Page:Weird Tales v02 n01 (1923-07-08).djvu/88



VERYBODY, 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

And now let us consider the next one, which comes from Eleanor Gause of 451 Melrose Street, Chicago:

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:

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."

ERE'S a radiant burst of words from A. L. Mattison of Dallas, Texas, that may (or may not) interest you: