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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8f6175 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64955 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64955) diff --git a/old/64955-0.txt b/old/64955-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1055a99..0000000 --- a/old/64955-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1361 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 6, -February 1935, by Various - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 6, February 1935 - The Fan's Own Magazine - -Author: Various - -Editor: Charles D. Hornig - -Release Date: March 29, 2021 [eBook #64955] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER -6, FEBRUARY 1935 *** - - - - - SPECIAL SHORT STORY NUMBER - - THE FANTASY FAN - - THE FANS' OWN MAGAZINE - - Published - Monthly - - Editor: Charles D. Hornig - (Managing Editor: Wonder Stories) - - 10 cents a copy - $1.00 per year - - 137 West Grand Street, - Elizabeth, New Jersey - - Volume 2 - February 1935 - Number 6 - Whole No. 18 - - [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any - evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - - - - FINALE - -This, the February 1935 number, is the last issue of THE FANTASY FAN. -The life of TFF has extended over exactly one and a half years--since -September 1933, and during that time we have learned that there are not -enough lovers of weird fiction who are interested enough in the subject -to pay for a fan magazine. We may call it an experiment that failed. -We have done everything in our power to keep TFF from going on the -rocks, but our worst fears have been realized. Our printer, a fantasy -fan himself, gave his services for an amount far below that charged by -others so that TFF could exist from the first, but a steady increase -in well-paying jobs has deprived him of the time he usually devoted to -printing it. - -Our greatest regret is the necessity of breaking off H. P. Lovecraft's -"Supernatural Horror in Literature" in the middle of it. Dozens of -short stories, poems, weird articles and columns will have to be -returned to the authors. Writers who would like their unpublished -material to be turned over to the editors of _Fantasy Magazine_ should -advise us of it, all other contributions to be mailed back before May -first. - -Subscribers can help us and themselves at the same time if they will -accept back numbers of TFF in payment for the future issues that they -cannot receive. This will lighten the burden upon the editor who has -already lost a couple of hundred dollars in the venture, and will -provide readers with the issues they missed or duplicates of those they -have. In the latter case, they will find that back issues of TFF are -steadily increasing in value. The first issue, September 1933, which -is out of stock long ago, now markets for a value between 50 cents and -$1. per copy. Prices of back numbers are as follows: Oct., Dec., 1933, -Jan., Feb., Mar., June, Aug., Sept., Oct., Nov., Dec., 1934, Jan., -Feb., 1935--10 cents each; Nov., 1933, Apr., May, 1934--20 cents each; -Sept., 1933, July, 1934--out of stock. We would appreciate it if you -will take your refund in back issues, which, as we said, will soon -prove of considerable value. Subscribers who would not like to do this -will receive a refund in cash, charging them ten cents for each number -received in their subscriptions. All returns will be made before May -first. - -So, good-bye, friend reader--it's been nice to have met you! - - * * * * * - - - SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE - - by H. P. Lovecraft - - (copyright 1927 by W. Paul Cook) - - Part Seventeen - -Many of Hawthorne's shorter tales exhibit weirdness, either of -atmosphere or of incident, to a remarkable degree. "Edward Randolph's -Portrait," in "Legends of the Province House," has its diabolic -moments. "The Minister's Black Veil" (founded on an actual incident) -and "The Ambitious Guest" imply much more than they state, whilst -"Ethan Brand"--a fragment of a longer work never completed--rises to -genuine heights of cosmic fear with its vignette of the wild hill -country and the blazing, desolate lime-kilns, and its delineation -of the Byronic "unpardonable sinner," whose troubled life ends with -a peal of fearful laughter in the night as he seeks rest amidst the -flames of the furnace. Some of Hawthorne's notes tell of weird tales he -would have written had he lived longer--an especially vivid plot being -that concerning a baffling stranger who appeared now and then in public -assemblies, and who was at last followed and found to come and go from -a very ancient grave. - -But foremost as a finished, artistic unit among all our author's -weird material is the famous and exquisitely wrought novel, "The -House of the Seven Gables," in which the relentless working out of -an ancestral curse is developed with astonishing power against the -sinister background of a very ancient house--one of those peaked -Gothic affairs which formed the first regular building-up of our New -England coast towns, but which gave way after the seventeenth century -to the more familiar gambrel-roofed or classic Georgian types now known -as "Colonial." Of these old gabled Gothic houses scarcely a dozen are -to be seen today in their original condition throughout the United -States, but one well-known to Hawthorne still stands in Turner Street, -Salem, and is pointed out with doubtful authority as the scene and -inspiration of the romance. Such an edifice, with its spectral peaks, -its clustered chimneys, its overhanging second story, its grotesque -corner-brackets, and its diamond-paned lattice windows, is indeed an -object well-calculated to evoke sombre reflections; typifying as it -does the dark Puritan age of concealed horror and witch-whispers which -preceded the beauty, rationality, and spaciousness of the eighteenth -century. Hawthorne saw many in his youth, and knew the black tales -connected with some of them. He heard, too, many rumours of a curse -upon his own line as the result of his great-grandfather's severity as -a witchcraft judge in 1692. - -From this setting came the immortal tale--New England's greatest -contribution to weird literature--and we can feel in an instant the -authenticity of the atmosphere presented to us. Stealthy horror -and disease lurk within the weather-blackened, moss-crusted, and -elm-shadowed walls of the archaic dwelling so vividly displayed, -and we grasp the brooding malignity of the place when we read that -its builder--old Colonel Pyncheon--snatched the land with peculiar -ruthlessness from its original settler, Matthew Maule, whom he -condemned to the gallows as a wizard in the year of the panic. Maule -died cursing old Pyncheon--"God will give him blood to drink"--and -the waters of the old well on the seized land turned bitter. Maule's -carpenter son consented to build the great gabled house for his -father's triumphant enemy, but the old Colonel died strangely on the -day of its dedication. Then followed generations of odd vicissitudes, -with queer whispers about the dark powers of the Maules, and peculiar -and sometimes terrible ends befalling the Pyncheons. - -The overshadowing malevolence of the ancient home--almost as alive -as Poe's House of Usher, tho in subtler way--pervades the tale as a -recurrent motif pervades an operatic tragedy; and when the main story -is reached, we behold the modern Pyncheons in a pitiable state of -decay. Poor old Hepzibah, the eccentric reduced gentlewoman; childlike, -unfortunate Clifford, just released from undeserved imprisonment; -sly and treacherous Judge Pyncheon, who is the old Colonel all -over again--all these figures are tremendous symbols, and are well -matched by the stunted vegetation and anaemic fowls in the garden. -It was almost a pity to supply a fairly happy ending, with a union -of sprightly Phoebe, cousin and last scion of the Pyncheons, to the -prepossessing young man who turns out to be the last of Maules. This -union, presumably, ends the curse. Hawthorne avoids all violence of -diction or movement, and keeps his implications of terror well in -the background; but occasional glimpses amply serve to sustain the -mood and redeem the work from pure allegorical aridity. Incidents like -the bewitching of Alice Pyncheon in the early eighteenth century, -and the spectral music of her harpsichord which precedes a death -in the family--the latter a variant of an immemorial type of Aryan -myth--link the action directly with the supernatural; whilst the dread -nocturnal vigil of old Judge Pyncheon in the ancient parlour, with his -frightfully ticking watch, is stark horror of the most poignant and -genuine sort. The way in which the Judge's death is first adumbrated -by the motions and sniffing of a strange cat outside the window, long -before the fact is suspected either by the reader or by any of the -characters, is a stroke of genius which Poe could not have surpassed. -Later the strange cat watches intently outside that same window in the -night and on the next day, for--something. It is clearly the psychopomp -of primeval myth, fitted and adapted with infinite deftness to its -latter-day setting. - -But Hawthorne left no well-dined literary posterity. His mood and -attitude belonged to the age which closed with him, and it is the -spirit of Poe--who so clearly and realistically understood the -natural basis of the horror--appeal and the correct mechanics of its -achievements--which survived and blossomed. Among the earliest of Poe's -disciples may be reckoned the brilliant young Irishman Fitz-James -O'Brien (1828-1862) who became naturalized as an American and perished -honourably in the Civil War. It is he who gave us "What Was It?" the -first well-shaped short story of a tangible but invisible being, and -the prototype of de Maupassant's "Horla;" he also who created the -inimitable "Diamond Lens," in which a young microscopist falls in love -with a maiden of an infinitesimal world which he has discovered in a -drop of water. O'Brien's early death undoubtedly deprived us of some -masterful tales of strangeness and terror, though his genius was not, -properly speaking, of the same titan quality which characterized Poe -and Hawthorne. - - (Discontinued At This Point) - - * * * * * - - - GLEANINGS - - by Louis C. Smith - -I promise to write an article about that Great High God among fantasy -authors, M. P. Shiel; much of the best science-fantasy, from a literary -standpoint, has been written by him. Anyway, when you read "The Purple -Cloud," "Dr. Krasinski's Secret," "This Above All," or any of the other -two score novels penned by him, such little matters as scientific -accuracy never enter your head (which does not by any means imply that -his science is not correct to the N'th degree). A hypnotist with words -is M. P. Shiel. - -And he is--and has been--almost as much a Heaven-born genius as some of -the characters he weaves through the pages of his novels. He is fluent -with a half-dozen languages, is literally a master of all sciences, -writes in a blinding, complicated style no one else on Earth could -imitate--much less create!