Chapter XVI: Part 16

I turn my eyes for a moment, and they fall upon the northern corner of the East Room, which shows round the edge of the house. Then the skeleton leaps from the cupboard of my memory; the icy hand which lies ever near my soul grips it suddenly with a chill shudder. Not for nothing was that wretched woman’s life interwoven with my own, if only for an hour; not for nothing did my spirit harbor a conflict and an agony, which, thank God, are far from its own story. Though Margaret Mervyn’s dagger failed to pierce my flesh, the wound in my soul may never wholly be healed. I know that that is so; and yet as I turn to start through the sunshine to the cedar shade and its laughing occupants, I whisper to myself with fervent conviction, “It was worth it.”

THE EYRIE

It’s a strange thing. We can’t understand it. In last month’s Eyrie we mentioned the enormous flood of manuscripts that daily inundates us, and now we’re going to dwell briefly on a singular phase of this sea of words—a peculiar circumstance that might profitably be studied by your sedulous student of psychology.

These manuscripts come from all parts of the civilized world, and they come from all sorts of people—lawyers, truck drivers, doctors, farmers’ wives, university professors, carpenters, high school girls, convicts, society women, drug fiends, ministers, policemen, novelists, hotel clerks and professional tramps—and one, therefore, would naturally expect their stories to possess corresponding diversity. But not so. With rare exceptions, all these stories, written by all these different kinds of people, are almost exactly alike!

Not only do they contain the same general plots and themes—one might understand that—but practically all are written in the same style; all have the same grammatical blunders, the same misspelled words, the same errors in punctuation, the same eccentric quirks of phraseology. After plowing through fifty or so of these stories (and we often read that many in an evening), a man acquires the dazed impression that all are written by the same person. It’s baffling! Why do the minds of these various types of people, living in different parts of the world and moving in dissimilar walks of life, slide comfortably into the same well-worn groove whenever they put their thoughts on paper? We give it up.

And now that we have that off our chest, we’ll talk of something less inexplicable and more delightful—namely, the Success of WEIRD TALES. That WEIRD TALES _is_ a success there seems no gainsaying now. When we made our bow with the first issue we were hopeful, yet not certain, of a cordial reception. With the second issue, our uncertainty began to vanish. And now, with this the third number of WEIRD TALES, we can happily announce that we’re here to stay. WEIRD TALES has “caught on” even more quickly than we hoped it would. The reaction of the public indicates that a vast multitude of people had long been waiting for just this sort of magazine.

We find a like indication in the enormous number of letters from delighted readers. We expected some such response, but we scarcely hoped for this multiplicity! We’re fairly deluged with these encomiums—and a little bewildered, too, and not quite sure which ones to choose for The Eyrie and which to leave out. Perhaps, then, we’d best shut our eyes and grab a handful at random....

We open our eyes and discover this:

“Dear Sir and Friend: Many times in the past I have been
tempted to write different editors, telling them how I enjoyed
certain stories. But always something restrained me. As I read
almost every fiction magazine published in America, you will
understand how often I have wanted to compliment them.

“Last night I saw a copy of your new magazine and bought one.
Although I had an early rehearsal at the theatre this morning,
I started at the first story AND NEVER LAID IT DOWN UNTIL I HAD
READ THE LAST LINE OF THE LAST STORY!

“I can truthfully say I never dreamed a magazine could contain
what I call 100 per cent stories. The thing that is worrying
me now is the long wait until next month and the arrival of
the next issue. Dear Mr. Editor, why not a weekly? It is the
ONE magazine I wish were a daily! I am going to boost it
to all my friends, as I am sure they will be glad I called
their attention to it.... I feel you have undertaken a brave
proposition, and there must be many thousands of others who
will await its arrival just as anxiously as I.

“In conclusion, let me thank you for your dauntless courage
and express the sincere hope that you may never weaken. Always
count me as one of your very best boosters for this absolutely
wonderful magazine, and always believe me to be

“One who admires courage and determination,

“L. William Pitzer,

“Director, Girard Avenue Theatre Co., Philadelphia.”

