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THE FANTASY FAN

THE FANS' OWN MAGAZINE

~Editor~: Charles D. Hornig
(Managing Editor: Wonder Stories)

Published                     10 cents a copy
Monthly                       $1.00 per year

137 West Grand Street, Elizabeth, New Jersey

Volume 1      October, 1933      Number 2




EDITORIAL


You will note several improvements in this issue of THE FANTASY FAN
over the first number. The most noticeable one, of course, is the fact
that there are almost twice as many pages as in the September copy.
But our improvements do not end there--not by a long shot. Not only
has the circulation been doubled, but we have a new policy. Starting
with this issue, we will present a story every month (maybe more than
one) by Clark Ashton Smith, H. P. Lovecraft, August W. Derleth, and
other top-notchers in the field of weird fiction. You science-fiction
fans are probably wondering by the import of the last sentence why we
will not print science-fiction. Well, here's the reason. In the
SCIENCE FICTION DIGEST we have a fan magazine for those
scientifictionally inclined, which also presents gems of this type
story by Arthur J. Burks, Ray Palmer, and others. We feel that the
weird fans should also have a magazine for themselves--hence THE
FANTASY FAN. But don't get discouraged, you science-fiction guzzlers,
we have dozens of excellent articles composed just for you. Although
THE FANTASY FAN will present no science-fiction stories, we certainly
will continue to give absorbing columns, articles and departments that
will make each issue well worth a dime to you. You won't want to miss
the rest of Schwartz's "How to Collect Fantasy Fiction," or Ackerman's
story of his A-1 collection, or the Club News or the Famous Fans
department, or the Boiling Point, or Science Fiction in English
Magazines by Tucker, or the super-excellent material we have on hand
besides--dozens of articles of humor, satire, information, absorbing
interest--the type of article that only the science fiction fan can
derive full enjoyment from. So, while THE FANTASY FAN will lean toward
the weird angle, it will be worth the while of every science fiction
fan to continue to be a reader. Furthermore--through years of
experience (well, a month, anyway), we have learned that a great many
weird fans--we could almost say a majority--are also readers of
science fiction and vice versa. After all, both science fiction and
weird tales are fantastic, aren't they? They both are based on the
highly improbable, and they both stimulate the imagination. It is a
rare fan that does not like both. The scientifically inclined reader
may not like weird tales; those that only want to be horrified and
terrorized may not like science fiction; but those who want their
imaginations stimulated like both.

Let us remind you again, and inform the new readers, that this is
primarily a magazine for the fans, of the fans, and by the fans--the
fan, the whole fan, and nothing but the fan. (We hope that by this
time you realize that we publish a FAN magazine). But all foolishness
aside, we want you to run the magazine. Tell us what you like and what
you don't like. As many letters as possible will be published in "Our
Readers Say" department. We will always abide by the wishes of the
majority, and very often act upon the opinions of a single reader--try
out his ideas to see how the rest of the readers like them. Make
believe that you are an associate editor--criticize us "to the hairy
limit"--or tell us how good you think we are (we are not modest). If
you feel as though you have the ability to compose suitable articles
for publication in THE FANTASY FAN, send them in for our
consideration, and if we find them acceptable, you will be paid for
them in copies of THE FANTASY FAN--in cash as soon as possible. THE
FANTASY FAN is still running on a deficit. Subscribe now, if you have
not already done so, and insure yourself of a bigger and better
magazine in the future.

The following departments: "This Month's Cash Contest"--"Penpals
Wanted"--and the Questionnaire have been discontinued because of lack
of support and enthusiasm on the part of our readers. The
"Conglamitorial," and "About Authors" and similar departments may be
left out once in awhile to make place for material of greater merit.

The feature of next month's issue will be "The Other Gods," by H. P.
Lovecraft--a picturesque and weird story well up to the standard of
Lovecraft's best, and far surpassing the general run of weird tale. We
are extremely fortunate in being able to secure such stories. The
November issue will also contain a poem by Clark Ashton Smith, the
continuation of all continued in this issue (including another one of
the "Annals of the Jinns" and will present many new and interesting
features.

Yours for spreading the gospel of weird and science fiction.

The Editor




OUR READERS SAY


"I have read the first issue of 'The Fantasy Fan' with much interest.
Good work! I like your departments, and hope you will be able to
expand them, particularly those devoted to information about fantastic
stories.

"'The Boiling Point' is going to be a great department. I was
interested by the article on 'Science Fiction in English Magazines' by
Bob Tucker. I predict that 'The Fantasy Fan' will be a success. With
all best wishes"--Clark Ashton Smith

"Vol. 1, No. 1, looks to me very much what the younger science fiction
devotee wants. Later on it might be a good idea to use matter of
interest to weird tales enthusiasts--articles on the classics of weird
literature, and information concerning weird magazines."--H. P.
Lovecraft

We'll wager Mr. Lovecraft is well satisfied with this issue. It
includes everything he asked for and then some. It is no longer for
the "younger science fiction enthusiast," but for all lovers of the
fantastic.

"I received the first issue of 'The Fantasy Fan' this morning and was
indeed pleased with it."--August W. Derleth

"I recently received the first issue of 'The Fantasy Fan' and I want
to congratulate you on your initial number. If future issues live up
to the promise of the first one, you have nothing to fear. Your
venture should be a successful one.

"Being essentially a collector, I enjoyed the articles 'How to Collect
Fantasy Fiction' and 'Science Fiction in English Magazines.' I hope
Mr. Tucker will be a more or less constant contributor to 'The Fantasy
Fan' with information regarding stories in the English magazines.

"I have only one fault to find with the first number of 'The Fantasy
Fan' and that's Forrest J. Ackerman. Can't you get along without him?
Isn't it bad enough to find his letters appearing in all of the other
magazines without having to endure more of him in 'The Fantasy Fan?'
Maybe he is the most active science fiction fan, but I wish he would
confine his activities to California. If you simply have to have him,
please keep his outbursts to a minimum. I wonder if the 'World's most
active science fiction fan;' 'The demon letter writer' realizes how
tiresome and boring his continual out-pourings may become.

"Once more permit me to congratulate you on your efforts. I am looking
forward with considerable interest to future issues. With best
luck."--H. Koenig

You will be pleased to hear that Mr. Tucker has promised us a column
on English science fiction every month. The second in the series
appear in this issue.

Of course, we cannot take sides with you as to whether Mr. Ackerman's
'outbursts' are boring. That is for the readers to decide. Yours is
the first unfavorable comment we have had upon Mr. Ackerman's efforts,
and we feel that the majority of the readers enjoy his articles.

"Your first issue certainly satisfies! Like Chesterfields, huh? Of
course, I don't know--I don't smoke. But I've just read TFF thru, and
it's a dandy first number.