--and has written as many books as Haggard, -Burroughs, and a few others combined. At 12 he wrote a novel; at 13, -printed a newspaper; and at 15, wrote novels for serialization in large -public papers. - - * * * * * - -Lester Anderson, fantastiac extra-ordinary of Hayward, California, is -fortunate enough to count himself a very good friend and correspondent -of the lexicographical (hah!) Clark Ashton Smith. - -Speaking of whom: Smith and H. P. Lovecraft are great friends, by -correspondence. Lovecraft refers to C.A.S. as "My good old friend and -correspondent, Klarkash-Ton, Hierophant of Atlantis and High-Priest of -Tsathoggua." - - * * * * * - -Again Bram Stoker! His latest to chance my way is "The Jewel of Seven -Stars." With every reading of this English weird-tale master, I am -seized in profound melancholia, despairing the fact that he did not -live another twenty years, to pen another score novels. Not content -with being a master of superb plot (involved plot too!) Stoker went to -exquisite pains to instill that ultra-weird and chilling sense of the -unreal so characteristic of his work. - -In "Jewel of the Seven Stars," he spins a yarn of Egyptian queens who -wield a strange and powerful influence over the lives of present-day -people; of mummified cats walking again and striking in the dark, -vampire-like; of hypnotic spells and influences; of developments -so utterly mystifying and gripping, the reader cannot put the book -down after once opening it. And Bram Stoker's novels are not the -abbreviated two-hundred page book so much in evidence today; they are -voluminous; though not, I might mention, as "infinite" as "Anthony -Adverse." - - * * * * * - -Here is something--not strictly fantasy, but certainly of interest to -all who make fantasy a hobby--which I have deemed worthy of passing -on: about twenty years ago there lived in Honolulu, in the much-sung -Hawaiian Islands, a man, W. D. Westervelt by name, who spent all his -spare time in the collecting of legends and myths about volcanoes. -Perhaps the best result of his efforts was a little book called -"Legends of Hawaiian Volcanoes," small but crammed to the fly-leaves -with fascinating historical, scientific, and mythological data. Others -had the titles of "Legends of Ghosts and Ghost-Gods," "Legends of Old -Honolulu," "Legends of Maui," etc. No, not true fantasy, but they -read like first-rate weird stories. Incidentally, this is a field for -stories practically untouched; tales built around Hawaiian and other -old native legends have been scarce. - - * * * * * - -Once, in those dear dead days when I first awakened to the call of -fantasy, I was seized with some strange outbreak of energy; and -typed two copies of Edmond Hamilton's first tale, "The Monster God -of Mamurth." The copies are still on had. Not faultless typing, but -readable. If anyone has not read this great little story by Hamilton, -I'll gladly send a copy to the first two fans writing me. - - * * * * * - - - The Slanting Shadow - - by August W. Derleth - -Mr. Abner Follansbee, investigator for the Society for Psychic -Research, stopped his car to peer out into the Wisconsin woods. To his -companion he said, "This is apparently the place, Fred. There's a sign -off to one side. Pretty well shot. 'Kroll's Inn'. Let's see that young -lady's letter again." - -Fred Tenny took a letter from his inner coat pocket and thrust it -toward Follansbee, who opened it and regarded the scrawled writing -dubiously. - -"Probably just another wild goose chase," he said presently. "Looks -to me more like a matter for the police. The girl's guardian, Uriah -Kroll, disappeared over a year ago--and since then his room has been -very strange. That's all it amounts to. I suppose the young lady thinks -she's got a ghost on her hands." - -The younger man smiled. "Something about a shadow, isn't there?" - -"Yes. 'There's a queer shadow on the bed in his room when the moon -shines,' she writes. 'I can't understand it. It shouldn't be there.' -That's all." - -"Very lucid," commented Tenny laconically. - -The inn itself was a quiet little house of stone, hugging the ground in -the middle of a clearing not very far from the heavily wooded roadside. -A flagstone walk led up to a low stone porch, where the key to the -front door lay under the mat, just where Miss Harriet Sears had said it -would be in her letter to Follansbee. - -As he bent to unlock the door, Follansbee said, "At least we can thank -goodness we're alone. Miss Sears isn't likely to come bursting in on us -at all hours of the night--she vowed she'd never set foot inside the -building until we'd settled that shadow business." - -He threw the door open on a short hallway leading directly into a -low, raftered sitting-room, into which Follansbee immediately strode, -followed by his companion. The room was comfortably and well furnished -with antique pieces. The chairs were curiously carved and obviously -hand-made. Follansbee, however, wasted no time in the sitting-room, but -led the way into another, smaller room, and around into a large bedroom -in the southeast corner of the building. - -This was the room which had been occupied by Uriah Kroll, prior to his -disappearance, as described in Miss Sears' letter. It was a large, -oddly furnished room, with a bed against the south wall, and a single -chair next to it, the north wall of the room next the door being -occupied by what appeared to be a work-bench. Follansbee, having looked -cursorily at the bed, went over to the bench and bent above it. - -Tenny came over and stood at his side. - -"What do you make of it?" Follansbee asked. - -"Queer outfit," Tenny replied. "Looks as if he might have been blowing -glass, doesn't it?" - -Follansbee bent and took up a book. "Well, look at this," he said in -surprise. "Arbatel's _Treatise on Magic_." - -"Yes," supplemented Tenny excitedly, "and see here--he's got a trident, -and incense, and oils--why, he dabbled in magic!" - -"No doubt of it," assented Follansbee gravely. - -He put the book down and examined the instruments on the bench. He -chuckled oddly to himself, held up a magical diagram made on a sheet of -stiff paper, and smiled at it with Tenny. Then he turned away, looked -once more about the room, and said, "If you brought the lunch kit, -we'll eat. The sun'll go down in about three-quarters of an hour, and -the moon'll be up shortly after. We might as well be ready." - -"What's the procedure?" - -"We sleep here--nice, comfortable double bed, as far as I can see," -replied Follansbee. - -Lunch eaten, the two investigators returned to the bedroom where they -were to sleep. The moon had already risen, so long had they sat in -the kitchen, but it was not yet throwing its light through the single -window to the south. Follansbee and Tenny sat talking for the better -part of an hour. - -It was the older man who first noticed that the moonlight had reached -the counterpane of the bed. "There we are," he said. "Now for the -shadow." - -They sat for a few minutes in silence, while the light of the moon -crept in a parallelogram across the counterpane. But there was no -shadow save the shadow of a tree, a few branches of which dipped into -the moonlight. - -Presently Follansbee rose and went in some irritation over to the bed -and stood looking down at the patch of moonlight. "Batty as can be," he -murmured, obviously referring to Miss Harriet Sears. - -Tenny, who had drifted to his side, said suddenly, "what a funny angle -those branches have!" - -Follansbee bent abruptly closer. "As if they were coming from above," -he murmured. "But look here--they're not just branches--they're like a -forest of little trees, and what odd spines for leaves!" - -Suddenly he whirled to the window. "Oh, now I see," he said harshly. -"_There's no tree of any kind beyond the window!_" - -"Nor anything to make that shadow," added Tenny. - -They stood for a few moments scrutinizing the glass and looking through -it into the clearing outside. The line of trees to the south was too -far for any shadow to reach the house; the trees were shadowed in an -uneven line across the clearing below. Then they returned to the bed -and stood looking down at the counterpane. - -"Well, there has to be some explanation," said Tenny. - -Follansbee nodded. "But I don't get it," he said. Then he stopped -abruptly, staring down at the parallelogram of moonlight widening eyes. - -Tenny followed the older man's startled gaze. - -There, in the moonlight, was a tiny, moving shadow--a shadow only -slightly over two inches in height, moving with incredible rapidity, -yet achieving no distance in the parallelogram of moonlight--the figure -of a man! - -Back and forth it ran within a space so small that it might have been -covered by the extended palm of a hand. The two men stared in growing -amazement. Then Follansbee turned to the window again. But there was -nothing there--nothing on the glass, nothing against the glass outside, -nothing flying against the moonlight in the sky. - -He turned back to the bed. The shadow was still there. He bent, peering -intently. The incredible shadow was running wildly, this way and that, -its tiny arms outflung, its spindle-legs moving rapidly upon the -counterpane, a thing alive, yet without substance. - -"Good God," muttered Tenny at last. "It's a man--it's a live man. But -where is he?" - -"I don't know," Follansbee jerked out. - -He stood for a few moments more, his fascination for the unbelievable -shadow holding him there; then he swung away and went over to the -work-bench, where he lit a lamp and began to thumb swiftly through a -group of the old books lying carelessly abandoned there. - -Tenny followed, asking, "Can I help?" - -The older man nodded. "Check up on all references to magical designs in -these books," he said. "I've got an idea. I don't know what's in it, -but it's worth trying." - -It was Follansbee who found what they sought. "Here it is," he said -suddenly. "Magical designs on glass. It's been marked up by someone, -too--Kroll, most likely. Parts of it are illegible, but the sense of it -can be made out. Third paragraph down in the second column." - -Tenny bent to read the printed lines on the yellow page: - -"Certain mages have brought into being worlds of glass--invisible in -glass, the objects of such consistency that though they cannot be seen -in the light of the sun, they are shadowed by the moon.... The glass is -of no ordinary kind, but must be specially made. And the creatures to -be placed there may be drawn from the mind or from life." - -"You see?" cut in Follansbee, drawing the book away. "That's what -he was doing--but something happened. He tried it on himself, and -vanished." - -Tenny turned astonished eyes on the glass in the window. - -Follansbee abruptly left the work-bench and, going over to the window, -raised it. "It's the upper pane we want," he murmured. "It must be -broken--there's no other way. But be careful that all the pieces fall -into the room." - -As he spoke, the older man pulled down the upper half of the window. -Then he drew the curtain down outside the glass, and into the room -again below. - -"All right," he said. "Break it, Fred." - -Tenny rapped sharply against the glass of the upper pane. It did not -break. He struck it harder with the trident from the work-bench. Still -it did not break. Then he smashed into it with all his strength. The -glass broke into incredibly small fragments that slithered down the -drawn curtain to the floor. - -Follansbee let the curtain snap up. Looking down, he and Tenny -exclaimed simultaneously. The window lay in silver fragments on the -carpet in the moonlight that stretched to the bed--but beyond the -fragments ran a tiny dark shadow, of substance now. - -"Good God!" breathed Follansbee hoarsely. "_The dimensions didn't -change!