That serves very neatly for a starter, does it not? In fact, we doubt if the Editor himself could have written a more fervid panegyric! Mr. Pitzer, we gather, is even more feverishly absorbed in WEIRD TALES than we are—and we thought we were rather interested in it. What he says about publishing it every week is interesting, but as for a _daily_—Heaven help us! The man doesn’t live who could do it!

Of compelling charm is the following communication, postmarked Vera Cruz, Mexico, from Charles M. Boone, Third Officer of the Steamship _Yumuri_:

“Editor, WEIRD TALES: I, acting on a ‘hunch,’ purchased your
March issue in Brooklyn, along with other reading matter for
sea use, and your publication was so far in advance of the
others that I could not resist a letter to you expressing my
appreciation and wishing WEIRD TALES a long and prosperous
voyage on the sea of literature, and with just such precious
cargo as is carried in the March issue.

“I work and live on the Yumuri, a tramp steamer out of New
Orleans. New Orleans, as you know, was requisitioned by you
people ‘up there,’ some years ago, to fasten the other end of
the I. C. R. R. to, and now New Orleans requisitions us to
carry your freight away as rapidly as possible so that you
can’t push her overboard into the Gulf by using said railroad
as a handspike. You can gather from this that at present I have
no fixed address for mailing purposes, such as I would need to
have you mail WEIRD TALES to me regularly, but I am enclosing
price of April number, and if you will kindly have same mailed
to me at address given I’ll feel greatly obliged, and can
arrange with some newsdealer in New Orleans to save an issue
for me each month.

“Your magazine (the only copy on board) is slowly making the
rounds of the ship. So far, everybody is favorably impressed,
except the cat and the goat, and those who have not read it are
lined up awaiting their turn. At present the Old Man (skipper)
is locked in his cabin, submerged in ‘A Dead Man’s Tale,’ and
he swears he will shoot anyone that interrupts him. As he is a
veteran of four wars, has a .45 Colts, a bad ‘rep,’ and is able
to swear in every known (and several unknown) tongues, it is a
pretty safe bet that he won’t be disturbed, and that you will
have another ‘fan’ as soon as he comes up for air.

“It has given the first officer, Mr. Henkleman, the ‘jimmies.’
Mr. Weeks, the second officer, joins me in expressing his
appreciation of your efforts, and wishes me to say to you
that he will gladly do anything in his power to further the
interests of your publication.... Our mess boy says you ought
to be arrested. You see, he stole some time off to read Mr.
Rud’s yarn. He was supposed to be on duty, but was found by the
steward (his immediate superior) in an unused state room (where
he thought he would be safe from discovery) while deep in the
story. The steward threw the door open suddenly—just as the
boy reached the climax—and I guess he thought one of Mr. Rud’s
monsters had him!

“WEIRD TALES is doing good on board, too. We have had a little
trouble in getting one hombre to respond quickly to fire and
boat drill signal. Today the alarm was sounded while he was in
the midst of a yarn, and, although his quarters are far removed
from Assembly, he beat every mother’s son to the lifeboats. We
have a cargo of gunpowder and dynamite on board, consigned to
Vera Cruz, where this letter will be mailed, and that may have
helped some, but I believe that your magazine was the prime
impulse....”

There is a good deal more to the foregoing letter, but at least we’ve quoted enough to show that all on board the _Yumuri_, except the goat and cat, seem to be enjoying WEIRD TALES—and when the crew and officers are through with it they’ll probably throw it at the cat or feed it to the goat. Seafaring men, as a rule, are excellent judges of fiction; wherefore the praise of Third Officer Boone pleases us immensely.

