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In the August number I thought the following were good: 'The Two Men Who Murdered Each Other,' 'The Strange Case of Jacob Arum,' 'Riders in the Dark,' 'Outcasts.'

The following fair: 'The Guard of Honor, 'Black Cunjer,' 'Shades.'

And the following bad: 'The Room in the Tower,' 'Senorita Serpente,' 'Mandrake.'

As you wisely remark, however, it is a good thing that everybody is not pleased by the same thing."


WE'VE received, and are still receiving, a considerable number of flattering letters about Austin Hall's bizarre serial, "The People of the Comet," which came to an end in the October number, and in view of this we feel persuaded to quote an excerpt from a letter which the author writes to us:

"My dear Mr. Baird: I hope that both your magazines will be going like whirlwinds before long. Let me commend you for the form of the magazines that you now have on the market, and let me give you a few pointers. When your DETECTIVE TALES came out I picked it up because I had to—because of its shape, size, neatness and general get-up. It spoke 'class' from the start. Then, when your WEIRD TALES came out—old style—I was interested; I had always wanted to see a magazine that catered to the imagination. I had hopes; but at first I was afraid. One newsstand that I was watching had fourteen copies and sold just one—and that one I bought myself. The same with the next issue. But when you came out with the large size—what a difference! I stepped into the newstand the other day, and out of fourteen they had one left."

After that (by way of thanking Mr. Hall), we can do no less than show him one of the many letters concerning his novel:

"My dear sir: Your September issue of WEIRD TALES more than upholds the standard set by your former numbers. The kaleidoscopic imagination of Austin Hall which produced that fantastic piece of fiction, 'The People of the Comet,' sets a pace which others may well emulate. Stories such as this intrigue the imagination, and in touching upon the wonderful possibilities of science they appeal to a great number of readers. They may be weird and fantastic without being downright revolting in their filth, as are many stories in which authors attempt the unusual. WEIRD TALES is 'Unique' and has its own place in the magazine field. Continue the present policy and style.—Charles G. Kidney, 1437 W. 126th St., Cleveland, Ohio."

Here is one that quite makes us blush—and fills us with gratitude:

"Mr. Edwin Baird: Just a word about WEIRD TALES. Some day the fiction center of the United States is going to shift from New York to Chicago; and then WEIRD TALES will be found leading the van if it keeps up with the WEIRD TALES of today. I find the ——— and other fiction magazines of the old style, as one would find a steady diet of oysters, palling. Fancy the same dish for twenty years! I scatter the copies of WEIRD TALES I buy in an endeavor to make more readers.—Sidney E. Johnson, Motor Route B, Box 395, Joplin, Mo."


FROM Mrs. Elizabeth Purington of 1018 W. Walnut. St., Santa Ana, California, comes an interesting letter in which she asks our opinion of a dream she had. We're not so good at interpreting feminine dreams, so we pass her letter on to you, with the hope that somebody may be able to help the lady:

"Dear Editor: Bought the September issue of WEIRD TALES last night and have just finished it. Sort of a relief, and yet I wish there were more. . . . I had rather a queer experience one night. Was it a dream, or, if not, what really happened? I 'dreamed' I died. I often faint while asleep, but this was different. I seemed to be conscious, but I can't be sure of that. Everything was dark, and I seemed to be walking along a rough road. All around me were dead bodies. I kept falling over them. Finally I saw a small light 'way ahead. When I reached it I was at the edge of a high cliff. Thinking I was going to fall, I glanced up and above me were a dozen or more illuminated hands. As I grasped a pair of these I turned cold, and then truly opened my eyes. I found myself stretched full length in bed, fully covered, but icy cold, and could not move a muscle. I must have lain this way for an hour or more before I felt warmth coming back to me. Then, and not before, I was able to move. . . . Do you think it was only a dream, or was it more than that? I'm all puzzled."

There's such a huge stack of letters here on our desk that, to use the utmost number of them, we'll have to step aside. and print 'em without editorial comment. After all, an editor, like a stage director, should stay in the wings, not in front of the curtain.

"Dear Mr. Baird: I have been reading all issues of WEIRD TALES, and I think the magazine is going, or should go, good. Four out of five yarns are A-1. Guess you saw the complimentary notice given it in the 'Thinks and Things' department of the Writers' Monthly several months ago. The newsstands here don't give your magazine much prominence; can't you get some advance placards regarding the current numbers? They help immensely. . . . As for DETECTIVE TALES, I don't think favorably of it. It's hard to get away from the regular formula detective stories; your Henry Leverage stories are the only ones that impress me. The make up and the illustrations of the two magazines are good, in my estima-

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