Page:Weird Tales Volume 3 Number 3 (1923-03).djvu/84



HE name, "Houdini," has long been synonymous throughout the world with such words as "uncanny" and "supernatural." Indeed, so widely known is Houdini's name, that it appears in this connection in Funk & Wagnalls' Dictionary.

Houdini emphatically does not believe in occult superstitions, and he probably would deny, just as vigorously, that his miraculous escapes from prison cells and handcuffs are aided by disembodied "spirits"—as so many believe they are. And yet there is no denying that many of his amazing exploits smack of the supernatural. No wonder his name is associated with things that cannot be explained!

His strange adventures in the far corners of the world are as hair-raising, as uncanny and as deeply absorbing as the fiction we have published in. Wherefore, mindful of what our readers like, we proposed to Houdini that he select from his vast store of experiences a particularly thrilling adventure and tell our readers about it.

He acquiesced—and the first installment of his extraordinary article appears in this issue of. You probably have read it before turning back here to read The Eyrie; and we think you will agree with us that it's one of the most interesting things we've ever published.

Unless we're grievously mistaken, you will like the second and final installment still better. Terrifying, to say the least, were Houdini's adventures in that underground torture chamber, but more terrifying still are the things that follow. In the April issue of the Houdini article will be concluded, and we can promise you that you'll feel well repaid for having read the rest of it.

We recommend that you order the April issue early. Tell your newsdealer to save a copy for you: There is likely to be an unprecedented demand for it; and you will feel chagrined if the salesman says, in response to your belated request, "We're all out of April "

We also suggest that you miss none of our forthcoming issues. This Houdini article, remember, is only the first of a series. More will follow. Watch for them.

And right here, while we're talking about ourselves and boasting of what we're going to do, we may as well announce that at last we're preparing to publish "The Upper Berth" by F. Marion Crawford. This is the story that so many of our readers—scores of them—have asked us to run in the "Masterpieces of Weird Fiction" department. We encountered some trouble in finding the story, but we finally discovered it, and now we are negotiating with the publishers for the right to reprint it.

We read the story through again and were pleased to find that it had lost none of its charm. We followed the "creepy" experiences of Mr. Crawford's sailor with the ghastly occupant of the upper berth as zestfully as when we first read the story, years and years ago.

We expect to publish "The Upper Berth" in our April issue.

E think we've said enough about that April issue, and now we shall talk of other matters. Suppose we discuss the poets? Since we began using verse in we have been bombarded with all manner of poetry, and most of it has been pretty bad, but occasionally something turns up in the mail that is really unusual. For instance, take this one from James F. Morton, Jr., of New York City. Mr. Morton accompanied his poem with a note, reading thus:

Having printed the note, we shall now print the poem, though not because of the flattering things the note says of us. This poem strikes a weird chord that seems in harmony with our