tive power, as stars and suns flashed through the story, and the man from Earth was caught in the titanic whirl of contending forces from the opposite corners of the universe. This powerful story will be published soon.
Frederic Raynbird, of Bulwark, Alberta, thinks Whispering Tunnels, by Stephen Bagby, is the best story Weird Tales has ever printed. This story appeared in the February issue. Writes Mr. Raynbird: "The truly weirdest tale, which has been most worthy of Weird Tales up to the present, was Whispering Tunnels. That tale was so much above the average for weirdness, that I consider it worth all the others put together, exceptionally good though the others were."
Harold Weight, of Pasadena, California, rushes to Stephen Bagby's defense in refuting a criticism made by a reader. "In the May Eyrie," he writes, "I noticed a criticism of Whispering Tunnels. The criticism, I believe, was that Mr. Bagby called the telegram yellow when it should have been blue. This spoiled the story for the critic, probably because the critic was reading it only to find errors instead of for the story. I think that story one of the best published since I started reading the magazine two years ago. I for one (and I think many Weird Tales readers will agree with me) was more interested in what the telegram contained than its color. At least I would not allow the color of a piece of paper to spoil such a fine story."
"I am sure that no one could be more enthusiastic over Weird Tales than I am," writes Thayer Burbank, of St, Louis, "and I heartily agree with Mr. Wender in the March issue in wanting the 'real scary kind'. Give us more stories of the occult, devil-worship, and more stories like The Iron Lady in the Crypt."
R. G. Macready, of Durant, Oklahoma, writes: "The May issue of Weird Tales is—well, I know of no adjective that can adequately describe it. I was held spellbound by Under the N-Ray, and it seems to me that F. B. Long's story is the multum in parvo of horror."
G. Winford Cunningham, of Garber, Missouri, writes: "Just one thing I've got to say about the magazine: it's too absorbing. Just can't quit it till every story is read, re-read, and then again. Come on with Weird Tales, and keep 'em 'weird'. I read every number, but have not horned in yet in the voting. I vote for Little Island in the April issue; it's a new brand, but a thoroughbred story."
And here's an enthusiastic boost from Stanleigh Miller, of Saginaw, Michigan: "Boy, I can sit down in my favorite chair in the library, chase the wife and kids away and become so engrossed in Weird Tales that I have to put one of the wife's imported Dryden vases on my head to hold my hair down. Then someone has the gigantic, the colossal, the stupendous nerve to ask you to desist from horror stories. Arrrrgh! Let me at him; I'll tear his windpipe out and play 'taps' on it. When a man's hair stands up straight, and his face feels drawn and has gooseflesh all over it, and his tongue feels like the morning after the night before, and his eyes feel kind of cold and seem to bulge out, and his spine twitches like a horse shaking off flies, and the sound of the wife kissing the kid good-night sounds like the charge of the Light Brigade, boy! That guy's enjoying the story! And that's me all over. Mr. Editor, please don't pay any attention to those calamity howlers. And please tell the rest of the fellows that like the stories to send a word in saying the same."
And R. Wulfric-Smith, of New York City, writes: "With regard to the foolish question as to whether or not you should keep Weird Tales weird
