda. It danced and sparkled like some liquid metempsychosis of amber; it gleamed with the spiritual fire of a thousand chrysolites. to sight, to taste it was metheglin, such as never mantled in the cups of the Valhalla. Hasheesh I called the “drug of travel,” and I had only to direct my thoughts strongly toward a particular part of the world previously to swallowing my bolus to make my whole fantasia in the strongest possible degree topographical. There are two facts which I have verified as universal by repeated experiment, which fall into their place here as aptly ass then can in the course of my narrative. First: At two different times, when body and mind are apparently in precisely analogous states, when all circumstances, exterior and interior, do not differ tangibly in the smallest respect, the same dose of the same preparation of hasheesh will frequently produce diametrically opposite effects. Still further, I have taken at one time a pill of thirty grains, which hardly gave a perceptible phenomenon, and at another, when my dose had been but half that quantity, I have suffered the agonies of a martyr, or rejoiced in a perfect phrensy. So exceedingly variable are its results, that, long before I abandoned the indulgence, I took each succcessive bolus with the consciousness that I was daring an uncertainty as tremendous as the equipoise between hell and heaven. Yet the fascination employed Hope as its advocate, and won the suit. Secondly: If, during the ecstasy 253
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THE HASHEESH EATER<br />
put it to my lips. Ha! a surprise! It was not water, but <strong>the</strong><br />
most delicious me<strong>the</strong>glin in which ever bard of <strong>the</strong> Cymri<br />
drank <strong>the</strong> health of Howell Dda. It danced and sparkled like<br />
some liquid metempsychosis of amber; it gleamed with <strong>the</strong><br />
spiritual fire of a thousand chrysolites. to sight, to taste it<br />
was me<strong>the</strong>glin, such as never mantled in <strong>the</strong> cups of <strong>the</strong><br />
Valhalla.<br />
Hasheesh I called <strong>the</strong> “drug of travel,” and I had only to<br />
direct my thoughts strongly toward a particular part of <strong>the</strong><br />
world previously to swallowing my bolus to make my whole<br />
fantasia in <strong>the</strong> strongest possible degree topographical.<br />
<strong>The</strong>re are two facts which I have verified as universal by<br />
repeated experiment, which fall into <strong>the</strong>ir place here as aptly<br />
ass <strong>the</strong>n can in <strong>the</strong> course of my narrative. First: At two<br />
different times, when body and mind are apparently in precisely<br />
analogous states, when all circumstances, exterior and interior,<br />
do not differ tangibly in <strong>the</strong> smallest respect, <strong>the</strong> same dose of<br />
<strong>the</strong> same preparation of hasheesh will frequently produce<br />
diametrically opposite effects. Still fur<strong>the</strong>r, I have taken at<br />
one time a pill of thirty grains, which hardly gave a perceptible<br />
phenomenon, and at ano<strong>the</strong>r, when my dose had been but<br />
half that quantity, I have suffered <strong>the</strong> agonies of a martyr, or<br />
rejoiced in a perfect phrensy. So exceedingly variable are its<br />
results, that, long before I abandoned <strong>the</strong> indulgence, I took<br />
each succcessive bolus with <strong>the</strong> consciousness that I was<br />
daring an uncertainty as tremendous as <strong>the</strong> equipoise between<br />
hell and heaven. Yet <strong>the</strong> fascination employed Hope as its<br />
advocate, and won <strong>the</strong> suit. Secondly: If, during <strong>the</strong> ecstasy<br />
253