Here’s a breezy digest of the March issue from George F. Morgan, 680 North Vine Street, Hazleton, Pennsylvania:

“Dear Editor of Hair-Exercising Tales: The other evening,
while looking over some magazines at my favorite book store,
I happened to notice your March issue of WEIRD TALES, and the
title at once seemed to strike me as being something different,
so I immediately bade a genuine American quarter good-by and
took a copy along home with me. I wish to state right now that
I got two-dimes-and-a-nickel’s worth of well-balanced thrills
out of that issue and would be willing to pay the war tax on it
also.

“‘The Dead Man’s Tale’ was real interesting, and it is only
too true that stories of that type are nearly as scarce as
the guinea pig’s tail. The terrible creature in ‘Ooze’ was as
horrible if not worse than some of the snakes in home-made
Booze. Dad lost two nights’ sleep trying to figure out what
‘The Thing of a Thousand Shapes’ could really be. Guess he’ll
have to wait till April, like the rest of us poor guessers.

“‘The Mystery of Black Jean’ sure was a bear of a story, but it
is sad that the notorious hero should end up in a lime factory.
Uncle Mart (who works in the coal mines) read ‘The Grave,’ and
it sure must have scared him, because he is now working outside
in the weather. Baby let the rattle fall while Ma was reading
‘Hark! The Rattle!’ and it took all the smelling salts on hand
to bring her to.

“It’s a good idea to have lots of lamps in the room before
beginning a story like ‘The Ghost Guard,’ and be sure they
are filled with a good grade of oil, ’cause if they should go
out in the middle of such a story Lord only knows what would
happen! Stories like ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse’ have the same
effect on your back as twenty below zero. Ma read ‘Weaving
Shadows’ out loud, and sister’s beau went home at ten-thirty.
Sister wondered why he didn’t stay till twelve, as was his
custom.

“Dad gave our copy of WEIRD TALES to the neighbor’s kids, and
Mrs. Murphy is still wondering why they get the evening supply
of coal up from the cellar so early.”

Quite a family affair, we’ll say; and (assuming that George isn’t kidding us) isn’t it amazing how much disturbance a single copy of W. T. can create in a peaceful neighborhood?

Especially gratifying to the business office (likewise to your Ed.) are letters such as this:

“Dear sir: The other day, as I stopped at a nearby newsstand, I
noticed a copy of the March issue of WEIRD TALES. As I am much
interested in the type of story which this magazine presents,
and continually on the lookout for new magazines of all kinds,
I immediately bought one.

“‘Do you know,’ said the dealer, ‘it is surprising how that
magazine has sold. I took six copies this morning, wondering if
they would sell. You have just bought the sixth. Next time I
can judge my order better.’

“I have read the issue, and I wish to congratulate you on your
initiative in putting before the reading public stories such
as it is almost impossible to obtain elsewhere. Several of my
friends, who have picked up the copy, after reading some of
the stories, have expressed their approval and wishes for a
continued success.

“James P. Marshall,
“409 Marlboro Street, Boston, Mass.”

Thanks! If there is any one thing that pleases us more than printing exceptional stories in WEIRD TALES it is the news that a dealer is selling _all_ his quota. It wounds us grievously to see unsold copies returned.

Earl L. Bell of Augusta, Georgia, writes us:

“Dear Mr. Baird: Just a few lines to tell you how I enjoyed
the natal issue of WEIRD TALES. For years I have been looking
for just such a periodical. I’m tired of reading magazines
that cater to the type of stuff that milady likes to read as
she lies in bed, holds the periodical with one hand and feeds
chocolates to a poodle with the other.

“I have often remarked that Poe’s stories, if written today
instead of many years ago, would be dubbed pure rot by most of
the American magazines. The editors admit that Poe’s horror
tales are among the most gripping stories ever penned. Then why
is it they taboo such stories today?

“I think you have the right trail. Especially thrilling and
well-written were ‘The Ghoul and the Corpse’ and ‘The Young
Man Who Wanted to Die.’ For sheer imagery, word-pictures and
mastery of style, both stories reached perihelion.”