"A real good idea, that, of reprinting the article about author
Kostkos from the paper. He sounds a real stf'ist.

"If you want to know, I think that 'Science Fiction Alphabet' poem by
Allen Glasser is great. I got a laugh out of every letter, and am
interested in seeing what happens from N to Z. Also, I greatly enjoyed
his 'Earthling Spurns Martian,' newspaper-of-the-future account--but
Efjay Akkamin for the terrestrial! From Ockermann to McKerman
misspellings have ranged (and, yes, someone even addressed me Mr.
Staples, once), but really----"--Forrest J. Ackerman

"I enjoyed the first issue of 'The Fantasy Fan' very much, your
features and news items were well chosen and well written. There is
little room for improvement, just more pages, better paper, and
stories, which will come in time."--Philip Bridges

Mr. Bridges' wishes have also come true.

"Just what I think of TFF:--every single word in it is GOOD--I can't
find a solitary thing to kick about. Its perfect. Superb. I'm sure
glad I'm a subscriber."--Ted Lutwin

No, readers, this is not a paid testimonial. Of course, we know the
magazine is far from perfect or superb, but we are pleased to see that
the greater part of our readers were not disappointed in it.

"Congrats on the first of the 'Fan,' it's darn good. The stf alphabet
is swell. Tucker's article and 'Club News' are good as are the
columns. Am eagerly awaiting No. 2 issue. 'The Fantasy Fan' is filling
a long-felt need and I expect it to grow and prosper. Bon
voyage."--Daniel McPhail

"Got my first issue of TFF other day. Best articles were 'Science
Fiction Alphabet,' 'About Authors,' and 'Conglamitorial.' I thought
the whole magazine was excellent."--J. Sam Smart

"'Earthling Spurns Martian' almost sent me into a fit. 'Tis a good
little mag. I hope you enlarge the size later."--David Stolaroff

"Received my copy of your magazine and liked it swell. Just what I've
been looking for! Your promise of some more new Clark Ashton Smith
stories make it even more enticing. Good luck to you!"--Duane W. Rimel

Well, fans, just to show you that the above has not gone to our head,
read what someone else says:

"At present, 'The Fantasy Fan' isn't worth the time it takes, to read
it or the ink to print it. And same can be said about all the Science
Fiction 'fan' magazines."--B. K. Goree, Jr.

Mr. Goree forgot to mention that "The Fantasy Fan" isn't worth the
paper it's printed on. Ink is very cheap.

"The first issue is really good, but I think a great many improvements
can be made. I would suggest that you use a stiff cover of some heavy
paper, with a table of contents either on the front cover, as in the
'Science Fiction Digest,' or on the inside of the front cover. A
better grade of paper should prove of advantage. Leave the size the
way it is.

"Now for the articles themselves. These were all good, especially
Julius Schwartz's on the collection of science fiction, Science
Fiction in English Magazines and Sequels by Popular Demand. I do not
care an awful lot for Mr. Smith's stories, but have read some dandies
by him. Some of his stories are a good cure for sleeping sickness, I
agree with Mr. Ackerman on some points in The Boiling Point, but on
others--aw, phooie, Mr. Ackerman! Because I just half agree with him,
I think I will stay neutral in the controversy. Best wishes to you in
your new venture. I hope you double your circulation in a few
months."--Oswald Train

We have made several of the improvements you mention, and will make
others in good time. Do you want a contents page, fans, or would you
rather have the space used for some interesting article? Give us your
opinions on the current issue, and tell us your likes and dislikes. We
want to hear from you.

The Editor




ARGOSY FANTASTICS

(Courtesy Don Moore, Managing Editor, Argosy)


Fantasy Fans may be interested to know some of the forthcoming
fantastic and weird stories scheduled for publication in Argosy, which
has always featured this type of fiction. In the November 4th issue,
Ray Cummings has a novelette, "Terror of the Unseen," in which a
criminal scientist masters the secret of electrical invisibility and
throws a great city into chaos. It is an exciting piece of science
fiction complete in this issue.

The following week, November 11th, Erle Stanley Gardner presents the
second of his series of stories about the Roadrunner, a lone wolf of
the Mexican border who has a strange faculty of seeing in the dark--a
scientifically possible but rare phenomenon which leads him into
unusual adventures. This novelette is entitled "Border Justice."

Otis Adelbert Kline starts his second novel of the red planet in the
November 25th issue. "The Outlaw of Mars" is a full length novel of
adventure in the weird world of canals, filled with amazing warfare
and fantastic animals.




The Kingdom Of The Worm

by Clark Ashton Smith


[Every fantasy reader knows Clark Ashton Smith, and he needs no
introduction. Not only is he the favorite of thousands, but his work
has been said to rival and even surpass Poe. Although, as a general
rule, we do not take sides, we admit without the slightest hesitation
that we enjoy Clark Ashton Smith's tales a great deal more than we do
Poe's. Even those that find Smith's work altogether too fantastic must
admit that no other author has nearly as beautiful a vocabulary, and
few have as great an ability to produce the utterly weird effect as
our present author. He claims that "The Kingdom of the Worm" is one of
his weirdest and most original of his tales, and we are inclined to
agree with him. Let the story speak for itself.]

                     *      *      *      *      *

FOREWORD

This tale was suggested by the reading of "The Voyages and Travels of
Sir John Maundeville," in which the fantastic realm of Abchaz and the
darkness covered province of Hanyson are actually described! I
recommend this colourful fourteenth-century book to lovers of fantasy.
Sir John even tells, in one chapter, how diamonds propagate
themselves! Truly, the world was a wonderful place in those times,
when almost everyone believed in the verity of such marvels.

Now in his journeying Sir John Maundeville had passed well to one side
of that remarkable province in the kingdom of Abchaz which was called
Hanyson; and, unless he was greatly deceived by those of whom he had
inquired the way, could deem himself within two days' travel of the
neighboring realm of Georgia.

He had seen the river that flowed out from Hanyson, a land of hostile
idolators on which there lay the curse of perpetual darkness; and
wherein, it was told, the voices of people, the crowing of cocks and
the neighing of horses had sometimes been heard by those who
approached its confines. But he had not paused to investigate the
verity of these marvels; since the direct route of his journey was
through another region; and also Hanyson was a place into which no
man, not even the most hardy, would care to enter without need.