_" - -"It's Kroll," said Tenny. He swooped to seize hold of the figure on the -carpet, but at that moment it disappeared under the bed. He sank to his -knees. "Kroll!" he shouted. "Come out, Kroll!" - -There was a vague scuttering noise beneath the bed. - -Follansbee came to his knees at Tenny's side and peered into the -moonlit dusk beneath the bed. "Kroll" he whispered softly. Turning -abruptly, he said to Tenny, "Get over on the other side. He's skirting -the wall toward the door." - -Tenny moved to obey. - -Then suddenly there came a quick rustle, a dark shadow launched itself -from the wall upon the two-inch figure that crept toward the door, -there was a shrill squeal, a tiny human scream, and abrupt, unnatural -silence. - -"_A rat_," whispered Follansbee shakily. "_My God!_" - -He got up unsteadily and looked down at the bed. The moonlight lay -unbroken on the counterpane. - - The End - - * * * * * - - - KARLOFF'S MONSTER - - by Forrest J. Ackerman - -An interview of extreme interest to fantasy film fans was that of Boris -Karloff with Jimmie Fidler over the air on the "Hollywood on the Air" -program earlier in the year. Karloff spoke: "I shall create a Monster -like Frankenstein's. No brain--just a huge creature which shall guard -against reporters and interviewers. Connect the electrodes!" A snap. -"Throw the switches!" A crackling of electricity. And Karloff, crying: -"It lives ... it moves! ... it lives.... Karloff's monster LIVES!" Then -the Monster spoke--with the voice of Jimmie Fidler, the interviewer. -"Alas"--Karloff was in despair; "I _have_ created a Frankenstein -monster: it's a fan magazine writer!" And Jimmie Fidler then proceeded -to question him. Proving himself to be anything but one of the many -monsters he has portrayed, William Henry Pratt (known on the screen -as the man from Karloffornia who is sure to never Boris) stated in a -private word addressed to his admirers that he greatly appreciated all -their letters, and that he was always grateful for criticism received -of his work. - - * * * * * - -His next pictures will be "Frankenstein Lives Again!" "A Trip to Mars," -"The Werewolf of London," and "The Raven." - - * * * * * - - - The Legacy - - by Kenneth B. Pritchard - -My friend, Frederick Brown, and I are lawyers. Lawyers often come up -against strange cases; but the case that Brown had a while ago, was the -oddest and by far the most weird I have ever heard of. - -Brown and I were lunching together one noon, when the subject was -broached of the peculiar things that one sometimes meets up with. - -"James," said Fred, "You never had anything happen to you that can -compare with a certain case of mine; I'll wager on it." - -"Shoot," I said. "Let's have an earful. What's it all about?" - -"I had a legacy," he began without hesitation, "a few weeks ago, -that was void to all concerned unless it was signed by one man. All -others involved had attached their signatures to the documents. But, -Ogleman's--that was his name--was missing." - -"You mean the Ogleman that died a short time ago?" I broke in. - -"The same," Brown admonished. "I must hasten to add," he went on, "that -a time limit was set, on this certain day, in which the signatures must -be obtained. Ogleman was not in town. - -"The final limit was set for 8 P. M. For days, before the last one -arrived, my client had me sending out feelers in all directions trying -to contact this one man. The evening before the final day, I at last -got in touch with him, and he promised to come without delay. He wired -back that he would leave in the morning as he was situated in a place -where transportation facilities were not the best. All I could do then, -was wait. - -"Ten o'clock the next morning I received a telegram. Ogleman had been -struck by a speeding auto. But as I read further, I realized that the -man would arrive anyway. His condition I did not know, as the message -had imparted no more than the two facts I've already given. - -"It was half past seven that evening that the missing man showed up at -my client's home. He was quite a sight, I can assure you." - -My friend paused as though to reflect upon the unusual scene. His eyes -widened for a moment in sudden horror, and then he continued in his -regular manner. - -"I found myself looking at him as I shook his one good hand. The other -arm was in a sling that had been hastily made. His head had a bandage -around it, and his face was white; almost the color of several patches -adhering to it. - -"My client shook hands with him also. 'Glad you came, Ogleman,' he -said, 'Everything depends on you, you know.' - -"'Yes,' said Ogleman as he relinquished his hand, 'I know that the -legacy must be signed.' - -"His voice seemed strangely hollow and unnatural, and there was an -unreal appearance about the man. - -"He turned to me. I shuddered somewhat at the bits of blood that had -caked on the bandages. 'We must hurry,' he said, 'The time is short. -Have you the papers ready?' he asked eagerly. - -"'Yes,' I replied, 'everything is ready. Come over to the table with -me. There is a chair there, and you can sit down and sign.' - -"I felt that he would collapse if he did not be seated soon. - -"I handed him the pen, and gave him the papers, showing him where to -sign. Being hurt as he was, it was very difficult for him to write. -However, he managed to scrawl his name on the last sheet. All was -legal, then. - -"I took the pen from his hand and said, 'Now it is done. There won't be -any more trouble over it.' I somehow forced a smile. - -"My client beamed approvingly. But Ogleman never stirred. I looked -at him. He pitched forward on the table. I was greatly alarmed and -hastened my client to summon a doctor. - -"Ogleman was dead!" - -"I've heard of tales like that before," I remarked dryly. - -"Maybe," rejoined Brown, "But the doctor said that Ogleman had been -dead for ten hours!" - - The End - - * * * * * - - - WITHIN THE CIRCLE - - by F. Lee Baldwin - -A. Merritt is contemplating a sequel to "Thru the Dragon Glass." - - * * * * * - -Robert Bloch recently sold his second story to WT. Title: "The Feast in -the Abbey." - - * * * * * - -H. P. Lovecraft is working on a tale called "The Shadow Out of Time." - - * * * * * - -Adolph de Castro, author of "The Last Test" and "The Electric -Executioner," is 74 years old, a graduate of Bonn, and master of 7 -languages. He has had published work of undoubted importance. Some of -his unpublished books are of great potential interest and value.... -He lived in Mexico from 1922 to 1925 and had interviews with Villa -and his generals in 1923; from whom he derived an account of the -end of his associate and colleague Ambrose Bierce at the hand of -these revolutionists. There are three slightly differing reports as -to Bierce's death, all of which are probably carelessly transmitted -variants of the actual facts. De Castro's original name is Gustav -Adolf Danziger--he changed it during the World War, taking the name -of a remote Spanish ancestor. He came to America in 1886 and was a -dentist for a long period. Also pursued politics to some extent and was -American consul at Madrid for a time. The piece of work he did with -Bierce was translating the German novel of Richard Voss--"The Monk and -the Hangman's Daughter." He was German-speaking and (1889) was not -fluent in English. Bierce, on the other hand, was a master of English -but knew no German. De Castro--or Danziger--admired the Voss novel and -made a rough translation, with certain modifications, into such English -as he knew. Then Bierce took that crude translation and made the -present admirable English novelette out of it. The book as it stands is -a curious three-man job. It is not a weird tale. - - * * * * * - - - The Mirror - - (Annals of the Jinns--9) - - by R. H. Barlow - -Upon a certain day in the year of the Plague of Dragons, the Emperor -of Yondath held court in his ancient palace above the crypts. Many of -his subjects had come from sheer curiosity, and when he cast sentence -upon Khalda, at least two of the more squeamish shuddered. For he had -condemned the sorcerer Khalda to the tortures of the Green Fungi, and -of course every one knew what meant. Even if they had been obtuse or -ignorant of the ways of the torturers in the subterranean rooms, the -austere and saturnine look upon the face of His Majesty would have -implied much that was not pleasant. - -But Khalda, the only pupil of the wise one Volnar, stood scornfully -before the throne and gave no sign of terror, although his doom was -a fabled and terrible one. He even contrived an ironic obeisance -before they took him away. The two ugly slaves that held him exchanged -significant looks as they silently led him out of the gorgeously-hung -room. Then those who had gathered began to depart, and many resolved -not to anger their ruler after that. - -Khalda's crime, it had been proclaimed, was that of high sacrilege. -Not only had he sought through ancient and unwholesome magic the -creation of artificial life, but he had spat upon the greenstone feet -of the great idol in the market place, and asserted that the deity was -impotent and its priests humbug. Perhaps this iconoclastic behavior -was regretted by Khalda, since his destination was not pleasant to -contemplate, but he gave no sign as the slaves led him through a series -of connected chambers. Each of these dimly-lit rooms was more ancient -in appearance than the one preceding, and after he had traversed some -dozen, the very bricks of the wall were so slimy with old moss that -they emitted a noxious odour. Likewise the passages grew steadily -darker. - -Legend told of the things that lay beneath the palace, and of the Head -Torturer Malyat that had dwelt in his crypt for untold years without -being seen by man. It was said that his face was obscured from even his -victims, by an ancient and grotesque mask. On this Khalda reflected as -the guards paused to light their tapers at a sconce tipped by a pool -of sulphurous flame that seethed and boiled endlessly. He wondered at -this, for no tracks disturbed the settled dust, yet the torch was as -if newly kindled. Guided now by this melancholy light, they descended -again, their torch but little dispelling the gloom. In this manner they -made their way toward the lower chambers. Khalda wondered at the labor -that must have gone into chiseling these chambers from the rock, and at -the ponderous ornamental masonry that remained yet immovable after so -long a time. - -At length they came to an ultimate passage fronting a huge door of iron -curiously decorated and covered with the patina of aeons. This appeared -most formidable to the prisoner. It was upon this ancient portal that -the guards smote with their clanging brazen swords and then retired, -leaving Khalda alone. He wondered what evil thing would appear as he -saw the door slowly opening. - -Then, in a terrible silence that his shrieks did not wholly dispel, a -metal projection not unlike a tentacle rhythmically