THE EYRIE
EVERYBODY, it seems, enjoys a weird tale—or almost everybody. At any rate, it is not a matter of schooling, or literary cultivation, or position in life, or peculiarity of mind.
Nor yet is it a matter of age. Old or young, people like such stories. It's a deep-rooted liking, as old as life itself.
We are persuaded to utter these commonplace thoughts by four or five letters to the Editor, now lying before us. These letters indicate that a man of eighty can be as pleasurably thrilled by weird fiction as a girl of eleven or a boy of fourteen.
Let us, f'r'instance, examine this epistle from Ernest Hollenbeck of Davison, Michigan:
"Howdy, Son!" (says he). "Beautiful morning. California has nothing on old Michigan this lovely day. Davison is a charming rural village this week—attractive to look upon. . . .
"Yesterday being a holiday, and my seventy-seventh birthday as well, I amused myself by writing the enclosed short story, 'A Cruel Mystery.' Finished at 12 noon. I was seventy-seven at 11 a. m. Copied it, finishing at 4.45 p. m. Almost no changes from first sketch. That isn't such a rotten stunt for a kid almost four-score—not from my angle at least.
"I'm alone in the world, absolutely. Do my own housework. Make a living by hard manual knocks. Pay rent. Fight ill health. Keep tab on the old lads who are deserting to the Great Enemy. A lot of them this spring. Day before yesterday I attended the funeral of the last of my teachers, so far as I know. We were close friends all those years. I miss him sadly.
"I do so wish you to read carefully, critically and kindly the story that I wrote for you especially on my seventy-seventh birthday, finished at my natal hour. It has some unusual situations, I assure you. I am conceited enough to think that you have few stories that match this one in the unusual."
And now let us consider the next one, which comes from Eleanor Gause of 451 Melrose Street, Chicago:
"Dear Mr. Spook Baird: I am a new member of the WEIRD TALES family. Imagine an eleven-year-old girl reading stories like yours! My mother has been wondering why, day after day, I'm so good. I'll tell you why—I'm afraid the spooks will get me!
"I must give my criticism of your stories. The spookiest were 'The Evening Wolves,' 'Osiris,' 'The Moon Terror,' 'The Gray Death,' which had me all upset, and 'The Invisible Terror' and 'The Madman,' Burrr! They were all so spooky!
"The first copy I got was April's, then May's, and then June's, and I can hardly wait for July's. I was very upset about 'The Whispering Thing,' but it disappointed me at the end. I'm so sorry.
"Well, Mr. Baird, if I don't stop writing about WEIRD TALES I will go into hysterics. But I promise to read it every month.
"P. S. I'm a writer by birth, so I'm bound to write a mystery story for your magazine. . . . Please write soon to an anxious little girl, eleven years and eight months, born October 15, 1911."
And in between those two extremes we have letters here from readers of almost every age and from almost every walk in life—all of which, we think, helps to establish our point that EVERYBODY likes a weird tale.
On the chance that somebody, besides ourselves, may be interested in what the youngsters think of WEIRD TALES, we submit two more juvenile letters:
"Dear Mr. Baird: I am a boy fourteen years old, and I like WEIRD TALES very much. I was delighted when I saw the first issue of your magazine at my newsdealer's, and I am sure that your magazine will succeed. Like 'H. W.' of Sterling, Ill., I like stories of this kind.
"In the April issue I liked 'The Parlor Cemetery,' "The Hall of the Dead,' and 'The Conquering Will.' In fact, all were good. I like 'spooky' stories, and I hope you will have more of them in the future.
"If 'H. W.' sues your magazine for the condition of his eyes I'll pay the damages."-Richard Jenkins, 1018 Fourth Street, North Catasauqua, Pa.
"Gentlemen: I have read both issues of WEIRD TALES, and both my mother and I like it very well, and will continue to buy it as long as it is published."—Jack Bohn, eleven years of age, Alexander Hamilton High School, Oakland, Cal.
We have several more such letters from boys and girls in their 'teens, but we'll put these aside for the moment and turn to those from the "grown-ups."
HERE'S a radiant burst of words from A. L. Mattison of Dallas, Texas, that may (or may not) interest you:
"EUREKA!
"'Why the exclamation?' you ask.
"That was the animated expression of Ponce de Leon and his followers when they set foot on the shore of a new world: 'Eureka! We have found it!'
"Hence, I repeat: 'Eureka! I have found it!'
"'Found what?' you may question again.
"Why, I've found WEIRD TALES, the magazine I have heretofore looked for in vain. A magazine of abundance and variety. I have just read Vol. 1, No. 1, and must express my feelings. I have just risen from & festal board, my hunger satisfied, for I found so many and such a variety of dishes from which to select appetising food.
"I did not relish all the dishes on WEIRD TALES' well-spread table, but I have no kick coming. No doubt other feasters enjoyed those dishes which I passed up, while devouring with relish those not appealing to their taste. This is a populous world, filled with people whose tastes are as various as the hues of the rainbow. All must be fed. And when they sit at WEIRD TALES' bounteous board all may find that which their mental
