Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 184: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Se Fe ee ee 308 - -PB Oo Editor c By the HE older one grows, the more wisdom one ‘is supposed to absorb. I say “ sup- posed,” because there is a certain element about added years that seems to make for prejudice against new things, innovations of any sort. What is the result? Slipping into a rut and sticking there until one becomes permeated by dry rot. Long-time readers of THE ArGosy can vouch for it how sedulously this magazine has avoided that sort of thing. Started back in 1882, change after change has been made in the publication to keep it up with the times, and the spirit of youth has ever been present in dictating the editorial policy. What is the result? Success perches upon its banner, and its friends can be counted among those of all ages who receive its weekly visits with joy all over the world, as the date-lines on Log-Book letters will testify. Fe Poa yd Imagine, if you will, Cleopatra, Circe, Delilah, and all the rest of the beguiling women of old times—then add a touch of Cesar, Napoleon, and Captain Kidd—and you have a fairly accurate composite of— “PRINCESS OF PLUNDER” | BY C. ELEANOR SPEARS and RAYMOND S. SPEARS It is warrant enough to say that this is by the authors of “ Islands of Stone,” that strangely captivating romance of the wild whick earned so deserved a popularity. The same breadth is here—the same vision—the same splendid handling of men and situations and nature at its ripest and fullest and best and worst. It may also serve as a fillip to your interest to say that in the hands of these capable craftsmen, even so prosaic a thing as an inventory, for instance, may be interesting—and exciting. This story will be published as a five-part serial in THE Arcosy, beginning September 20. Bd M St Into a pit as deep as the average sky-scraper is tall; a pit of blackness at whose bottom there sounded the rushing thunder of an avalanche of water—this was his introduction to— “THE HOODOO MINE” BY GEORGE C. JENKS Author of “ Net Aecording to Queensbury,” “ Fathoms Deep,” ete. For in those whispering galleries of dread there abode a mystery, coiled, like a striking snake, a menace as treacherous and -deadly as the hand and brain that devised it, ruthless, implacable. The withered hand—the black curse? Perhaps. At least 359 : EComicbooks (C@)