We, too, have often wondered why other magazines shun the sort of stories that we gladly accept; and it is not unlikely that if Poe were living today he would find no market for his work except in WEIRD TALES. The reason for this we do not know (and we don’t know that we care a damn), but we do know this: In editing WEIRD TALES we follow no precedent, bow to no custom, honor no tradition. When we took this job we chucked all those things in the waste-basket and told the janitor to dump them in the rubbish heap. We started out to blaze a new path in magazine literature, and we’re going to do it, or die in the effort.

And while we’re on this topic we must quote a few lines in a letter from Professor George W. Crane of the Department of Psychology at Northwestern University:

“Dear sir: I am writing to express my keen appreciation of
WEIRD TALES. I read some months ago that it was to be published
soon, and I looked forward with great interest toward reading
the first number. It answers a definite lack in modern magazine
fiction, and one which is wholesome.

“The type of story which you feature is not immoral, but is
very stimulating, and forms a pleasing diversion to me from
heavier and more abstract material. Mr. Rud’s tale, ‘Ooze,’ is
extremely bizarre, and I am recommending it to my colleague in
the faculty of the Department of Zoology. I will predict, from
the analysis of human interests, that WEIRD TALES will have a
tremendous success.”

We need only add that Professor Crane is a gifted prophet; for his prediction is rapidly being fulfilled.

Equally germane to the subject we’re discussing is the following letter from Edward Schultz, 335 Delaware Avenue, Buffalo, New York:

“Dear sir: I have had the pleasure of very recently discovering
your delightful publication, WEIRD TALES. I do not know whether
it is the first issue or not, but I do know that I shall never
miss a future issue if the March number is any standard of
those to follow. Of about twenty or more periodicals to which I
subscribe, WEIRD TALES is the only one that I somehow find time
to read from cover to cover.

“Being a great admirer of the late Edgar Allen Poe, whose
works I have read many times over, I was more than agreeably
surprised to find his matchless style abound in WEIRD TALES.

“Allow me to congratulate you on your innovation, which I shall
heartily recommend to my friends. But please keep it as it
is—keep out plain and overworked stuff about detectives, wild
west, etc. There are a great number of us who want weirdness to
the nth power in our recreational reading. I shall eagerly look
forward to the April issue.”

* * * * *

We’ve just grabbed another fistful of letters, and the first one we open is this:

“Dear sir: At last a fiction magazine that is different!
Congratulations! You are correct—people do like to read this
kind of fiction.

“You asked us to mention the stories we liked and those we
didn’t like so well. I enjoyed, in their order, ‘The Thing of a
Thousand Shapes,’ which still has me in suspense, ‘The Place of
Madness,’ ‘The Weaving Shadows,’ ‘The Grave,’ ‘The Skull,’ ‘The
Extraordinary Experiment of Dr. Calgroni.’

“‘The Basket,’ I thought rather pointless. The plot of ‘Ooze’
excellent, but just a trifle above the average reader to
understand in detail. ‘The Chain’ was too long drawn out.

“And do give us less of unfaithful wives and husbands. I may
seem too critical, perhaps, but let me say that I wish the
magazine were published twice a month, for how refreshing to
find that interesting stories can be written without ‘love
interest.’ Please leave that to the movies and to the countless
other magazines.”—S. A. N.

And the next is from Richard P. Israel, 620 Riverside Drive, New York City:

“Dear Sir: Have just finished reading your new magazine, WEIRD
TALES, and would like to say it’s a peach. It is just the kind
that wakes a man up after he has put in a hard day’s work....
Could you possibly run some snappy, spooky baseball stories? I
am sure that almost everybody will like them, baseball being
our national game.”

We don’t remember ever seeing anything spooky in baseball; and yet—who knows?—perhaps Mr. Israel can tell us something about the ghosts that haunt the Cubs.