However, as he pursued his wayfaring with the two Armenian Christians
who formed his retinue, he began to hear from the inhabitants of that
portion of Abchaz the rumor of an equally dread demesne, named
Antchar, lying before him on the road to Georgia. The tales they told
were both vague and frightful, and were of varying import: some said
that this country was a desolation peopled only by the liches of the
dead and by loathly phantoms; others, that it was subject to the
ghouls and afrits, who devoured the dead and would suffer no living
mortal to trespass upon their dominions; and still others spoke of
things all too hideous to be described, and of dire necromancies that
prevailed in Antchar even as the might of emperors doth prevail in
more usually ordered lands. And the tales agreed only in this, that
Antchar had been within mortal memory one of the fairest domains of
Abchaz, but had been utterly laid waste by an unknown pestilence, so
that its high cities and broad fields were long since abandoned to the
desert and to such devils and other creatures as inhabit waste places.
And the tellers of the tales agreed in warning Sir John to avoid this
region and to take the road which ran deviously to the north of
Antchar; for Antchar was a place into which no man had gone in latter
times.

The good knight listened gravely to all these, as was his wont; but
being a stout Christian, and valorous withal, he would not suffer them
to deter him from his purpose. Even when the last inhabited village
had been left behind, and he came to the division of the ways, and saw
verily that the highway into Antchar had not been trodden by man or
beast for generations, he refused to change his intention but rode
forward stoutly while the Armenians followed with much protest and
some trepidation.

Howbeit, he was not blind to the sundry disagreeable tokens that began
to declare themselves along the way. There were neither trees, herbs
nor lichens anywhere, such as would grow in any wholesome land; but
low hills mottled with a leprosy of salt, and ridges bare as the bones
of the dead.

Anon he came to a pass where the hills were strait and steep on each
hand, with pinnacled cliffs of a dark stone crumbling slowly into dust
and taking shapes of wild horror and strangeness, of demonry and
Satanry as they crumbled. There were faces in the stone, having the
semblance of ghouls or goblins, that appeared to move and twist as the
travellers went by; and Sir John and his companions were troubled by
the aspect of these faces and by the similitudes which they bore to
one another. So much alike, indeed, were many of them, that it seemed
as if their first exemplars were preceding the wayfarers, to mock them
anew at each turn. And aside from those which were like ghouls or
goblins, there were others having the features of heathen idols,
uncouth and hideous to behold; and others still that were like the
worm-gnawed visages of the dead; and these also appeared to repeat
themselves on every hand in a doubtful and wildering fashion.

The Armenians would have turned back, for they swore that the rocks
were alive and endowed with motion, in a land where naught else was
living; and they sought to dissuade Sir John from his project. But he
said merely, "Follow me, an ye will," and rode onward among the rocks
and pinnacles.

Now, in the ancient dust of the unused road, they saw the tracks of a
creature that was neither man nor any terrestrial beast; and the
tracks were of such unwonted shape and number, and were so monstrous
withal, that even Sir John was disquieted thereby; and perceiving
them, the Armenians murmured more openly than before.

And now, as they still pursued their way, the pinnacles of the pass
grew tall as giants, and were riven into the likeness of mighty limbs
and bodies, some of which were headless and others with heads of
Typhoean enormity. And their shadows deepened between the travellers
and the sun, to more than the umbrage of shadows cast by rocks. And in
the darkest depth of the ravine, Sir John and his followers met a
solitary jackal, which fled them not in the manner of its kind but
passed them with leisurely pace and bespoke them with articulate
words, in a voice hollow and sepulchral as that of a demon, bidding
them to turn back, since the land before them was an interdicted
realm. All were much startled thereat, considering that this was
indeed a thing of enchantment, for a jackal to speak thus, and being
against nature, was fore-ominous of ill and peril. And the Armenians
cried out, saying they would go no further; and when the jackal had
passed from sight, they fled after it, spurring their horses like men
who were themselves ridden by devils.

Seeing them thus abandon him, Sir John was somewhat wroth; and also he
was perturbed by the warning of the jackal; and he liked not the
thought of faring alone into Antchar. But, trusting in our Savior to
forfend him against all harmful enchantments and the necromancies of
Satan, he rode on among the rocks till he came forth at length from
their misshapen shadows; and emerging thus, he saw before him a grey
plain that was like the ashes of some dead land under extinguished
heavens.

At sight of this region, his heart misgave him sorely, and he misliked
it even more than the twisted faces of the rocks and the riven forms
of the pinnacles. For here the bones of men, of horses and camels, had
marked the way with their pitiable whiteness; and the topmost branches
of long dead trees arose like supplicative arms from the sand that had
sifted upon the older gardens. And here there were ruinous houses,
with doors open to the high-drifting desert, and mausoleums sinking
slowly in the dunes. And here, as Sir John rode forward, the sky
darkened above him, though not with the passage of clouds or the
coming of the simoon, but rather with the strange dusk of midmost
eclipse, wherein the shadows of himself and his horse were blotted
out, and the tombs and houses were wan as phantoms.

Sir John had not ridden much further, when he met a horned viper, or
cerastes, crawling toilsomely away from Antchar in the deep dust of
the road. And the viper spoke at it passed him, saying with a human
voice, "Be warned, and go not onward into Antchar, for this is a realm
forbidden to all mortal beings except the dead."

Now did Sir John address himself in prayer to God the Highest, and to
Jesus Christ our Savior and all the blessed Saints, knowing surely
that he had arrived in a place that was subject to Satanical dominion.
And while he prayed the gloom continued to thicken, till the road
before him was half nighted and was no longer easy to discern. And
though he would have still ridden on, his charger halted in the gloom
and would not respond to the spur, but stood and trembled like one who
is smitten with palsy.

Then, from the twilight that was nigh to darkness, there came gigantic
figures, muffled and silent and having, as he thought, neither mouths
nor eyes beneath the brow-folds of their sable cerements. They uttered
no word, nor could Sir John bespeak them in the fear that came upon
him; and likewise he was powerless to draw his sword. And they plucked
him from his saddle with fleshless hands, and led him away, half
swooning at the horror of their touch, on paths that he perceived only
with the dim senses of one who goes down into the shadow of death. And
he knew not how far they led him nor in what direction; and he heard
no sound as he went other than the screaming of his horse far off,
like a soul in mortal dread and agony: for the footfalls of those who
had taken him were soundless and he could not tell if they were
phantoms or haply were veritable demons. A coldness blew upon him, but
without the whisper or soughing of wind; and the air he breathed was
dense with corruption and such odors as may emanate from a broken
charnel.

For a time, in the faintness that had come upon him, he saw not the
things that were standing beside the way, nor the shrouded shapes that
went by in funereal secrecy. Then, recovering his senses a little, he
perceived that there were houses about him and the streets of a town,
though these were but scantly to be discerned in the night that had
fallen without bringing the stars. Howbeit, he saw, or deemed, that
there were high mansions and broad thoroughfares and markets; and
among them, as he went on, a building that bore the appearance of a
great palace, with a facade that glimmered vaguely, and domes and
turrets half swallowed up by the lowering darkness.