emerged, swayed a -moment, and wrapped itself about him. - -And he was drawn into the chamber of Malyat. - - * * * * * - -Four cycles of the crimson moon elapsed before rumours found their way -to the ears of the emperor. A tale was told of the last creation of the -sorcerer, a masterpiece of malign sorcery, that had escaped destruction -by the zealots of the greenstone god. - -It was said that all the work of Khalda was evil, but that this last -creation was supreme. Even unto his last days he had labored and -expended his talents upon a certain mirror of strange design. No man -knew the purpose for which it was shapen; but it was certain that -Khalda had not constructed it for the dubious vanity of reflecting -his withered visage. The polished glass in it had come from the -subterranean artizans of Saaldae, and it was polished and silvered -by devious means. And the frame was of ebony strangely wrought with a -monstrous carving. Great skill had gone into this, yet none knew its -precise whereabouts, and the tales could find no definite origin. - -So the Emperor had scrolls lettered in the hieroglyphs of the land, and -these were posted about the capitol and all the outlying provinces. -And they said that any man that could produce this mirror would have a -reward bestowed upon him. - -At first there came many with false claims, but a supplementary -proclamation was issued, to the effect that imposters would be -painfully disposed of, and thereafter the ruler was little annoyed. - -But in time there came an ancient one, unbelievably filthy, and clad -in garments of odorous antiquity. His face was hideously wrinkled, -yet it held a certain inscrutable wisdom. This repulsive being came -unto the palace gates and demanded entrance. And the guards at first -laughed, and then grew angry, and would have run him through with their -long lances, had not the Emperor intervened and called upon his men -to desist. For he had heard the commotion and became curious. Thus -admittance was granted to the beggarly person, and he entered as if he -had expected this from the start. - -In dignity he went, and bowed before the throne, strangely incongruous -amid the richly clad servants that shrank from him in repugnance. The -Emperor's dwarf sought to make mock of the foul being, and rolled -completely off his cushion in gales of false amusement; but he saw the -eyes of the stranger and straightway climbed back, mumbling in a surly -tone to himself. - -The Emperor bade him state his mission, and the old one spoke in a -manner remarkable for one so uncouth, saying, "I have brought the -object you desire." - -With great interest, the Emperor bade him display it, but the old one -refused, stating in tones of certainty that he wished to make a few -observations first. - -"I might press my claim," observed the Emperor, somewhat amused by this -effrontery. - -"I believe I have likewise the right of naming my price," suggested the -old man. - -"Truly," assented his majesty, "but first tell me, what is this mirror?" - -"It is the mirror of Truth," was the reply. - -"A pretty allegory," remarked the Monarch, and settled back. - -So it was, the unclean person spoke freely in the court of the ruler. - -"You will recall that this mirror was constructed by a certain -sorcerer," he began in an unpleasant tone. "And you will also recall -that this sorcerer did you a great service once ... did he not, -Majesty?" - -The Emperor looked startled, and then very grave. - -"He did ... but how came you to know of this?" - -"I shall elucidate when the time has come. Likewise, did you promise -certain things to this sorcerer in return for his labors?" - -The Emperor's eyes smoldered with secret fury, but he said nothing. - -"This you ignored, and some moons agone had the wonderworker--I believe -he was referred to as a blasphemer in the sentencing--this man you had -brought before you and sent to the terrible tortures of Malyat. Am I -not correct?" - -"That is common knowledge," asserted the ruler, uneasily. - -"And he was taken to his doom?" - -"My slaves seldom fail me." - -"I am grateful to your majesty, for truth was essential. I have the -mirror here," said the old one, abruptly. - -"What wish you in return?" - -"It is yours--my payment will be given me in due time." - -And as the Emperor leaned forward, the man announced his identity and -drew back his tattered robe, revealing the horror that lay beneath. - -Then as the Emperor gazed in fascinated repulsion, Khalda drew forth -the mirror, with its strangely shapen handle, and held it up that all -might see. - -And when the ruler looked therein, no man may know what was reflected, -for a strange and terrible thing occurred. Some dire magic was at work, -for the doom that came unto his majesty was alien to all accepted lines -of death. - - The End - - * * * * * - - - The Little Old Lady - - by P. J. Searles - -Connors was genuinely puzzled. What had happened to the old lady? -Surely she could not have fallen from the car. On the other hand why -should she have left before reaching her destination and how could she -have got out without his notice? Her disappearance was perplexing. - -He had first seen the old lady when he had stopped to admire the -picturesque church on the outskirts of Huntsville. Wearing an old -fashioned, rather shabby, taffeta dress ornamented at the throat -and wrists with bits of yellowed lace, a bonnet that proclaimed her -adherence to the fashions of 1880; and with a sole jet pendant hanging -from her neck, she was standing near the car as Connors came out of the -church and strolled through the adjoining grave yard reading quaint -inscriptions on the tombstones. Her manner was forlorn and pathetic -as she edged timidly up to Connors to ask in a low voice if he were -driving on to Milltown. When Connors replied in the affirmative the old -lady hesitantly mumbled that she had not seen her daughter in Milltown -for five years and could she ride into the city with him. - -Since the front seat was loaded with bundles Connors had placed the old -lady in the rear and driven on. Some twenty miles had been traversed -and the outskirts of Milltown reached when Connors discovered he was -out of cigarettes. Stopping the car at a corner drugstore he went -in to buy his favorite brand. Once inside he recalled the old lady's -presence and, stepping out again, asked if she would like an ice cream -soda. Her pleasure and gratitude seemed all out of proportion to the -offer until she said she had not tasted ice cream for over five years. - -When they were ready to drive on again Connors asked the old lady -where she wanted to be taken. At first she was certain she could walk -the rest of the way but finally agreed with Connors' insistence that -he could easily drive her to the daughter's home which she had never -visited. Number 17 Portland street was the address she gave, an address -that took Connors far out of his normal route into an unfamiliar -section of the city. After perhaps fifteen minutes of driving he -reached Portland street and stopped the car at a corner to inquire -directions for number 17. The first person he asked pointed to a house -four doors from the corner. - -It was at this moment that Connors turned around and discovered the old -lady was missing. - -Her disappearance was puzzling. It seemed unbelievable that she could -have left the car without being noticed by Connors, or that she would -have left without so much as "Thank you," but the fact remained that -she was gone. Connors jumped out of his seat, looked up and down the -street, glanced behind the car, peered into the corner there was no -sight of the old lady. - -Connors was both perplexed and irritated. After a moment's indecision -he stepped across to number 17 and rang the bell. His summons was -answered by a pleasant looking, young woman. - -"Pardon me," said Connors, "I am afraid I don't know your name, but are -you expecting your mother today?" - -"My mother," replied the woman with a gasp, "why--why, what do you -mean?" - -"A nice old lady in Huntsville this morning asked me to drive her to -17 Portland street to visit her daughter whom she hadn't seen for five -years. I brought her into town but when I stopped at the corner there -to inquire the way I found she was no longer in the car. So I came on -here to ask if she had already arrived." - -"What did she look like?" - -"A sweet old lady, short and slender, snow white hair, pale thin -cheeks, wearing an old fashioned taffeta dress with yellowed lace and a -jet necklace. Is that your mother?" - -"Yes, that is my mother but she died in Huntsville five years ago -today." - - The End - - * * * * * - - Good-bye, Friends - - * * * * * - - - ADVERTISEMENTS - -CLARK ASHTON SMITH presents THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES--a -booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric -tales--stories of exotic beauty, horror, terror, strangeness, irony and -satire. Price: 25 cents each (coin or stamps). Also a small remainder -of EBONY AND CRYSTAL--a book of prose-poems published at $2.00, reduced -to $1.00 per copy. Everything sent postpaid. Clark Ashton Smith, -Auburn, California. - - * * * * * - -WEIRD TALES 1924-25-26-27 and Ghost Stories. Have several incomplete -issues W. T. 1927-28-29 to sell at 10 cts each, also some 1931-32 -covers and five issues TFF. Joseph Robinsky, 241 Lincoln Ave., -Elizabeth, N. J. - - * * * * * - - FANTASY MAGAZINE - expresses its sincerest regrets that - THE FANTASY FAN - can no longer continue. - - * * * * * - -If you have not yet read FM, try it now, for in the April issue, which -is dedicated to _Weird Tales_, the following outstanding features -appear: - - "Nymph of Darkness" - by C. L. Moore - - A new "Northwest" Smith story, - illustrated by Miss Moore - - H. P. Lovecraft, a biography - by F. Lee Baldwin - -also articles by Farnsworth Wright, Seabury Quinn, and others. - -FM features many articles and poems by such foremost authors as Clark -Ashton Smith, A. Merritt, Francis Flagg, and H. P. Lovecraft regularly. - - 10 cts a copy, 25 cts for 3 months - - Science Fiction Digest Company - 87-36--162nd St., Jamaica, N. 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Hornig. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2,h3 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 25%; margin-left: 37.5%; margin-right: 37.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -.ph1 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; } -.ph1 { font-size: medium; margin: .83em auto; } - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 6, February 1935, by Various</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<table style='min-width:0; padding:0; margin-left:0; border-collapse:collapse'> - <tr><td>Title:</td><td>The Fantasy Fan, Volume 2, Number 6, February 1935</td></tr> - <tr><td></td><td>The Fan's Own Magazine</td></tr> -</table> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Charles D. Hornig</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 29, 2021 [eBook #64955]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER 6, FEBRUARY 1935 ***</div> - -<div class=" x-ebookmaker-drop figcenter"> - <img src="images/title.