A. Merritt's Fantasy Magazine, October 1950 — page 36: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE ELIXIR OF HATE 35 “Ts this | myself: What’ Am 1] dreaming, or dead and resurrected, or a ghost—or crazy—or what the blazes am I? Less than twenty-four hours ago I, a spent old man—why, I crept up a decent enough road, breathless, my heart ready to burst. And now—now—” For a moment he stood still, his feet braced against the outer edge of the path- way, peering down with bold yet startled eyes into the void. Then over his face he passed a hand. “Well, no matter,” he laughed sudden- ly. “As Descartes said, ‘I think, therefore ] exist.’ Let it go at that. Whosoever I really am, that doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, hang it!’ he added with sudden eagerness, “except that cold salt plunge.” And once more he started down the perilous trace that once had marked a path down the abyss. But now the way was growing rougher and more difficult. Fallen masses of stone, from far above had here blocked the way, there broken it entirely, so that he was forced to extraordinary efforts to continue downward. Once or twice he paused, with still some hundreds of feet gaping below him, uncertain whether after all « were not the part of reason to return. But his fixed determination still drove him on and on. At last, however, fie came against a veritable cul-de-sac on the way. Beyond, a break in the path, some feet in width, it seemed as though the narrow ledge abutted in an outcry, beyond which no passage showed itself. Puzzled, Dennison stood still. What should he do? Give up? Climb back that tollsome way, without having attained his RICAN DISTILLING COMPA © . SAN NEUTRA 60° 1 N object? Admit himself beaten in this, his first endeavor since the Alkahest had been his? And, not even knowing whether in case of failure he could get back at all, he measured the distance, leaped, and for a moment tottered desperately upon the crumbling edge, bevond. One sick, dizzy moment he felt that he was overbalanced, that he must fall. But, desperately clutching at the face of the great wall, his fingers found a hold. He steadied himself. Grunting with exertion, he drew himself to safety. Swabbing his forehead, he advanced along the narrow way toward the outcrop where it seemed to terminate. Then, with a cry of sheer astonishment, he stopped. HERE in the face of the cliff, masked by a tangle of wild aloes that had struck root into a cleft, he saw. a dark, narrow opening. Across it hung the remains of what must at one time have been a stout door. From staples let into the rock, an iron frame sagged drunkenly. Some of the bars had rusted wholly through; others still held. And to these adhered a few worm-eaten scraps of oak, pierced with rivets. The wreckage of a padlock lolled in mockery at one side of the now defense- less aperture. On the pathway, below the door, bits of iron had gathered, where the rain had washed them clean at the same time that it had carried off the detritus of rotting wood. Beyond this little pile the path ex- tended less than three feet, ending in a moraine of rubbish along the jutting ridge. Dennison perceived at once that now his MINIATURE SALT AND PEPPER SHAKERS Send 15 cents in coin or siomps to defroy cost of pocking ond mailing poir of solt ond pepper shokers mode from miniotures 4'/2 inches toll. Address Dept. S. P. THE AMERICAN DISTILLING CO.,INC. PEKIN, ILLINOIS (C(O) nn) (C 6)(0)©) Ss (C(O)