As he neared the facade, Sir John saw that the glimmering came from
within and was cast obscurely through open doors and between
broad-spaced pillars. Too feeble was the light for torch or cresset,
too dim for any lamp; and Sir John marvelled amid his faintness and
terror. But when he had drawn closer still, he saw that the strange
gleaming was like the phosphor bred by the putrefaction of a charnel.

Beneath the guidance of those who held him helpless, he entered the
building. They led him through a stately hall, in whose carven columns
and ornate furniture the opulence of kings was manifest; and thence he
came into a great audience-room, with a throne of gold and ebony set
on a high dais, all of which was illumed by no other light than the
glimmering of decay. And the throne was tenanted, not by any human
lord or sultan, but a grey, prodigious creature, of height and bulk
exceeding those of man, and having in all its over-swollen form the
exact similitude of a charnel-worm. And the worm was alone, and except
for the worm and Sir John and those beings who had brought him
thither, the great chamber was empty as a mausoleum of old days, whose
occupants were long since consumed by corruption.

Then, standing there with a horror upon him such as no man had ever
envisaged, Sir John became aware that the worm was scrutinizing him
severely, with little eyes deep-folded in the obscene bloating of its
face, and then, with a dreadful and solemn voice, it addressed him,
saying:

"I am king of Antchar, by virtue of having conquered and devoured the
mortal ruler thereof, as well as all those who were his subjects. Know
then that this land is mine and that the intrusion of the living is
unlawful and not readily to be condoned. The rashness and folly thou
hast shown in thus coming here is verily most egregious; since thou
wert warned by the peoples of Abchaz, and warned anew by the jackal
and the viper which thou didst meet on the road into Antchar. Thy
temerity hath earned a condign punishment. And before I suffer thee to
go hence, I decree that thou shalt lie for a term among the dead, and
dwell as they dwell, in a dark sepulcher, and learn the manner of
their abiding and the things which none should behold with living
eyes. Yea, still alive, it shall be thine to descend and remain in the
very midst of death and putrefaction, for such length of time as
seemeth meet to correct thy folly and punish thy presumption."

Sir John was one of the worthiest knights in Christendom, and his
valor was beyond controversy. But when he heard the speech of the
throned worm, and the judgement that it passed upon him, his fear
became so excessive that once again he was nigh to swooning. And,
still in this state, he was taken hence by those who had brought him
to the audience-room. And somewhere in the outer darkness, in a place
of tombs and graves and cenotaphs beyond the dim town, he was flung
into a deep sepulcher of stone, and the brazen door of the sepulcher
was closed upon him.

Lying there through the seasonless midnight, Sir John was companioned
only by an unseen cadaver and by those ministrants of decay who were
not yet wholly done with their appointed task. Himself as one half
dead, in the sore extremity of his horror and loathing, he could not
tell if it were day or night in Antchar; and in all the term of
endless hours that he lay there, he heard no sound, other than the
beating of his own heart, which soon became insufferably loud, and
oppressed him like the noise and tumult of a great throng.

Appalled by the clamor of his heart, and affrighted by the thing which
lay in perpetual silence beside him, and whelmed by the awesomeness
and dire necromancy of all that had befallen him, Sir John was prone
to despair, and scant was his hope of returning from that imprisonment
amid the dead, or of standing once more under the sun as a living man.
It was his to learn the voidness of death, to share the abomination of
desolation, and to comprehend the unutterable mysteries of corruption;
and to do all this not as one who is a mere insensible cadaver, but
with soul and body still inseparate. His flesh crept, and his spirit
cringed within him, as he felt the crawling of worms that went avidly
to the dwindling corpse or came away in glutted slowness. And it
seemed to Sir John at that time (and at all times thereafter) that the
condition of his sojourn in the tomb was verily to be accounted a
worse thing than death.

At last, when many hours or days had gone over him, leaving the tomb's
darkness unchanged by the entrance of any beam or the departure of any
shadow, Sir John was aware of a sullen clangor, and knew that the
brazen door had been opened. And now, for the first time, by the
dimness of twilight that had entered the tomb, he saw in all its
piteousness and repulsion the thing with which he had abode so long.
In the sickness that fell upon him at this sight, he was haled forth
from the sepulcher by those who had thrust him therein: and, fainting
once more with the terror of their touch, and shrinking from their
gigantic shadowy stature and cerements whose black folds revealed no
human visage or form, he was led through Antchar along the road
whereby he had come into that dolorous realm.

His guides were silent as before; and the gloom which lay upon the
land was even as when he had entered it, and was like the umbrage of
some eternal occultation. But at length, in the very place where he
had been taken captive, he was left to retrace his own way and to fare
alone through the land of ruinous gardens toward the defile of the
crumbling rocks.

Weak though he was from his confinement, and all bemazed with the
things which had befallen him, he followed the road till the darkness
lightened once more and he came forth from its penumbral shadow
beneath a pale sun. And somewhere in the waste he met his charger,
wandering through the sunken fields that were covered up by the sand;
and he mounted the charger and rode hastily away from Antchar through
the pass of the strange boulders with mocking forms and faces. And
after a time he came once more to the northern road by which
travellers commonly went to Georgia; and here he was rejoined by the
two Armenians, who had waited on the confines of Antchar, praying for
his secure deliverance.

Long afterwards, when he had returned from his wayfaring in the East
and among the peoples of remote isles, he told of the kingdom of
Abchaz in the book that related his travels; and also he wrote therein
concerning the province of Hanyson. But he made no mention of Antchar,
that kingdom of darkness and decay ruled by the throned worm.




HOW TO COLLECT FANTASY FICTION

by Julius Schwartz

Part Two


The next task is more difficult: the question of back numbers of the
current magazines. Some back issues are almost impossible to secure.
However, be sure to try the magazine publishers. If this fails, scour
the second-hand book and magazine stores. If they haven't the issues,
leave a standing order with them. (They're eager for business and
they'll make an honest attempt to secure the desired issues for you.)
Scan the discussions columns. Readers often offer to sell or trade
back numbers. Then try the large second-hand magazine dealers, such as
Carl Swanson, Washburn, North Dakota and the Smith Book Co., Box 661,
Lawrence, Massachusetts.

As a last resort advertise.

That takes care of all magazines that are now being published. Now we
have to contend with real difficulties. We're going to trail down
fantasy stories that were published in magazines no longer sold at
newsstands! Chief among these defunct magazines is Astounding Stories,
Strange Tales, and Wonder Stories Quarterly. (More details are needed
with these out-of-print magazines, so it'll be given whenever definite
information is known concerning them.) This periodical (Astounding
Stories), a science fiction magazine, first appeared on the newsstands
with its January, 1930 issue and was discontinued but a short time
ago, in March 1933. Its companion magazine, Strange Tales, published
weird, fantastic fiction. Dates: September, 1931 to January, 1933.
Wonder Stories Quarterly, science fiction, ran from Fall, 1929 to
Winter, 1933, publishing only inter-planetary tales in the last two
years.