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - - -<p class="ph1">[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any<br /> -evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>FINALE</h3> - -<p>This, the February 1935 number, is the last issue of THE FANTASY FAN. -The life of TFF has extended over exactly one and a half years—since -September 1933, and during that time we have learned that there are not -enough lovers of weird fiction who are interested enough in the subject -to pay for a fan magazine. We may call it an experiment that failed. -We have done everything in our power to keep TFF from going on the -rocks, but our worst fears have been realized. Our printer, a fantasy -fan himself, gave his services for an amount far below that charged by -others so that TFF could exist from the first, but a steady increase -in well-paying jobs has deprived him of the time he usually devoted to -printing it.</p> - -<p>Our greatest regret is the necessity of breaking off H. P. Lovecraft's -"Supernatural Horror in Literature" in the middle of it. Dozens of -short stories, poems, weird articles and columns will have to be -returned to the authors. Writers who would like their unpublished -material to be turned over to the editors of <i>Fantasy Magazine</i> should -advise us of it, all other contributions to be mailed back before May -first.</p> - -<p>Subscribers can help us and themselves at the same time if they will -accept back numbers of TFF in payment for the future issues that they -cannot receive. This will lighten the burden upon the editor who has -already lost a couple of hundred dollars in the venture, and will -provide readers with the issues they missed or duplicates of those they -have. In the latter case, they will find that back issues of TFF are -steadily increasing in value. The first issue, September 1933, which -is out of stock long ago, now markets for a value between 50 cents and -$1. per copy. Prices of back numbers are as follows: Oct., Dec., 1933, -Jan., Feb., Mar., June, Aug., Sept., Oct., Nov., Dec., 1934, Jan., -Feb., 1935—10 cents each; Nov., 1933, Apr., May, 1934—20 cents each; -Sept., 1933, July, 1934—out of stock. We would appreciate it if you -will take your refund in back issues, which, as we said, will soon -prove of considerable value. Subscribers who would not like to do this -will receive a refund in cash, charging them ten cents for each number -received in their subscriptions. All returns will be made before May -first.</p> - -<p>So, good-bye, friend reader—it's been nice to have met you!</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE</h2> - -<h3>by H. P. Lovecraft</h3> - -<p class="ph1">(copyright 1927 by W. Paul Cook)</p> - -<p class="ph1">Part Seventeen</p> - -<p>Many of Hawthorne's shorter tales exhibit weirdness, either of -atmosphere or of incident, to a remarkable degree. "Edward Randolph's -Portrait," in "Legends of the Province House," has its diabolic -moments. "The Minister's Black Veil" (founded on an actual incident) -and "The Ambitious Guest" imply much more than they state, whilst -"Ethan Brand"—a fragment of a longer work never completed—rises to -genuine heights of cosmic fear with its vignette of the wild hill -country and the blazing, desolate lime-kilns, and its delineation -of the Byronic "unpardonable sinner," whose troubled life ends with -a peal of fearful laughter in the night as he seeks rest amidst the -flames of the furnace. Some of Hawthorne's notes tell of weird tales he -would have written had he lived longer—an especially vivid plot being -that concerning a baffling stranger who appeared now and then in public -assemblies, and who was at last followed and found to come and go from -a very ancient grave.</p> - -<p>But foremost as a finished, artistic unit among all our author's -weird material is the famous and exquisitely wrought novel, "The -House of the Seven Gables," in which the relentless working out of -an ancestral curse is developed with astonishing power against the -sinister background of a very ancient house—one of those peaked -Gothic affairs which formed the first regular building-up of our New -England coast towns, but which gave way after the seventeenth century -to the more familiar gambrel-roofed or classic Georgian types now known -as "Colonial." Of these old gabled Gothic houses scarcely a dozen are -to be seen today in their original condition throughout the United -States, but one well-known to Hawthorne still stands in Turner Street, -Salem, and is pointed out with doubtful authority as the scene and -inspiration of the romance. Such an edifice, with its spectral peaks, -its clustered chimneys, its overhanging second story, its grotesque -corner-brackets, and its diamond-paned lattice windows, is indeed an -object well-calculated to evoke sombre reflections; typifying as it -does the dark Puritan age of concealed horror and witch-whispers which -preceded the beauty, rationality, and spaciousness of the eighteenth -century. Hawthorne saw many in his youth, and knew the black tales -connected with some of them. He heard, too, many rumours of a curse -upon his own line as the result of his great-grandfather's severity as -a witchcraft judge in 1692.</p> - -<p>From this setting came the immortal tale—New England's greatest -contribution to weird literature—and we can feel in an instant the -authenticity of the atmosphere presented to us. Stealthy horror -and disease lurk within the weather-blackened, moss-crusted, and -elm-shadowed walls of the archaic dwelling so vividly displayed, -and we grasp the brooding malignity of the place when we read that -its builder—old Colonel Pyncheon—snatched the land with peculiar -ruthlessness from its original settler, Matthew Maule, whom he -condemned to the gallows as a wizard in the year of the panic. Maule -died cursing old Pyncheon—"God will give him blood to drink"—and -the waters of the old well on the seized land turned bitter. Maule's -carpenter son consented to build the great gabled house for his -father's triumphant enemy, but the old Colonel died strangely on the -day of its dedication. Then followed generations of odd vicissitudes, -with queer whispers about the dark powers of the Maules, and peculiar -and sometimes terrible ends befalling the Pyncheons.</p> - -<p>The overshadowing malevolence of the ancient home—almost as alive -as Poe's House of Usher, tho in subtler way—pervades the tale as a -recurrent motif pervades an operatic tragedy; and when the main story -is reached, we behold the modern Pyncheons in a pitiable state of -decay. Poor old Hepzibah, the eccentric reduced gentlewoman; childlike, -unfortunate Clifford, just released from undeserved imprisonment; -sly and treacherous Judge Pyncheon, who is the old Colonel all -over again—all these figures are tremendous symbols, and are well -matched by the stunted vegetation and anaemic fowls in the garden. -It was almost a pity to supply a fairly happy ending, with a union -of sprightly Phoebe, cousin and last scion of the Pyncheons, to the -prepossessing young man who turns out to be the last of Maules. This -union, presumably, ends the curse. Hawthorne avoids all violence of -diction or movement, and keeps his implications of terror well in -the background; but occasional glimpses amply serve to sustain the -mood and redeem the work from pure allegorical aridity. Incidents like -the bewitching of Alice Pyncheon in the early eighteenth century, -and the spectral music of her harpsichord which precedes a death -in the family—the latter a variant of an immemorial type of Aryan -myth—link the action directly with the supernatural; whilst the dread -nocturnal vigil of old Judge Pyncheon in the ancient parlour, with his -frightfully ticking watch, is stark horror of the most poignant and -genuine sort. The way in which the Judge's death is first adumbrated -by the motions and sniffing of a strange cat outside the window, long -before the fact is suspected either by the reader or by any of the -characters, is a stroke of genius which Poe could not have surpassed. -Later the strange cat watches intently outside that same window in the -night and on the next day, for—something. It is clearly the psychopomp -of primeval myth, fitted and adapted with infinite deftness to its -latter-day setting.</p> - -<p>But Hawthorne left no well-dined literary posterity. His mood and -attitude belonged to the age which closed with him, and it is the -spirit of Poe—who so clearly and realistically understood the -natural basis of the horror—appeal and the correct mechanics of its -achievements—which survived and blossomed. Among the earliest of Poe's -disciples may be reckoned the brilliant young Irishman Fitz-James -O'Brien (1828-1862) who became naturalized as an American and perished -honourably in the Civil War. It is he who gave us "What Was It?" the -first well-shaped short story of a tangible but invisible being, and -the prototype of de Maupassant's "Horla;" he also who created the -inimitable "Diamond Lens," in which a young microscopist falls in love -with a maiden of an infinitesimal world which he has discovered in a -drop of water. O'Brien's early death undoubtedly deprived us of some -masterful tales of strangeness and terror, though his genius was not, -properly speaking, of the same titan quality which characterized Poe -and Hawthorne.</p> - -<p class="ph1">(Discontinued At This Point)</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>GLEANINGS<br /> -by Louis C. Smith</h3> - - -<p>I promise to write an article about that Great High God among fantasy -authors, M. P. Shiel; much of the best science-fantasy, from a literary -standpoint, has been written by him. Anyway, when you read "The Purple -Cloud," "Dr. Krasinski's Secret," "This Above All," or any of the other -two score novels penned by him, such little matters as scientific -accuracy never enter your head (which does not by any means imply that -his science is not correct to the N'th degree). A hypnotist with words -is M. P. Shiel.</p> - -<p>And he is—and has been—almost as much a Heaven-born genius as some of -the characters he weaves through the pages of his novels. He is fluent -with a half-dozen languages, is literally a master of all sciences, -writes in a blinding, complicated style no one else on Earth could -imitate—much less create!—and has written as many books as Haggard, -Burroughs, and a few others combined. At 12 he wrote a novel; at 13, -printed a newspaper; and at 15, wrote novels for serialization in large -public papers.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Lester Anderson, fantastiac extra-ordinary of Hayward, California, is -fortunate enough to count himself a very good friend and correspondent -of the lexicographical (hah!) Clark Ashton Smith.</p> - -<p>Speaking of whom: Smith and H. P. Lovecraft are great friends, by -correspondence. Lovecraft refers to C.A.S. as "My good old friend and -correspondent, Klarkash-Ton, Hierophant of Atlantis and High-Priest of -Tsathoggua."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Again Bram Stoker! His latest to chance my way is "The Jewel of Seven -Stars." With every reading of this English weird-tale master, I am -seized in profound melancholia, despairing the fact that he did not -live another twenty years, to pen another score novels. Not content -with being a master of superb plot (involved plot too!) Stoker went to -exquisite pains to instill that ultra-weird and chilling sense of the -unreal so characteristic of his work.