A. L. Richard, 9234 Cottage Grove Avenue, Chicago, knows what he likes and doesn’t like, and he doesn’t hesitate to speak right out in meeting. As witness:

“Dear Mr. Baird: May I congratulate you as a delighted reader
of your excellent magazine? You can not wish more for its
success than I do, for I have long felt the need of such a
periodical. So much of the mental feed given us by other
editors is fit only for infants. We red-blooded men want
something that stirs the sterner emotions. We want to be scared
stiff. Too many of us think nothing can make us afraid; your
stories will fill us with terror. Some of us are too lazy and
sleep more than we should; your tales will keep us awake more
of the time and thus give us more pep and vim, and makes our
lives worth living.

“Most of the stories in your first number are excellent; some
few rather indifferent. To my mind the best were ‘The Dead
Man’s Tale,’ ‘Ooze,’ ‘The Extraordinary Experiment of Dr.
Calgroni’ (although the transferring of a brain from one person
to another was done some time ago in another story) and ‘The
Skull.’ ‘Hark! the Rattle!’ I thought a trifle too rhetorical
and exclamatory; ‘Nimba, the Cave Girl’ not properly a weird
tale; ‘The Ghost Guard’ not quite convincing; and ‘The Sequel’
no improvement on Poe.

“But these are my own personal likes and dislikes; I have no
doubt that many others of your readers preferred the very
tales that did not impress me. On the whole, you are to be
felicitated on your venture, and I hope that WEIRD TALES will
enjoy enormous sales. If most people think as I do, it will.”

Analytical, too, is Miss Violet Olive Johnson, who writes to us from Portland, Oregon:

“I think ‘The Accusing Voice’ is of the best, because the
denouement is so unexpected, yet so logical. I liked ‘Hark! the
Rattle’ on account of its touch of fantasy. ‘The Dead Man’s
Tale’ was a masterpiece, I thought. And it’s right in line with
modern spiritualism, too. It conveys quite a definite lesson in
regeneration, even if it does deal with a disembodied spirit. I
agree with Anthony M. Rud, in The Eyrie, that such a magazine
as WEIRD TALES is not only clean, but contains the ingredients
of wholesome, moral lessons. And it certainly is unique and
hair-raising. I didn’t experience a dull moment!”

At the risk of emulating the talented authors of patent medicine almanacs and overlapping the space vouchsafed The Eyrie, we must quote a few brief excerpts from a few of the letters we got in that second grab:

“... Some of the tales made me shiver when I read them here
alone at night.... Two things in particular I like about your
magazine: the very large number of short stories and the fact
that there is only one serial.... But there is one thing I
don’t favor: the sensational, blood-and-thunder titles of some
of the stories. Something like ‘The Accusing Voice,’ ‘The
Place of Madness,’ ‘The Weaving Shadows,’ is ‘woolly’ enough
for most of us, I should say. ‘The Skull,’ ‘The Ghoul and the
Corpse,’ ‘The Grave,’ are all too—you see what I mean?”—F. L.
K., Indianapolis.

“I have just finished the first installment of ‘The Thing of
a Thousand Shapes.’ It is fine, and any one who has a good
imagination should not ‘start it late at night.’ I want to
congratulate you on your fine magazine.”—Victor Wilson, Hazen,
Pa.

“... Just finished reading the first number, and I agree with
Mr. Anthony M. Rud that this magazine should be welcomed by
the public. I have often wondered why it was that the ordinary
magazine would not publish out-of-the-ordinary stories—that is,
stories of the occult or weird.... One thing I know: the name
of Edgar Allen Poe will live long after the names of some of
the writers of commonplace fiction are forgotten.”—J. O. O’C.,
Raleigh, N. C.

“... May I add my congratulations on the success of your work
which resulted in that first number of WEIRD TALES? To choose
a name for a new magazine and then live up to that name so
thoroughly is hardly ever done so well. I shall look for future
numbers of the magazine with interest.”—R. M., St. Petersburg,
Fla.