(Next month Mr. Schwartz describes the less known fantasy magazines.)

                     *      *      *      *      *

Subscribe now and insure yourself of a monthly copy. Only a limited
number are printed.




INFORMATION


(This department will answer any question about fantasy fiction. There
is no charge, and you may use it freely.)

1. When did Miracle, Science and Fantasy Stories come out, how long
was it issued and what was the selling price?--Con Pankevich, Jr.

Miracle, Science and Fantasy Stories appeared in 1931. There were only
two bi-monthly issues, April-May which was on sale April 5th, and
June-July, which came out on May 15. Both issues had been printed
before the first one was on sale. It sold for 20 cents per copy.

2. How many Amazing Stories Annuals were there, and for what
years?--Con Pankevich, Jr.

The 1927 Amazing Stories Annual was the only one published.

3. In what issues of Amazing Stories did the Skylark stories
appear?--J. Smart

"Skylark of Space," by Edward E. Smith, Ph. D., appeared in the
August, September and October 1928 issues of Amazing Stories, and its
sequel, "Skylark Three" appeared in the same issues for 1930. The
former story was collaborated on Lee Garby. Dr. Smith is now working
on his third story in this series, which will be published in Amazing
some time next year.

4. Who wrote "Cosmic Power?"--J. Sam Smart

"Cosmic Power," in the April, 1931 issue of Amazing, was by John C.
Dare.

5. What were the stories in the first Amazing Stories Quarterly?--J.
Sam Smart

"The Morn of Doom" by Earl L. Bell; "The Atomic Riddle" by Edward S.
Sears; "When the Sleeper Wakes" by H. G. Wells (reprint); "The Golden
Vapor" by E. H. Johnson; "The Puzzle Duel" by Miles J. Breuer, M.D.;
and "The Terrors of the Upper Air" by Frank Orndoff.

6. What were the stories in the first Wonder Stories Quarterly?--J.
Sam Smart

"The Shot Into Infinity" by Otto Willi Gail (translated from the
German); "The Artificial Man" by Clare Winger Harris; "The Hidden
World" by Edmond Hamilton; and "The Gravitational Deflector" by Harry
D. Parker.

7. Please give me a list of the stories written by Nathan Schachner--J.
Sam Smart

"Back to 20,000 A.D."o Wonder, March, 1931; "The Death Cloud"o
Astounding, May, 1931; "The Dead-Alive"o Weird, April-May, 1931;
"Exiles of the Moon"o Wonder, Sept., Oct., & Nov., 1931; "Emperor of
the Stars"o Wonder, April, 1931; "In 20,000 A.D."o Wonder, Sept.,
1930; "The Menace from Andromeda"o Amazing, April, 1931; "Pirates of
the Gorm" Astounding, May, 1932; "Revolt of the Machines"o
Astounding, July, 1931; "The Tower of Evil"o Wonder Quart., Summer,
1930; "Venus Mines, Incorporated"o Wonder, August, 1931; "Slaves of
Mercury" Astounding, Sept., 1932; "Emissaries of Space" Wonder Quart.,
Fall, 1932; "The Time Express" Wonder, Dec., 1932; "Memory of the
Atoms" Wonder, Jan., 1933; "The Eternal Dictator" Wonder, Feb., 1933;
"The Robot Technocrat" Wonder, March, 1933; a series of stories in the
April, May, and June, 1933 issues of Wonder; "The Revolt of the
Scientists", "The Great Oil War," and "The Final Triumph;" and "Fire
Imps of Vesuvius" Astounding, Oct. (All stories marked with o were
collaborated with Arthur Leo Zagat, and "The Memory of the Atoms" was
composed with R. Lacher. Mr. Schachner's first story was "The Tower of
Evil.")

8. What happened to the sequel to "Thru the Dragon Glass," by A.
Merritt?--David Stolaroff

For some unknown reason, Mr. Merritt never wrote a sequel to this
story, although it could stand one very well. Perhaps he will write
one yet, even after all these years, if his fans are persistent
enough. Reprint copies of this remarkable story, A. Merritt's first,
can be purchased for ten cents a copy from Robert Scarlet, Jr., 87-36
162nd St., Jamaica, Long Island, N.Y.




ABOUT AUTHORS


Some fan, after reading one of Jules Verne's tales in Amazing, wrote
in claiming that he was a very promising author! Charles Willard
Diffin and C. D. Willard is the same author.... The fastest writer:
Arthur J. Burks. The slowest: Edward Elme Smith.... P. Schuyler Miller
became a science fiction author as the result of a cover contest....
You can't call Raymond Gallun a half-pint, anyway. (How did that pun
get into this column?)... The question is still unsatisfactorily: WHO
is Anthony Gilmore???... Allen Glasser's "Captives in Space" in the
July, 1932 "The Time Traveller" is a rejected entry of the November,
1929 Science Wonder Stories cover contest.... Two of the titles of H.
G. Winter's stories contain the word "ice," which seems quite
appropriate.... Sewell Peaslee Wright had a story in Weird years
before Astounding.




CONTEST RESULTS


The winner of last month's cash prize contest is William Sykora, 35-51
41st St., Long Island City, New York. Here is his answer to "Why do
you read fantasy fiction?"

"Why do I read fantasy fiction? I often wonder. The occult, the
fantastic, have always held me with supreme, almost unholy,
fascination. I have found that by constant practice, an all-excluding,
all-consuming concentration bonds stronger than the strongest steel to
all dismally horrible tales of the supernatural. The earthly ties that
hold me mentally and morally to a workaday existence, are hypnotically
rent asunder by a mesmerism born of steely sharp concentration. Thus
do I thrill--quake--and shudder with the delightful ecstasy of bizarre
adventure through the awful expanse of the inconceivably terrible
unknown universe, and I love it."

Because of lack of support, we will not present another cash prize
contest, until enough readers ask for one. If we receive enough
petitions, we will take great pleasure in featuring another in the
near future.




SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE

by H. P. Lovecraft

(Copyright, 1927 by W. Paul Cook)


1. Introduction

The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest
and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. These facts few
psychologists will dispute, and their admitted truth must establish
for all time the genuineness and dignity of the weirdly horrible tale
as a literary form. Against it are discharged all the shafts of a
materialistic sophistication which clings to frequently felt emotions
and external events, and a naively insipid idealism which deprecates
the aesthetic motive and calls for a didactic literature to "uplift"
the reader toward a suitable degree of smirking optimism. But in spite
of all this opposition, the weird tale has survived, developed, and
attained remarkable heights of perfection; founded as it is on a
profound and elementary principle whose appeal, if not always
universal, must necessarily be poignant and permanent to minds of the
requisite sensitiveness.