</p> - -<p>In "Jewel of the Seven Stars," he spins a yarn of Egyptian queens who -wield a strange and powerful influence over the lives of present-day -people; of mummified cats walking again and striking in the dark, -vampire-like; of hypnotic spells and influences; of developments -so utterly mystifying and gripping, the reader cannot put the book -down after once opening it. And Bram Stoker's novels are not the -abbreviated two-hundred page book so much in evidence today; they are -voluminous; though not, I might mention, as "infinite" as "Anthony -Adverse."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Here is something—not strictly fantasy, but certainly of interest to -all who make fantasy a hobby—which I have deemed worthy of passing -on: about twenty years ago there lived in Honolulu, in the much-sung -Hawaiian Islands, a man, W. D. Westervelt by name, who spent all his -spare time in the collecting of legends and myths about volcanoes. -Perhaps the best result of his efforts was a little book called -"Legends of Hawaiian Volcanoes," small but crammed to the fly-leaves -with fascinating historical, scientific, and mythological data. Others -had the titles of "Legends of Ghosts and Ghost-Gods," "Legends of Old -Honolulu," "Legends of Maui," etc. No, not true fantasy, but they -read like first-rate weird stories. Incidentally, this is a field for -stories practically untouched; tales built around Hawaiian and other -old native legends have been scarce.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Once, in those dear dead days when I first awakened to the call of -fantasy, I was seized with some strange outbreak of energy; and -typed two copies of Edmond Hamilton's first tale, "The Monster God -of Mamurth." The copies are still on had. Not faultless typing, but -readable. If anyone has not read this great little story by Hamilton, -I'll gladly send a copy to the first two fans writing me.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>The Slanting Shadow</h2> - -<h3>by August W. Derleth</h3> - - -<p>Mr. Abner Follansbee, investigator for the Society for Psychic -Research, stopped his car to peer out into the Wisconsin woods. To his -companion he said, "This is apparently the place, Fred. There's a sign -off to one side. Pretty well shot. 'Kroll's Inn'. Let's see that young -lady's letter again."</p> - -<p>Fred Tenny took a letter from his inner coat pocket and thrust it -toward Follansbee, who opened it and regarded the scrawled writing -dubiously.</p> - -<p>"Probably just another wild goose chase," he said presently. "Looks -to me more like a matter for the police. The girl's guardian, Uriah -Kroll, disappeared over a year ago—and since then his room has been -very strange. That's all it amounts to. I suppose the young lady thinks -she's got a ghost on her hands."</p> - -<p>The younger man smiled. "Something about a shadow, isn't there?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. 'There's a queer shadow on the bed in his room when the moon -shines,' she writes. 'I can't understand it. It shouldn't be there.' -That's all."</p> - -<p>"Very lucid," commented Tenny laconically.</p> - -<p>The inn itself was a quiet little house of stone, hugging the ground in -the middle of a clearing not very far from the heavily wooded roadside. -A flagstone walk led up to a low stone porch, where the key to the -front door lay under the mat, just where Miss Harriet Sears had said it -would be in her letter to Follansbee.</p> - -<p>As he bent to unlock the door, Follansbee said, "At least we can thank -goodness we're alone. Miss Sears isn't likely to come bursting in on us -at all hours of the night—she vowed she'd never set foot inside the -building until we'd settled that shadow business."</p> - -<p>He threw the door open on a short hallway leading directly into a -low, raftered sitting-room, into which Follansbee immediately strode, -followed by his companion. The room was comfortably and well furnished -with antique pieces. The chairs were curiously carved and obviously -hand-made. Follansbee, however, wasted no time in the sitting-room, but -led the way into another, smaller room, and around into a large bedroom -in the southeast corner of the building.</p> - -<p>This was the room which had been occupied by Uriah Kroll, prior to his -disappearance, as described in Miss Sears' letter. It was a large, -oddly furnished room, with a bed against the south wall, and a single -chair next to it, the north wall of the room next the door being -occupied by what appeared to be a work-bench. Follansbee, having looked -cursorily at the bed, went over to the bench and bent above it.</p> - -<p>Tenny came over and stood at his side.</p> - -<p>"What do you make of it?" Follansbee asked.</p> - -<p>"Queer outfit," Tenny replied. "Looks as if he might have been blowing -glass, doesn't it?"</p> - -<p>Follansbee bent and took up a book. "Well, look at this," he said in -surprise. "Arbatel's <i>Treatise on Magic</i>."</p> - -<p>"Yes," supplemented Tenny excitedly, "and see here—he's got a trident, -and incense, and oils—why, he dabbled in magic!"</p> - -<p>"No doubt of it," assented Follansbee gravely.</p> - -<p>He put the book down and examined the instruments on the bench. He -chuckled oddly to himself, held up a magical diagram made on a sheet of -stiff paper, and smiled at it with Tenny. Then he turned away, looked -once more about the room, and said, "If you brought the lunch kit, -we'll eat. The sun'll go down in about three-quarters of an hour, and -the moon'll be up shortly after. We might as well be ready."</p> - -<p>"What's the procedure?"</p> - -<p>"We sleep here—nice, comfortable double bed, as far as I can see," -replied Follansbee.</p> - -<p>Lunch eaten, the two investigators returned to the bedroom where they -were to sleep. The moon had already risen, so long had they sat in -the kitchen, but it was not yet throwing its light through the single -window to the south. Follansbee and Tenny sat talking for the better -part of an hour.</p> - -<p>It was the older man who first noticed that the moonlight had reached -the counterpane of the bed. "There we are," he said. "Now for the -shadow."</p> - -<p>They sat for a few minutes in silence, while the light of the moon -crept in a parallelogram across the counterpane. But there was no -shadow save the shadow of a tree, a few branches of which dipped into -the moonlight.</p> - -<p>Presently Follansbee rose and went in some irritation over to the bed -and stood looking down at the patch of moonlight. "Batty as can be," he -murmured, obviously referring to Miss Harriet Sears.</p> - -<p>Tenny, who had drifted to his side, said suddenly, "what a funny angle -those branches have!"</p> - -<p>Follansbee bent abruptly closer. "As if they were coming from above," -he murmured. "But look here—they're not just branches—they're like a -forest of little trees, and what odd spines for leaves!"</p> - -<p>Suddenly he whirled to the window. "Oh, now I see," he said harshly. -"<i>There's no tree of any kind beyond the window!</i>"</p> - -<p>"Nor anything to make that shadow," added Tenny.</p> - -<p>They stood for a few moments scrutinizing the glass and looking through -it into the clearing outside. The line of trees to the south was too -far for any shadow to reach the house; the trees were shadowed in an -uneven line across the clearing below. Then they returned to the bed -and stood looking down at the counterpane.</p> - -<p>"Well, there has to be some explanation," said Tenny.</p> - -<p>Follansbee nodded. "But I don't get it," he said. Then he stopped -abruptly, staring down at the parallelogram of moonlight widening eyes.</p> - -<p>Tenny followed the older man's startled gaze.</p> - -<p>There, in the moonlight, was a tiny, moving shadow—a shadow only -slightly over two inches in height, moving with incredible rapidity, -yet achieving no distance in the parallelogram of moonlight—the figure -of a man!</p> - -<p>Back and forth it ran within a space so small that it might have been -covered by the extended palm of a hand. The two men stared in growing -amazement. Then Follansbee turned to the window again. But there was -nothing there—nothing on the glass, nothing against the glass outside, -nothing flying against the moonlight in the sky.</p> - -<p>He turned back to the bed. The shadow was still there. He bent, peering -intently. The incredible shadow was running wildly, this way and that, -its tiny arms outflung, its spindle-legs moving rapidly upon the -counterpane, a thing alive, yet without substance.</p> - -<p>"Good God," muttered Tenny at last. "It's a man—it's a live man. But -where is he?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," Follansbee jerked out.</p> - -<p>He stood for a few moments more, his fascination for the unbelievable -shadow holding him there; then he swung away and went over to the -work-bench, where he lit a lamp and began to thumb swiftly through a -group of the old books lying carelessly abandoned there.</p> - -<p>Tenny followed, asking, "Can I help?"</p> - -<p>The older man nodded. "Check up on all references to magical designs in -these books," he said. "I've got an idea. I don't know what's in it, -but it's worth trying."</p> - -<p>It was Follansbee who found what they sought. "Here it is," he said -suddenly. "Magical designs on glass. It's been marked up by someone, -too—Kroll, most likely. Parts of it are illegible, but the sense of it -can be made out. Third paragraph down in the second column."</p> - -<p>Tenny bent to read the printed lines on the yellow page:</p> - -<p>"Certain mages have brought into being worlds of glass—invisible in -glass, the objects of such consistency that though they cannot be seen -in the light of the sun, they are shadowed by the moon.... The glass is -of no ordinary kind, but must be specially made. And the creatures to -be placed there may be drawn from the mind or from life."</p> - -<p>"You see?" cut in Follansbee, drawing the book away. "That's what -he was doing—but something happened. He tried it on himself, and -vanished."</p> - -<p>Tenny turned astonished eyes on the glass in the window.</p> - -<p>Follansbee abruptly left the work-bench and, going over to the window, -raised it. "It's the upper pane we want," he murmured. "It must be -broken—there's no other way. But be careful that all the pieces fall -into the room."</p> - -<p>As he spoke, the older man pulled down the upper half of the window. -Then he drew the curtain down outside the glass, and into the room -again below.</p> - -<p>"All right," he said. "Break it, Fred."</p> - -<p>Tenny rapped sharply against the glass of the upper pane. It did not -break. He struck it harder with the trident from the work-bench. Still -it did not break. Then he smashed into it with all his strength. The -glass broke into incredibly small fragments that slithered down the -drawn curtain to the floor.</p> - -<p>Follansbee let the curtain snap up. Looking down, he and Tenny -exclaimed simultaneously. The window lay in silver fragments on the -carpet in the moonlight that stretched to the bed—but beyond the -fragments ran a tiny dark shadow, of substance now.</p> - -<p>"Good God!" breathed Follansbee hoarsely. "<i>The dimensions didn't -change!