“... Truly, I never read such weird tales before, and I am
anxious to read more....”—Harry M. Worth, Brooklyn, N. Y.

“... It offers the utmost in thrilling fiction and a
pleasurable excursion from this land of realism. I wish you the
greatest success and am looking forward anxiously to your next
copy.”—Mrs. Glenn Thompson Cummings, Lansing, Mich.

“I am a lover of all fiction that deals with the
supernatural.... I eagerly devoured your March issue from
cover to cover.... The story that impressed me the most
was ‘The Ghost Guard,’ as it was a combination of the
practical and supernatural, blended together in an exciting
narrative....”—Dean Smith.

“... I am a soldier in the Coast Artillery and am stationed on
an island twenty-five miles from land.... The news company
that furnishes our post exchange with magazines sent one copy
of your magazine, and I bought it right away.... I think it is
the best book I ever read.... You have made a wonderful start,
and if they are all as good each month you may be sure I will
never miss a copy....”—Private R. S. Bray, 133d Co. Detachment,
Fort Terry, N. Y.

When we began writing the copy for this month’s Eyrie we thought we’d end it with some pertinent remarks on a matter that has aroused our curiosity—to-wit: the preponderance of cats and Chinamen in weird literature—but we’ll have to let it go. No space. You’ll find it in The Eyrie for June, however.

You will also find, in the June WEIRD TALES, some of the most amazing short stories and novelettes that ever swam into our ken. Three of them in particular we earnestly recommend. They are more startling than any we’ve ever published—and we can’t say more than that.

THE EDITOR.

* * * * *

Finding “The Fountain of Youth”

_A Long-Sought Secret, Vital to Happiness, Has Been Discovered._

_By H. M. Stunz_

_Alas! that spring should vanish with the rose!_
_That youth’s sweet-scented manuscript should close!_
—OMAR KHAYYAM.

A secret vital to human happiness has been discovered. An ancient problem which, sooner or later, affects the welfare of virtually every man and woman, has been solved. As this problem undoubtedly will come to you eventually, if it has not come already, I urge you to read this article carefully. It may give you information of a value beyond all price.

This newly-revealed secret is not a new “philosophy” of financial success. It is not a political panacea. It has to do with something of far greater moment to the individual—success and happiness in love and marriage—and there is nothing theoretical, imaginative or fantastic about it, because it comes from the coldly exact realms of science and its value has been proved. It “works.” And because it does work—surely, speedily and most delightfully—it is one of the most important discoveries made in many years. Thousands already bless it for having rescued them from lives of disappointment and misery. Millions will rejoice because of it in years to come.

The peculiar value of this discovery is that it removes physical handicaps which, in the past, have been considered inevitable and irremediable. I refer to the loss of youthful animation and a waning of the vital forces. These difficulties have caused untold unhappiness—failures, shattered romances, mysterious divorces. True happiness does not depend on wealth, position or fame. Primarily, it is a matter of health. Not the inefficient, “half-alive” condition which ordinarily passes as “health,” but the abundant, vibrant, magnetic vitality of superb manhood and womanhood.

Unfortunately, this kind of health is rare. Our civilization, with its wear and tear, rapidly depletes the organism and, in a physical sense, old age comes on when life should be at its prime.

But this is not a tragedy of our era alone. Ages ago a Persian poet, in the world’s most melodious epic of pessimism, voiced humanity’s immemorial complaint that “spring should vanish with the rose” and the song of youth too soon come to an end. And for centuries before Omar Khayyam wrote his immortal verses, science had searched—and in the centuries that have passed since then has continued to search—without halt, for the fabled “fountain of youth,” an infallible method of renewing energy lost or depleted by disease, overwork, worry, excesses or advancing age.

Now the long search has been rewarded. A “fountain of youth” has been found! Science announces unconditionally that youthful vigor can be restored quickly and safely. Lives clouded by weakness can be illumined by the sunlight of health and joy. Old age, in a sense, can be kept at bay and youth made more glorious than ever. And the discovery which makes these amazing results possible is something any man or woman, young or old, can easily use in the privacy of the home, unknown to relative, friend or acquaintance.