The appeal of the spectrally macabre is generally narrow because it
demands from the reader a certain degree of imagination and a capacity
for detachment from everyday life. Relatively few are free enough from
the spell of daily routine to respond to rappings from outside, and
tales of ordinary feelings and events, or of common sentimental
distortions of such feelings and events, will always take first place
in the taste of the majority; rightly, perhaps, since, of course,
these ordinary matters make up the greater part of human experience.
But the sensitive are always with us, and sometimes a curious streak
of fancy invades an obscure corner of the very hardest head; so that
no amount of rationalism, reform, or Freudian analysis can quite annul
the thrill of the chimney-corner whisper of the lonely wood. There is
here involved a psychological pattern or tradition as real and as
deeply grounded in mental experience as any other pattern or tradition
of mankind; coeval with the religious feeling and closely related to
many aspects of it, and too much a part of our inmost biological
heritage to lose keen potency over a very important, though not
numerically great, minority of our species.

Man's first instincts and emotions form his response to the
environment in which he found himself. Definite feelings based on
pleasure and pain grew up around the phenomena whose causes and
effects he understood, whilst around those which he did not
understand--and the universe teemed with them in the early days--were
naturally woven such personifications, marvelous interpretations, and
sensations of awe and fear as would be hit upon by a race having few
and simple ideas and limited experience. The unknown, being likewise
the unpredictable, became for our primitive forefathers a terrible and
omnipotent source of boons and calamities visited upon mankind for
cryptic and wholly extra-terrestrial reasons, and thus clearly
belonged to a sphere of existence whereof we know nothing and wherein
we have no part. The phenomenon of dreaming likewise helped to build
up the notion of an unreal or spiritual world; and in general, all the
conditions of savage dawn-life so strongly conduced to a feeling of
the supernatural, that we need not wonder at the thoroughness with
which man's very hereditary essence has become saturated with religion
and superstition. That saturation must, as a matter of plain
scientific fact, be regarded as virtually permanent so far as the
subconscious mind and inner instincts are concerned; for though the
area of the unknown has been steadily contracting for thousands of
years, an infinite reservoir of mystery still engulfs most of the
outer cosmos, whilst a vast residuum of powerful inherited
associations clings around all the objects and processes that were
once mysterious, however well they may now be explained. And more than
this, there is an actual physiological fixation of the old instincts
in our nervous tissue, which would make them obscurely operative even
were the conscious mind to be purged of all sources of wonder.

(continued next month)




TRUE GHOST STORIES


Edwin C. Hill talks on various subjects every night on the Columbia
Broadcasting System. One evening he devoted his program to ghost
stories about London that are supposed to be true. They sound very
convincing and have many witnesses. We leave it to the reader whether
to accept them as truth, or discard them as merely hallucinations.
However, they are extremely interesting, nevertheless.

Once, two sailors were roaming around London and came upon an old, but
handsome, mansion.

"Funny no one lives here," said one, "This shack seems too good to be
left vacant."

But the two sailors didn't intend to leave it vacant that night. They
had no money, and thus could not pay for lodging, so they entered the
old house, intending to spend the night there.

After climbing to the second floor and finding a fireplace, they built
a blazing fire with some wood they had secured. Curling up in some old
clothes, they went to sleep beside the roaring fire.

Suddenly, after many hours, one of the sailors awoke, half-conscious
of some noise. There it was again! It sounded like a door being
closed. Yes--that's what it must have been. A few pieces of wood to
bring the dying fire to renewed activity gave him some courage, but he
woke the other sailor anyway.

He had hardly time to explain to his friend the reason for his
disturbance, when the noise was repeated.

"It's the wind," said one, and they accepted that explanation,
preparing to go to sleep again, but instantly their returned with
greater confirmation. Another sound.

Any thoughts but of the supernatural were out of the question. This
time it was footsteps--but what footsteps! Not human--not animal! They
were padded sounds--something like bare feet. Nearer and nearer.

Suddenly they stopped, and the door opened. Slowly--and there was
revealed to their terrified senses the most horrible monstrosity
imaginable. It could not be of this earth!

One crazed sailor jumped past it and flew down the stairs, out of the
house, and screamed in mortal terror into the streets.

He told his story--and the next day the body of his companion was
found mangled on the ground. He had leaped out of a second story
window.

Another story tells the tale of a man walking through a London park at
day-break on the bank of the Thames. While passing a bridge, he spies
a woman jumping into the river, and he takes off his coat preparing to
save her, but a hand touches his shoulder. An officer.

"It's no use," he said, "You could not save her. She is not a living
woman. Return tomorrow at this time and you will see her repeat her
ghastly act."

The bewildered man did so, and the next morning was but a repetition
of the one before.

"You see?" said the officer, "She does that for seven consecutive
mornings each year. Today is the last one this year. She died here a
long time ago."

(This article will be concluded next month.)




THE BOILING POINT


You will remember the terrific outburst Forrest J. Ackerman made upon
Clark Ashton Smith's stories and weird tales in general in last
month's column. Shortly after the issue went to press, we received the
following postscript to his article which he requested to have printed
at the beginning of this month's column.

"I could as well pick on John Taine--a favorite author, mind you--for
'The Time Stream' in Wonder Stories, another story considered doubtful
science fiction. My only interest is to keep stf. in the stf.
publications, and let fantasies and weird tales appear in the
magazines featuring that type.

"It is to be hoped that Mr. Smith will discover many of his admirers
thru the writings of readers caring to present arguments...."

It is only fair that Mr. Smith himself should have the first blow
against Mr. Ackerman's argument, in defense of his own stories. He
calls his defense "Horror, Fantasy and Science."

"Mr. Ackerman's fervent and ebullient denunciation of my stories,
followed by Editor Hornig's invitation to join the melee, is not to be
resisted.

"I infer that Forrest J. Ackerman considers horror, weirdness and
unearthliness beyond the bounds of science or science or science
fiction. Since horror and weirdness are integral elements of life (as
is well known to those who have delved beneath the surface) and since,
in all likelihood, the major portion of the universe is quite
unearthly, I fail to understand the process of logic or syllogism by
which he has arrived at this truly amazing proscription.

"Let me recommend to Mr. Ackerman, and to others like him, a more
scientifically open and receptive attitude of imagination. If Mr.
Ackerman were transported to some alien world, I fear that he would
find the reality far more incredible, bizarre, grotesque, fantastic,
horrific, and impossible than any of my stories.

