VOLUME 1x 5 NUMBER 3 Published monthly by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2457 E. Wi ington Btreot, Indlanapoli, Ind, Entered as second-class matter Murch 20, 1923, at the postofice at Indianapolis, Ind, under the act of March 3, 1873, Single copies, 25 centa. Subscription, $2.50 a year in the United States ; $3.00 a year in Canada, English office: G. M. Jeffries Agency, Hopefeld House, Hanwell, London, W. 7. ‘The publishers ‘are not responsible for the loss of unsolicited manuscripts, although every care will be taken of such material while in their possession. ‘The contents of this magazine are fully protected by copyright and must not be reproduced either wholly or in part without permission from the publishers. NOTE_All manuscripts and communications should be addressed to the publishers’ Chteago office at 450 Kast Ohio Strevt, Chicago, Ill, FARNSWORTH WRIGHT, Editor. Copyright, 1927, by the Popular Fiction Publishing Company Contents for March, 1927 Cover Design Mllustrating a scene from “The City of Glass” The City of Glass --Joel Martin Nichols, Jr. 293 A thrilling weird-scientific story of a race of Atlanteans in the African desert—and the Battle of the Fungi Tae Blood-Flower _Seabury Quinn 317 Jules de Grandin runs into an exciting werewolf adventure, and uncovers « spell for lycanthropy --C. C. Senf The Seventh Symphony Victor Rousseau 331 The seventh in a series of stories, cach complete in itself, detting with Dr, Ivan Brodsky, “The Surgeon of Souls” Evolution Island - _-Edmond Hamilton 387 Brilting looses a spawning horror on the world, threatening to wipe out all life, animal and human (Continued on Next Page) 7 ToeERIGHTCD IN GREAT TITAIN(Contisued from Preceding Page) A Requiem -.. Versa Soul-Catcher -_--...-..----------. When Old John could not save the bodies of the emergency cases that came to him, he drained off their souls The Specter -. -Miles J. Breuer Verse The Greatest Gift... annsen. ---Eli Colter Throughout the ages Lenore Andless paid in anguish of soul for a moment of cruel pride --.--------A. Leslie Sewell Peaslee Wright A strange tale of double personality—the possession of one body by more than one personality The Sacred Jars -_.. Oscar Cook The spirit of Glister walked by night, for the sacred buckle had been stolen from his grave—a tale of Borneo The White Ship. He sailed into the boundless sea, beyond the boundaries of fabled Cathuria, and strange was his voyage John Martin Leahy A five-part sérial novel about a weird voyage into the bowels of the earth under Mt, Rainier, amid strange monsters Weird Story Reprint ---Leonid Andreyeff Strange was the personality of Lazarus after he rose from the dead—and weird was the gaze of his eyes William Shakespeare A chat with the readers Wor Advertising Rates in WELID TALES Apply Direct to WEIRD TALES Western Advertning OBtee: Eastern Advertising Offices WEIRD 1. alo ur Obi Bireet Chicago, 1, Phone, Superior’ 588The White Ship By H. P. LOVECRAFT AM Basil Elton, keeper of the North Point light that my father and grandfather kept before me. Far from the shore stands the gray lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are seen when the tide is low, but unseen when the tide is high. Past that beacon for a century have swept the majestic barques of the seven seas. In the days of my grandfather there were many; in the days of my father not so many; and now there are so few that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as though I were the last man on our planet. From far shores came those white- sailed argosies of old; from far East- ern shores where warm suns shine and sweet odors linger about strange gardens and gay temples. The old captains of the sea came often to my grandfather and told him of these things which in turn he told to my father, and my father told to me in the long autumn evenings when the wind howled eerily from the East. And I have read more of these things, and of many things besides, in the books men gave me when I was young and filled with wonder. But more wonderful than the lore of old men and the lore of books is the secret lore of ocean. Blue, green, gray, white or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not si- lent. All my days have I watched it and listened to it, and I know it well. At first it told to me only the plain little tales of calm beaches and near ports, but with the years it grew more friendly and spoke of other things; of things more strange and more distant in space and in time. Sometimes at twilight the gray vapors of the hori- zon have parted to grant me glimpses of the ways beyond; and sometimes at night the deep waters of the sea have grown clear and phosphorescent, to grant me glimpses of the ways be- neath. And these glimpses have been as often of the ways that were and the ways that might be, as of the ways that are; for ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time. Out of the South it was that the White Ship used to come when the moon was full and high in the heav- ens. Out of the South it would glide very smoothly and silently over the sea. And whether the sea was rough or calm, and whether the wind was friendly or adverse, it would always glide smoothly and silently, its sails distant and its long strange tiers of oars moving rhythmically. One night I espied upon the deck a man, beard- ed and robed, and he seemed to beck- on me to embark for fair unknown shores. Many times afterward I saw him under the full moon, and ever did he beckon me, Very brightly did the moon shine on the night I answered the call, and I walked out over the waters to the White Ship on a bridge of moon- beams. The man who had beckoned now spoke a welcome to me in a soft language I seemed to know well, and the hours were filled with soft songs of the oarsmen as we glided away in- to a mysterious South, golden with the glow of that full, mellow moon. And when the day dawned, rosy and effulgent, I beheld the green shore of far lands, bright and beauti- ful, and to me unknown. Up from