The discovery had its origin in famous European laboratories. Brought to America, it was developed into a product that has given most remarkable results in thousands of cases, many of which had defied all other treatments. In scientific circles the discovery has been known and used for several years and has caused unbounded amazement by its quick, harmless, gratifying action. Now in convenient tablet form, under the name of Korex compound, it is available to the general public.

Any one who finds the youthful stamina ebbing, life losing its charm and color or the feebleness of old age coming on too soon, can obtain a double-strength treatment of this compound, sufficient for ordinary cases, under a positive guarantee that it costs nothing if it fails and only $2 if it produces prompt and gratifying results. In average cases, the compound often brings about amazing benefits in from twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

Simply write in confidence to the Melton Laboratories, 833 Massachusetts Bldg., Kansas City, Mo., and this wonder restorative will be mailed to you in a plain wrapper. You may enclose $2 or, if you prefer, just send your name without money and pay the postman $2 and postage when the parcel is delivered. In either case, if you report after a week that the Korex compound has not given satisfactory results, your money will be refunded immediately. The Melton Laboratories are nationally known and thoroughly reliable. Moreover, their offer is fully guaranteed, so no one need hesitate to accept it. If you need this remarkable scientific rejuvenator, write for it today.

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CATARRH

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* * * * *

_How My Wife Learned to Play the Piano in 90 Days_

A husband’s story of the fulfillment of a life-long wish—by a new, easy, spare-time method which has brought the joy of music into thousands of silent homes.

From boyhood, I vowed that if ever I had a home of my own there would be music in it. No wife for me unless she could play some instrument, and play it well. My new home must have no dull, bored evenings, no monotonous Sunday afternoons. I wanted the gaiety, the mental and physical stimulus, the whole-hearted, genuine joy of music. No girl could capture me without the lure of musical skill.

But one day Beth came along knowing not one note from another, yet with a merry, humming tune forever on her lips, and a song in her heart for me. And Beth is Mrs. Taylor today. A piano graced our new home, but somehow the old vow was forgotten, and stayed forgotten until Jimmy Jr., and Beth No. 2 were quite some youngsters.

Then along about the time the novelty of parenthood began to wear off a bit, the old vow came back. And one evening I spoke out with a suddenness that surprised me, “Beth, I’d give a hundred dollars if you could play something—a piano, violin, banjo, ukulele—something, _anything_.” Beth looked so hurt I was immediately ashamed of myself, so I said no more, and the matter dropped, as I thought regretfully, forever.

About three months later I got home early one night, and I heard the old dead piano come to life—sounded good, too, first a little jazzy piece, then a sweet plantation melody. “Company to supper; I wonder who?” I thought; and I crept to the parlor door to see. There at the piano was _Beth_ playing, and the two kiddies beating time. She saw me, and stopped, “Oh,” she cried, “I’m so sorry!” “Believe me, I’m not,” I shouted, and I grabbed the whole family up in my arms.

“But, Jim, I wanted to wait and surprise you when I could really play. I’m learning fast, but it’s only three months since I found out”—“Found out what?” I said. Beth began to cry. “I know!” Jimmy, Jr., piped up, “Mother found out the way to learn music just like I am learning to read in school—only lots easier.”

Well, that little musical party lasted all the evening. It was a howling success. When the kiddies had gone singing to bed, my wife showed me the marvelous new method by which she had learned to play in three months’ spare time.

Jimmy Jr. had told the truth; the method was so simple and easy that any one at all from 8 years up could learn by it. By this method the U. S. School of Music, the largest in the world, has already trained over three hundred thousand people, teaching the playing of any musical instrument almost in the same way a school-child learns to read. But very much faster because older children and grown people have better trained minds, and know how to study and think.