"In regard to 'The Light From Beyond,' I cannot see that this tale is
any more fantastic and unreal than others dealing with unknown
dimensions or planes of hyper-space. Physical entry into such planes
is improbable, but form an alluring theme for fictional speculation.

"It is curious that Mr. Ackerman should profess to like 'Flight Into
Super-Time', a story which is wilder, if anything, than the ones he
has denounced. I might also add that it was written as a satire on
time-travelling, and should not have been read too seriously.

"Of course, it is Forrest Ackerman's privilege to dislike my stories,
and to express his dislike whenever he chooses. I have merely tried to
point out that he is in error when he condemns them as being
inherently unsuitable for a scientifiction magazine."

H. P. Lovecraft also defends the weird tale:

"As for Ackerman's ebullition, I fear he can hardly be taken seriously
in matters involving the criticism of imaginative fiction. Smith's
story was really splendid, except for the cheap ending on which the
Editor Wonder Stories insisted. Ackerman once wrote me a letter with a
very childish attack on my work--he evidently enjoys verbal
pyrotechnics for their own sake and seems so callous to imaginative
impressions."

August W. Derleth liked everything in "The Fantasy Fan" except the
letter in this department from Forrest J. Ackerman "Who," he says,
"while usually quite interesting, nevertheless has the unpleasant
habit of trying to make everything over into his own imagine."

R. H. Barlow gives an open reply to Mr. Ackerman in defense of Clark
Ashton Smith.

"To my mind you are deplorably lacking in imagination to so condemn
some of the finest work of the greatest living fantasy writer. Must
you be so literal, physical, in your interpretation of imaginative
literature? Clark Ashton Smith, whom I have the honor of knowing, is
primarily and foremost a poet, his work having received the highest
commendation of such persons as Edwin Markham, George Sterling, etc.
Truly, his colourfully nightmarish visions are far superior to the
conventional type of--forgive me--trash--printed in the average
mercenary scientifiction magazine. The mere fact that a few helpless
ray-projectors, heroine consisting mainly of lipstick and legs, and a
dastardly villain, are not dragged in by the nape of their respective
necks certainly does nothing to impair the excellence of his dulcet
prose, but rather it an agreeable relief."

Come on, now, everybody join in the battle!




ANNALS OF THE JINNS

by R. H. Barlow

"...Thither Ganigul often retired in the daytime to read in quiet the
marvelous annals of the Jinns, the chronicles of ancient worlds, and
the prophecies relating to the worlds that are yet to be born...."

    Wm. Beckford
    --"Story of Prince Barkiarokh"


1--The Black Tower

At the head of the winding river Olaee, nearby the fragrant forest,
stands the Black Tower of the Southlands. High into the air rise its
bleak stone walls, piercing the sunset with slender spire. For
eternity it has been there; by the sluggish waters on which float
great bloated crimson lilies and for eternity will it be there. The
peasants of the nearby village know not whence it came nor why 'tis
there, and wisely avoid it when the moon is on the wane. Few dare
visit the colourful forest of evil or the treacherous river, for
strange and unholy things dwell therein.

Some tell of how on the dark of the moon there comes from the great
star Sirius a growing speck of flame ultimately losing itself in the
eternal midnight of outer space. However this may be, it is certain
strange and alien beings built this ebon tower in the dawn of the
world, for purposes not understood by mortals; sealing the door long
ages since.

There is a tale the old wives spin, saying: One of the adventurous
villagers, Castor by name, took undue interest in the tower and was
frequently seen slipping furtively to and from it in the dusk. Of all
the people of the town he had the least savoury ancestry, his father
being a satyr, his mother a witch-woman. True, others mated with the
people of the glen, yet it is not considered a thing to be proud of.
The very Burgomaster had a gnome none too far back in his lineage,
which was expressed in the coarse features of his evil countenance.
But a satyr! The righteous citizens avoided Castor scrupulously, and
the dislike was mutual. So it was he continued on his silent trips
unheeded.

What he did there so often not known but the seasons came and went and
the winter merged into spring and in time it was Walburgas Eve. That
night the town gates were tightly closed and bolted and all cowered
behind locked doors. Strange shapes flew screeching through the air
and sniffed most horribly at the doorsteps.

That night Castor went to the tower as had become his habit, though
his better sense warned him to stay home abed. His satyr ancestry
openly rebelled, but the witch proved stronger. As he stole timorously
through the wood he heard sounds of high revelry from within the
castle. Therefore, he was quiet as he hesitated before the foot of the
long unopened door. Queer things were abroad though he dared not
return home alone through the forest, still more did he fear to remain
within reach of the Things of the tower. As he deliberated on the
course to take the great door swung silently open and a crab like claw
lovingly encircled his waist and drew him in.

And he was seen no more by the villagers.




SCIENCE FICTION IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES

(Series 2)

by Bob Tucker


What England needs is a good science fiction mag. The present ones are
thrilling, but small and cheap. They have swell titles, but often the
story falls short. On the other hand, that's an old American custom.
Believe it or not, but just 653210987600 stories have been written
under the title "The End of the World"! (Editor's note: Mr. Tucker, I
think you exaggerate. I haven't seen half that many.). And if you
scientifictionists want some darned good arguments over anything
scientific, just give this fellow a line: Dennis Gilbert Smith, 521
Bearwood Road, Smeethwick, Staffs., England. He is a student of
theology.

Talk about a swell picture!--Wesso or Paul should look at the
illustration of the moon-men attacking a giant army tank way back in
the April 1st issue of "The Skipper," an English mag that makes a
specialty of science-fiction.

Freaks in the raw: An English mag printed a story of a kid (age about
14) who had magnetic hands, and could draw metals to him by merely
extending his fingers--well, the kid, instead of capturing the earth
by pulling out its magnets with his fingers, as would usually be done
does nothing but play tricks with scales, making water buckets dance
in the air, etc--darn dumb, some of these authors.

"Red Raiders of Mystery" is a future air-war story in "Weekly Boy's
Magazine", while another "The Rover," printed "Britain Invaded," this
time by Chinese--what, again?...well, times are hard everywhere....
(Editor's note: not anymore. How about the N R A?) Another mag by the
name of "Modern Boy" prints about two series of interplanetary stories
a year concerning the adventures of Captain Justice. Blood and
thunder. George Ward, 91 Milton Road Margate, Kent, England, would
like to hear from some American fans.




