THE DAUGHTER OF THE
HORSELEECH
A FABLE
Tria sunt insaturabilia, et quartum, quod nunquam dicit : Sufficit.
Infernus, et os vulvae. . . . —Prov. xxx. 16.
Tue Great White Spirit stretched Himself and yawned. He
had done an honest six days’ work if ever a man did; yet in
such physical training was He from His lengthy “cure” in
that fashionable Spa Pralaya that he was not in the least
fatigued. It was the Loi du Répos Hebdomadaire that had
made Him throw down His tools.
“ Anyway, the job’s finished!” He said, looking round
Him complacently. Even His critical eye assured Him that
it was very good.
And indeed it must be admitted that He had every right to
crow. With no better basis than the Metaphysical Absolute
of the Qabalists he had unthinkably but efficiently formulated
Infinite Space, filled the said Space with Infinite Light, con-
centrated the Light into a Smooth-pointed Whitehead (not the
torpedo) and emanated Himself as four hundred successive
intelligences all the way from Risha Qadisha in Atziluth down
to where intelligence ends, and England begins.
IV ° 201