When first learning to read you look at every letter separately and spell out every word, c-a-t, m-a-n. Later you do not see the letters; you see the words as units, “cat,” “man.” By and by longer words become units to you, and you find that whole _expressions_, like “up the steps,” “on the train,” no longer are seen as separate words, but immediately, at one instant, without spelling, without thinking words, you see each expression in the unit form.

This skill in seeing in units develops until you see and know as units hundreds of long familiar phrases; and it is even entirely possible, if you wish, to easily increase your reading speed four or five times the average, grasping paragraph thoughts complete, sensing a whole page instantly, recognizing every part, registering and remembering all, with your pleasure exactly the same as the slower reader.

The same easy understanding and complete enjoyment is similarly a part of the new way. The alphabet of music follows the alphabet of language. Each note is a letter, and playing is practically spelling the notes together correctly. The first note on the staff above is F. Whether you sing or play, it is always F. The four notes shown above are F-A-C-E, easy to remember because they spell “face.” Certain strings on mandolin, certain keys on piano, certain parts of all instruments, are these same notes. Once you learn them, playing melodies is a matter of _acting_ what you _see_.

And here is where “familiar phrases” come in—the “big secret.” It is so simple you probably have already guessed it. The “familiar phrases” of music are its harmonies. Just as you instantly recognize the countless phrases of speech, so the relatively few of music are quickly a habit with you. You play almost before you realize it—and every step is real fun, fascinating, simple, interesting, almost too good to be true.

Remember, neither my wife nor most of the 300,000 other musicians trained by this method knew anything about music. Beth mastered the piano; she could just as easily have mastered anything else. Jimmy, Jr., is now taking up violin, and my daughter is learning singing. Right at home, no costly teacher, no classes at inconvenient hours, no useless study and practice. No numbers, no tricks, no makeshifts. But instead a sound musical education learning by notes. The intricacies of music reduced to a most amazing simplicity able to develop the inborn talent, which is a part of every person on this earth.

When I told Beth I was writing this out to put in a magazine she told me to be sure and say that the school will gladly send a free book explaining everything, called “Music Lessons in Your Own Home,” and that right now there is a special short time Reduced Price Offer being made to music lovers. The book is free; asking for it obligates you not at all, but you should send for it right away before all copies may be gone.

JAMES W. TAYLOR.

SUCCESS

“Since I’ve been taking your lessons I’ve made over $200 with my violin. Your lessons surely are fine.”—Melvin Freeland, Macopin, N. J.

“When I started with you I knew nothing about the Cornet or music, but now I can play almost any piece of music.”—Kasson Swan, Denmark, Col. Co., Nova Scotia.

“I want to extend the heartiest approval of your Piano Course. It has done more for me than years of other lessons.”—Moxie N. Lewis, 319 Jefferson, Neosho, Mo.

WHICH INSTRUMENT

do you want to learn how to play the new, quick way? Courses for beginners or advanced pupils.

Piano
Organ
Violin
Banjo
Clarinet
Flute
Harp
Cornet
Cello
Guitar
Hawaiian
Mandolin
Drums and Traps
Harmony and Composition
Sight Singing
Ukulele
Piccolo
Trombone
Saxophone
Steel Guitar
Voice and Speech Culture
Automatic Finger Control

Mr. Taylor is enthusiastic. He has a right to be. Yet when you read the facts in our book you will appreciate that his opinion is _conservative_. You, too, can learn your favorite instrument or to sing.

Mail the coupon below to the U. S. School of Music, 405 Brunswick Building, New York City. Or send a postcard. But act at once. Do not delay.

Please write name and address plainly so that there will be no difficulty in booklet reaching you.

U. S. School of Music,
405 Brunswick Bldg., New York City

Please send your free book, “Music Lessons in Your Own Home,”
and particulars of your special offer. I am interested in the
following course:

______________________________
Name of Instrument or Course

Name _________________________
Please write plainly

Address ______________________

City___________ State_________

* * * * *

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