MY SCIENCE FICTION COLLECTION

by Forrest J. Ackerman

Part Two


The foregoing covers approximately half of my set. The remaining
portions of my stf collection are more to be looked at than read. My
stf books and magazines lie behind sliding panels. These panels are
decorated with various original stf illustrations. Two are by an
artist friend showing the rocketship STF-I over a foreign world, and
the other a city of the future. One is by Morey. There is a Tarzan
jig-saw puzzle, and one of the mighty 56 foot prehistoric ape, King
Kong, engaging in a battle with a flesh-eating allosaur. From "The
Swordsman of Mars" comes another drawing. Two striking Paul
illustrations are prominent, one being what I consider one of his very
best: the inside drawing for "The City of Singing Flame," picturing
the towering black and ivory edifices of that weird world. Buck Rogers
in his interesting costume with rocket pistol smiles down. And Elliott
Dold, Jr. has autographed his original frontispiece for Miracle
Stories' first issue, "The Midnite Mail takes off for Mars." Paul's
original Wonder Stories' cover for "The Dust of Destruction" hangs on
a side wall.

(Next month Mr. Ackerman describes his science fiction autographs.)




THE SCIENCE FICTION ALPHABET

by Allen Glasser

Part Two--Conclusion


    N is for Newton, the Gravity King,
    Whose laws, in our mags, just don't mean a thing.

    O's for Ourselves, who read science-fiction
    We know what we like, and there's no dereliction.

    P's for the Princess that's always on hand
    To wed the brave Earthman who visits her land.

    Q is for Quinn, the weird-story writer;
    If he'd do science fiction his fame might be brighter.

    R is for Robot, of whom much is said;
    For many an author his antics have fed.

    S is for Starzl, Schachner, and Sloane;
    And let's not forget Doc Smith and Miss Stone.

    T is for Time, a favorite theme
    Which never grows stale--or so it would seem.

    U is the Unknown, which writers employ
    Whenever they need some death dealing toy.

    V is for Venus, which belonged to one Kline
    Until Mr. Burroughs took over that line.

    W's Wonder, a changeable book;
    You never can tell how it's going to look.

    X means "okay" when written "All X"
    A term which has brought Doctor Smith many checks.

    Y's for the Yarn which will suit everyone;
    We hardly believe it can ever be done.

    Z is for Zagat--whom else could it be?
    It's lucky for us his name starts with Z!

                     *      *      *      *      *

Come over to "Our Readers Say" and "The Boiling Point" and have a
word.




SEQUELS--BY POPULAR DEMAND

by Walt Z. Russjuchi

Part Two


Ray Cummings' first story, in 1919, "The Girl in the Golden Atom,"
practically shrieked to the skies for a sequel, and Cummings obliged a
year later with "The People of the Golden Atom."

Then, in 1921, Austin Hall, and Homer Eon Flint collaborated to write
that remarkable story, "The Blind Spot," and what a fervor that
created! The mystery of the "Blind Spot" was left unexplained,
loopholes were hanging in the air, and it had one of the most
unsatisfactory endings of them all. Readers entreated and implored the
editor and the authors for a sequel. But alas! Just about this time
Homer Eon Flint died, and it wasn't until 11 years later that the fans
read Austin Hall's sequel, "The Spot of Life."

Ralph Milne Farley's "The Radio Man" created another sensation when it
appeared in the 1924 Argosy-All Story, and it was followed by seven
"radio" novels (only three of which, however, are related to the
original story.)

"The Face in the Abyss" by A. Merritt was received mildly by the
readers of the same magazine in 1923. It wasn't until Amazing Stories
Annual reprinted this story in 1927 that a sequel was asked for.
Ironically enough, though these readers were responsible for the
sequels, "The Snake Mother," being written, it appeared in Argosy in
1930.

With the publication of Edward Elmer Smith's "The Skylark of Space" in
1928, the editorial offices of Amazing Stories were swamped with
beseechings for the further adventures of the Skylark. Dr. Smith
obliged with "Skylark Three" in 1930, and according to the discussions
columns the readers won't object to the third in the series, which is
now being written.

[Part three, next month, will be the conclusion of this article.]




CLARK ASHTON SMITH

Presents

    THE DOUBLE SHADOW AND OTHER FANTASIES

a booklet containing a half-dozen imaginative and atmospheric
tales.--Stories of exotic beauty, glamor, terror, strangeness, irony
and satire. Price; 25 cents each. [coin or stamps] Also a small
remainder of

    EBONY AND CRYSTAL

a book of 114 prose-poems published at $2.00 reduced to $1.00 per
copy.

Everything sent postpaid Clark Ashton Smith, Auburn, California.

                     *      *      *      *      *

ANNOUNCING:

UNUSUAL STORIES

A new monthly magazine of science-fiction. First issue contains a long
story by Dr. Miles J. Breuer, dealing with a 'different' Martian
invasion of the earth. Also: "The White Sybil," by Clark Ashton Smith;
"On Board the Space-Ship Terra," by L. A. Eshbach, and many others.
Reprints also planned. Selections determined by readers. Nearly a
hundred pages of best fantasy stories obtainable. NOT MIMEOGRAPHED!

Send in your subscription and selection for reprints today. 20
cents an issue. Trial subscription: three months--50 cents Eight
months--$1.00. No Stamps. Not Sold On Newsstands. TRY IT!

    UNUSUAL STORIES
    122 Water Street
    Everett, Pennsylvania

                     *      *      *      *      *

For Sale: Weird, fantastic, and scientific stories from old
Argosies--all dated before 1922! Write for complete list--Allen
Glasser, 1610 University Avenue, New York, N.Y.

                     *      *      *      *      *

THE EDITOR'S SWAP DEP'T.:

I will exchange one year's subscription to THE FANTASY FAN for any
perfect issue of Weird Tales dated 1923 or 1924 (except March, April,
and May-June-July); also a six month subscription for any 1925 issue
beside September and October. Other issues needed for 1926-1927--also
May, 1930. If you are interested, please communicate with me.--THE
EDITOR

                     *      *      *      *      *

For Sale: Back numbers of all science-fiction magazines. Send for free
list. Charles' Book Haven, 238 Seventh Avenue, New York, N.Y.

                     *      *      *      *      *

SCIENCE FICTION DIGEST

Presents

Interesting articles by leading authors and fan writers

    PLUS COSMOS

the stupendous Interplanetary Novel by Seventeen Foremost Masters of
SCIENCE FICTION and other fine fiction by Arthur J. Burks, Raymond A.
Palmer, L. A. Eshbach, P. Schuyler Miller, and many others.

YOU will receive:

    Three months for 25 cents
    Six months for 50 cents
    One year for $1.00

A sample copy may be obtained for the sum of 10 cents.

Send your subscription to:

    Science Fiction Digest Co.
    87-36 162nd Street
    Jamaica, New York






End of Project Gutenberg's The Fantasy Fan, October 1933, by Various