</i>"</p> - -<p>"It's Kroll," said Tenny. He swooped to seize hold of the figure on the -carpet, but at that moment it disappeared under the bed. He sank to his -knees. "Kroll!" he shouted. "Come out, Kroll!"</p> - -<p>There was a vague scuttering noise beneath the bed.</p> - -<p>Follansbee came to his knees at Tenny's side and peered into the -moonlit dusk beneath the bed. "Kroll" he whispered softly. Turning -abruptly, he said to Tenny, "Get over on the other side. He's skirting -the wall toward the door."</p> - -<p>Tenny moved to obey.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly there came a quick rustle, a dark shadow launched itself -from the wall upon the two-inch figure that crept toward the door, -there was a shrill squeal, a tiny human scream, and abrupt, unnatural -silence.</p> - -<p>"<i>A rat</i>," whispered Follansbee shakily. "<i>My God!</i>"</p> - -<p>He got up unsteadily and looked down at the bed. The moonlight lay -unbroken on the counterpane.</p> - -<p class="ph1">The End</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>KARLOFF'S MONSTER<br /> -by Forrest J. Ackerman</h3> - - -<p>An interview of extreme interest to fantasy film fans was that of Boris -Karloff with Jimmie Fidler over the air on the "Hollywood on the Air" -program earlier in the year. Karloff spoke: "I shall create a Monster -like Frankenstein's. No brain—just a huge creature which shall guard -against reporters and interviewers. Connect the electrodes!" A snap. -"Throw the switches!" A crackling of electricity. And Karloff, crying: -"It lives ... it moves! ... it lives.... Karloff's monster LIVES!" Then -the Monster spoke—with the voice of Jimmie Fidler, the interviewer. -"Alas"—Karloff was in despair; "I <i>have</i> created a Frankenstein -monster: it's a fan magazine writer!" And Jimmie Fidler then proceeded -to question him. Proving himself to be anything but one of the many -monsters he has portrayed, William Henry Pratt (known on the screen -as the man from Karloffornia who is sure to never Boris) stated in a -private word addressed to his admirers that he greatly appreciated all -their letters, and that he was always grateful for criticism received -of his work.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His next pictures will be "Frankenstein Lives Again!" "A Trip to Mars," -"The Werewolf of London," and "The Raven."</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>The Legacy</h2> - -<h3>by Kenneth B. Pritchard</h3> - - -<p>My friend, Frederick Brown, and I are lawyers. Lawyers often come up -against strange cases; but the case that Brown had a while ago, was the -oddest and by far the most weird I have ever heard of.</p> - -<p>Brown and I were lunching together one noon, when the subject was -broached of the peculiar things that one sometimes meets up with.</p> - -<p>"James," said Fred, "You never had anything happen to you that can -compare with a certain case of mine; I'll wager on it."</p> - -<p>"Shoot," I said. "Let's have an earful. What's it all about?"</p> - -<p>"I had a legacy," he began without hesitation, "a few weeks ago, -that was void to all concerned unless it was signed by one man. All -others involved had attached their signatures to the documents. But, -Ogleman's—that was his name—was missing."</p> - -<p>"You mean the Ogleman that died a short time ago?" I broke in.</p> - -<p>"The same," Brown admonished. "I must hasten to add," he went on, "that -a time limit was set, on this certain day, in which the signatures must -be obtained. Ogleman was not in town.</p> - -<p>"The final limit was set for 8 P. M. For days, before the last one -arrived, my client had me sending out feelers in all directions trying -to contact this one man. The evening before the final day, I at last -got in touch with him, and he promised to come without delay. He wired -back that he would leave in the morning as he was situated in a place -where transportation facilities were not the best. All I could do then, -was wait.</p> - -<p>"Ten o'clock the next morning I received a telegram. Ogleman had been -struck by a speeding auto. But as I read further, I realized that the -man would arrive anyway. His condition I did not know, as the message -had imparted no more than the two facts I've already given.</p> - -<p>"It was half past seven that evening that the missing man showed up at -my client's home. He was quite a sight, I can assure you."</p> - -<p>My friend paused as though to reflect upon the unusual scene. His eyes -widened for a moment in sudden horror, and then he continued in his -regular manner.</p> - -<p>"I found myself looking at him as I shook his one good hand. The other -arm was in a sling that had been hastily made. His head had a bandage -around it, and his face was white; almost the color of several patches -adhering to it.</p> - -<p>"My client shook hands with him also. 'Glad you came, Ogleman,' he -said, 'Everything depends on you, you know.'</p> - -<p>"'Yes,' said Ogleman as he relinquished his hand, 'I know that the -legacy must be signed.'</p> - -<p>"His voice seemed strangely hollow and unnatural, and there was an -unreal appearance about the man.</p> - -<p>"He turned to me. I shuddered somewhat at the bits of blood that had -caked on the bandages. 'We must hurry,' he said, 'The time is short. -Have you the papers ready?' he asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>"'Yes,' I replied, 'everything is ready. Come over to the table with -me. There is a chair there, and you can sit down and sign.'</p> - -<p>"I felt that he would collapse if he did not be seated soon.</p> - -<p>"I handed him the pen, and gave him the papers, showing him where to -sign. Being hurt as he was, it was very difficult for him to write. -However, he managed to scrawl his name on the last sheet. All was -legal, then.</p> - -<p>"I took the pen from his hand and said, 'Now it is done. There won't be -any more trouble over it.' I somehow forced a smile.</p> - -<p>"My client beamed approvingly. But Ogleman never stirred. I looked -at him. He pitched forward on the table. I was greatly alarmed and -hastened my client to summon a doctor.</p> - -<p>"Ogleman was dead!"</p> - -<p>"I've heard of tales like that before," I remarked dryly.</p> - -<p>"Maybe," rejoined Brown, "But the doctor said that Ogleman had been -dead for ten hours!"</p> - -<p class="ph1">The End</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>WITHIN THE CIRCLE<br /> -by F. Lee Baldwin</h3> - -<p>A. Merritt is contemplating a sequel to "Thru the Dragon Glass."</p> - -<p>Robert Bloch recently sold his second story to WT. Title: "The Feast in -the Abbey."</p> - -<p>H. P. Lovecraft is working on a tale called "The Shadow Out of Time."</p> - -<p>Adolph de Castro, author of "The Last Test" and "The Electric -Executioner," is 74 years old, a graduate of Bonn, and master of 7 -languages. He has had published work of undoubted importance. Some of -his unpublished books are of great potential interest and value.... -He lived in Mexico from 1922 to 1925 and had interviews with Villa -and his generals in 1923; from whom he derived an account of the -end of his associate and colleague Ambrose Bierce at the hand of -these revolutionists. There are three slightly differing reports as -to Bierce's death, all of which are probably carelessly transmitted -variants of the actual facts. De Castro's original name is Gustav -Adolf Danziger—he changed it during the World War, taking the name -of a remote Spanish ancestor. He came to America in 1886 and was a -dentist for a long period. Also pursued politics to some extent and was -American consul at Madrid for a time. The piece of work he did with -Bierce was translating the German novel of Richard Voss—"The Monk and -the Hangman's Daughter." He was German-speaking and (1889) was not -fluent in English. Bierce, on the other hand, was a master of English -but knew no German. De Castro—or Danziger—admired the Voss novel and -made a rough translation, with certain modifications, into such English -as he knew. Then Bierce took that crude translation and made the -present admirable English novelette out of it. The book as it stands is -a curious three-man job. It is not a weird tale.</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>The Mirror</h2> - -<p class="ph1">(Annals of the Jinns—9)</p> - -<h3>by R. H. Barlow</h3> - - -<p>Upon a certain day in the year of the Plague of Dragons, the Emperor -of Yondath held court in his ancient palace above the crypts. Many of -his subjects had come from sheer curiosity, and when he cast sentence -upon Khalda, at least two of the more squeamish shuddered. For he had -condemned the sorcerer Khalda to the tortures of the Green Fungi, and -of course every one knew what meant. Even if they had been obtuse or -ignorant of the ways of the torturers in the subterranean rooms, the -austere and saturnine look upon the face of His Majesty would have -implied much that was not pleasant.</p> - -<p>But Khalda, the only pupil of the wise one Volnar, stood scornfully -before the throne and gave no sign of terror, although his doom was -a fabled and terrible one. He even contrived an ironic obeisance -before they took him away. The two ugly slaves that held him exchanged -significant looks as they silently led him out of the gorgeously-hung -room. Then those who had gathered began to depart, and many resolved -not to anger their ruler after that.</p> - -<p>Khalda's crime, it had been proclaimed, was that of high sacrilege. -Not only had he sought through ancient and unwholesome magic the -creation of artificial life, but he had spat upon the greenstone feet -of the great idol in the market place, and asserted that the deity was -impotent and its priests humbug. Perhaps this iconoclastic behavior -was regretted by Khalda, since his destination was not pleasant to -contemplate, but he gave no sign as the slaves led him through a series -of connected chambers. Each of these dimly-lit rooms was more ancient -in appearance than the one preceding, and after he had traversed some -dozen, the very bricks of the wall were so slimy with old moss that -they emitted a noxious odour. Likewise the passages grew steadily -darker.</p> - -<p>Legend told of the things that lay beneath the palace, and of the Head -Torturer Malyat that had dwelt in his crypt for untold years without -being seen by man. It was said that his face was obscured from even his -victims, by an ancient and grotesque mask. On this Khalda reflected as -the guards paused to light their tapers at a sconce tipped by a pool -of sulphurous flame that seethed and boiled endlessly. He wondered at -this, for no tracks disturbed the settled dust, yet the torch was as -if newly kindled. Guided now by this melancholy light, they descended -again, their torch but little dispelling the gloom. In this manner they -made their way toward the lower chambers. Khalda wondered at the labor -that must have gone into chiseling these chambers from the rock, and at -the ponderous ornamental masonry that remained yet immovable after so -long a time.</p> - -<p>At length they came to an ultimate passage fronting a huge door of iron -curiously decorated and covered with the patina of aeons. This appeared -most formidable to the prisoner. It was upon this ancient portal that -the guards smote with their clanging brazen swords and then retired, -leaving Khalda alone. He wondered what evil thing would appear as he -saw the door slowly opening.