Wright has bought "The Cyclops of Xoatl," featuring Two-Gun Bart Leslie and his pursuit of a cannibal monster in Mexico. The tale is by E. Hoffmann Price and Otis Adelbert Kline.... The two are now planning a story of Burma, about leopard men.... Pierre d'Artois, Price's veteran swordsman, is more or less a picture of his old fencing-master of long ago during his academic days.... Price says about "Queen of the Lilin": I ploughed through a good deal of research in order to present Lilith authentically. A good deal of the Lilith lore had to be cut out in the interests of brevity, which I regretted, as I felt that some of the fans would enjoy a closer acquaintance with the fascinating Queen of Zemargad. R. H. Barlow is in Washington taking treatment for his eyes. He is also taking a light art course at the Corcoran Gallery. Alonzo Leonard, who appeared sometime ago in "Believe It Or Not" for inventing a private language, is an authority on cults, ancient languages, superstitions, and strange beliefs. He has compiled a set of "books," 48 volumes, of all strange happenings and things of unusual nature. The collection is called "Encyclopedia Satanic." FUNGI FROM YUGGOTH by H. P. Lovecraft (Hitherto Unpublished Verses) III. The Key I do not know what windings in the waste Of those strange sea-lanes brought me home once more, But on my porch I trembled, white with haste To get inside and bolt the heavy door. I had the book that told the hidden way Across the void and through the space-hung screens That hold the undimensioned worlds at bay, And keep lost aeons to their own demesnes. At last the key was mine to those vague visions Of sunset spires and twilight woods that brood Dim in the gulfs beyond this earth's precisions, Lurking as memories of infinitude. The key was mine, but as I sat there mumbling, The attic window shook with a faint fumbling. V. Homecoming The daemon said that he would take me home To the pale, shadow-land I half-recalled As a high place of stair and terrace, walled With marble balustrades that sky-winds comb, While miles below a maze of dome on dome And tower on tower beside a sea lies sprawled. Once more, he told me, I would stand enthralled On those old heights, and hear the far-off foam. All this he promised, and through sunset's gate He swept me, past the lapping lakes of flame, And red-gold thrones of gods without a name Who shriek in fear at some impending fate. Then a black gulf with sea-sounds in the night: "Here was your home," he mocked, "when you had sight!" * * * * * LATE REVENGE by Duane W. Rimel