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object I cut down a tree and trimmed a twenty-two foot log. Its circumference at the smaller end 
was too great for my arms to meet round it. My only instrument for moving this was a wooden pole. 
The tree had fallen about a hundred yards from the bank; and though it was downhill all the way to 
the lake, the ground was very uneven and the path so narrow that it was impossible to roll the log 
at all. Nevertheless, I moved it singlehanded into the lake, where I fixed it by driving piles. Passers-
by spread the story of the hermit with superhuman strength, and people came from all parts to gaze 
upon the miracle. I should mention that normally my physical strength is far below the average, 
especially for work of this kind. It is quite an effort for me to shift a sixty pound load for even a few 
feet. 
So much for the sufficiently remarkable truth. Of course imagination improved on the story. I 
received an indignant letter from New York from the lady who had lent me the cottage, reproaching 
me for having built a dam right across the lake, to the detriment of navigation! 
This spasm of energy continued without abatement for some three weeks, after which I gradually 
recovered the balance of my normal faculties. The effect of my operations was now to increase the 
energy of each of them, but in reasonable proportion. I was now able to begin my proposed magical 
research. 
In order to erect the temple of the New Aeon, it appeared necessary to make a thorough clearance 
of the rubbish of its ruined predecessors. I therefore planned and executed a Magical Operation to 
banish the "Dying God". I had written in "the Wizard Way": 
He had crucified a toad 
In the Basilisk abode 
and now I did so. The theory of the Operation was to identify the toad with the "Dying God" and slay 
it. At the same time I caused the elemental spirit of the slain reptile to serve me. 
The result was immediately apparent. A girl of the village, three miles away, asked me to employ 
her as my secretary. I had had no intention of doing any literary work; but as soon as I set eyes on 
her I recognized that she had been sent for a purpose, for she exactly resembled the aforesaid toad. 
I therefore engaged her to come out every morning an take dictation. I had with me a copy of 
Bernard Shaw's Androcles and the Lion and bethought myself that I would criticize the preface. The 
almost unparalleled knowledge of the text of the Bible which I had acquired in early childhood was 
shocked by Shaw's outrageously arbitrary selection of the texts that sustained his argument. His 
ignorance of Asiatic life and thought had led him into the most grotesque misapprehensions. I set 
out to criticize his essay, section by section; but the work grew under my hand, and in three 
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weeks or so, I had produced a formidable treatise of some forty-five thousand words. I had intended 
to confine myself to destructive criticism of my author; but as I went on, my analysis of the text of 
the gospels revealed the mystery of their composition. It became clear both those who believe in 
the historicity of "Jesus" and their opponents were at fault. I could not doubt that actual incidents 
and genuine sayings in the life of a real man formed part of the structure. The truth was that scraps 
of several such men, distinct from and incompatible with each other, had been pitch-forked 
together and labelled with a single name. It was exactly the case of the students who stuck 
together various parts of various insects and asked their professor, "What kind of a bug is this?" 
"Gentlemen," he replied, "this is a humbug." 
In writing this book, I was much assisted by Frazer's Golden Bough and, to a less extent, by Jung's 
Psychology of the Unconscious. But my main assets were my intimate knowledge of the text of the 
gospels, of the conditions of life and thought in the East, of the details of magical and mystical 
work, and of the literary conventions which old writers employed to convey their ideas.