</p> - -<p>Then, in a terrible silence that his shrieks did not wholly dispel, a -metal projection not unlike a tentacle rhythmically emerged, swayed a -moment, and wrapped itself about him.</p> - -<p>And he was drawn into the chamber of Malyat.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Four cycles of the crimson moon elapsed before rumours found their way -to the ears of the emperor. A tale was told of the last creation of the -sorcerer, a masterpiece of malign sorcery, that had escaped destruction -by the zealots of the greenstone god.</p> - -<p>It was said that all the work of Khalda was evil, but that this last -creation was supreme. Even unto his last days he had labored and -expended his talents upon a certain mirror of strange design. No man -knew the purpose for which it was shapen; but it was certain that -Khalda had not constructed it for the dubious vanity of reflecting -his withered visage. The polished glass in it had come from the -subterranean artizans of Saaldae, and it was polished and silvered -by devious means. And the frame was of ebony strangely wrought with a -monstrous carving. Great skill had gone into this, yet none knew its -precise whereabouts, and the tales could find no definite origin.</p> - -<p>So the Emperor had scrolls lettered in the hieroglyphs of the land, and -these were posted about the capitol and all the outlying provinces. -And they said that any man that could produce this mirror would have a -reward bestowed upon him.</p> - -<p>At first there came many with false claims, but a supplementary -proclamation was issued, to the effect that imposters would be -painfully disposed of, and thereafter the ruler was little annoyed.</p> - -<p>But in time there came an ancient one, unbelievably filthy, and clad -in garments of odorous antiquity. His face was hideously wrinkled, -yet it held a certain inscrutable wisdom. This repulsive being came -unto the palace gates and demanded entrance. And the guards at first -laughed, and then grew angry, and would have run him through with their -long lances, had not the Emperor intervened and called upon his men -to desist. For he had heard the commotion and became curious. Thus -admittance was granted to the beggarly person, and he entered as if he -had expected this from the start.</p> - -<p>In dignity he went, and bowed before the throne, strangely incongruous -amid the richly clad servants that shrank from him in repugnance. The -Emperor's dwarf sought to make mock of the foul being, and rolled -completely off his cushion in gales of false amusement; but he saw the -eyes of the stranger and straightway climbed back, mumbling in a surly -tone to himself.</p> - -<p>The Emperor bade him state his mission, and the old one spoke in a -manner remarkable for one so uncouth, saying, "I have brought the -object you desire."</p> - -<p>With great interest, the Emperor bade him display it, but the old one -refused, stating in tones of certainty that he wished to make a few -observations first.</p> - -<p>"I might press my claim," observed the Emperor, somewhat amused by this -effrontery.</p> - -<p>"I believe I have likewise the right of naming my price," suggested the -old man.</p> - -<p>"Truly," assented his majesty, "but first tell me, what is this mirror?"</p> - -<p>"It is the mirror of Truth," was the reply.</p> - -<p>"A pretty allegory," remarked the Monarch, and settled back.</p> - -<p>So it was, the unclean person spoke freely in the court of the ruler.</p> - -<p>"You will recall that this mirror was constructed by a certain -sorcerer," he began in an unpleasant tone. "And you will also recall -that this sorcerer did you a great service once ... did he not, -Majesty?"</p> - -<p>The Emperor looked startled, and then very grave.</p> - -<p>"He did ... but how came you to know of this?"</p> - -<p>"I shall elucidate when the time has come. Likewise, did you promise -certain things to this sorcerer in return for his labors?"</p> - -<p>The Emperor's eyes smoldered with secret fury, but he said nothing.</p> - -<p>"This you ignored, and some moons agone had the wonderworker—I believe -he was referred to as a blasphemer in the sentencing—this man you had -brought before you and sent to the terrible tortures of Malyat. Am I -not correct?"</p> - -<p>"That is common knowledge," asserted the ruler, uneasily.</p> - -<p>"And he was taken to his doom?"</p> - -<p>"My slaves seldom fail me."</p> - -<p>"I am grateful to your majesty, for truth was essential. I have the -mirror here," said the old one, abruptly.</p> - -<p>"What wish you in return?"</p> - -<p>"It is yours—my payment will be given me in due time."</p> - -<p>And as the Emperor leaned forward, the man announced his identity and -drew back his tattered robe, revealing the horror that lay beneath.</p> - -<p>Then as the Emperor gazed in fascinated repulsion, Khalda drew forth -the mirror, with its strangely shapen handle, and held it up that all -might see.</p> - -<p>And when the ruler looked therein, no man may know what was reflected, -for a strange and terrible thing occurred. Some dire magic was at work, -for the doom that came unto his majesty was alien to all accepted lines -of death.</p> - -<p class="ph1">The End</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>The Little Old Lady</h2> - -<h3>by P. J. Searles</h3> - - -<p>Connors was genuinely puzzled. What had happened to the old lady? -Surely she could not have fallen from the car. On the other hand why -should she have left before reaching her destination and how could she -have got out without his notice? Her disappearance was perplexing.</p> - -<p>He had first seen the old lady when he had stopped to admire the -picturesque church on the outskirts of Huntsville. Wearing an old -fashioned, rather shabby, taffeta dress ornamented at the throat -and wrists with bits of yellowed lace, a bonnet that proclaimed her -adherence to the fashions of 1880; and with a sole jet pendant hanging -from her neck, she was standing near the car as Connors came out of the -church and strolled through the adjoining grave yard reading quaint -inscriptions on the tombstones. Her manner was forlorn and pathetic -as she edged timidly up to Connors to ask in a low voice if he were -driving on to Milltown. When Connors replied in the affirmative the old -lady hesitantly mumbled that she had not seen her daughter in Milltown -for five years and could she ride into the city with him.</p> - -<p>Since the front seat was loaded with bundles Connors had placed the old -lady in the rear and driven on. Some twenty miles had been traversed -and the outskirts of Milltown reached when Connors discovered he was -out of cigarettes. Stopping the car at a corner drugstore he went -in to buy his favorite brand. Once inside he recalled the old lady's -presence and, stepping out again, asked if she would like an ice cream -soda. Her pleasure and gratitude seemed all out of proportion to the -offer until she said she had not tasted ice cream for over five years.</p> - -<p>When they were ready to drive on again Connors asked the old lady -where she wanted to be taken. At first she was certain she could walk -the rest of the way but finally agreed with Connors' insistence that -he could easily drive her to the daughter's home which she had never -visited. Number 17 Portland street was the address she gave, an address -that took Connors far out of his normal route into an unfamiliar -section of the city. After perhaps fifteen minutes of driving he -reached Portland street and stopped the car at a corner to inquire -directions for number 17. The first person he asked pointed to a house -four doors from the corner.</p> - -<p>It was at this moment that Connors turned around and discovered the old -lady was missing.</p> - -<p>Her disappearance was puzzling. It seemed unbelievable that she could -have left the car without being noticed by Connors, or that she would -have left without so much as "Thank you," but the fact remained that -she was gone. Connors jumped out of his seat, looked up and down the -street, glanced behind the car, peered into the corner there was no -sight of the old lady.</p> - -<p>Connors was both perplexed and irritated. After a moment's indecision -he stepped across to number 17 and rang the bell. His summons was -answered by a pleasant looking, young woman.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me," said Connors, "I am afraid I don't know your name, but are -you expecting your mother today?"</p> - -<p>"My mother," replied the woman with a gasp, "why—why, what do you -mean?"</p> - -<p>"A nice old lady in Huntsville this morning asked me to drive her to -17 Portland street to visit her daughter whom she hadn't seen for five -years. I brought her into town but when I stopped at the corner there -to inquire the way I found she was no longer in the car. So I came on -here to ask if she had already arrived."</p> - -<p>"What did she look like?"</p> - -<p>"A sweet old lady, short and slender, snow white hair, pale thin -cheeks, wearing an old fashioned taffeta dress with yellowed lace and a -jet necklace. Is that your mother?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, that is my mother but she died in Huntsville five years ago -today."</p> - -<p class="ph1">The End</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="ph1">Good-bye, Friends</p> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h3>ADVERTISEMENTS</h3> - -<p>CLARK ASHTON SMITH presents THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES—a -booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric -tales—stories of exotic beauty, horror, terror, strangeness, irony and -satire. Price: 25 cents each (coin or stamps). Also a small remainder -of EBONY AND CRYSTAL—a book of prose-poems published at $2.00, reduced -to $1.00 per copy. Everything sent postpaid. Clark Ashton Smith, -Auburn, California.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>WEIRD TALES 1924-25-26-27 and Ghost Stories. Have several incomplete -issues W. T. 1927-28-29 to sell at 10 cts each, also some 1931-32 -covers and five issues TFF. Joseph Robinsky, 241 Lincoln Ave., -Elizabeth, N. J.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="ph1">FANTASY MAGAZINE<br /> -expresses its sincerest regrets that<br /> -THE FANTASY FAN<br /> -can no longer continue.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>If you have not yet read FM, try it now, for in the April issue, which -is dedicated to <i>Weird Tales</i>, the following outstanding features -appear:</p> - -<p class="ph1">"Nymph of Darkness"<br /> -by C. L. Moore</p> - -<p class="ph1">A new "Northwest" Smith story,<br /> -illustrated by Miss Moore</p> - -<p class="ph1">H. P. Lovecraft, a biography<br /> -by F. Lee Baldwin</p> - -<p>also articles by Farnsworth Wright, Seabury Quinn, and others.</p> - -<p>FM features many articles and poems by such foremost authors as Clark -Ashton Smith, A. Merritt, Francis Flagg, and H. P. Lovecraft regularly.</p> - -<p>10 cts a copy, 25 cts for 3 months</p> - -<p class="ph1">Science Fiction Digest Company<br /> -87-36—162nd St., Jamaica, N. Y.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FANTASY FAN, VOLUME 2, NUMBER 6, FEBRUARY 1935 ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ -concept and trademark. 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