By way of comparison Smith relieves himself of this matchless composition. “Your magazine will die,—as a steam engine would grow useless in which no direction towards any cylinder was given to the indubitable forces generated in the boiler.” What is the precise meaning of this bombastic twaddle? In homely words, it means that a steam engine is (not “would grow”) useless when the steam power developed in its boiler is not utilised in any cylinder. Anyone who examines this analogy will agree with me that Smith is a careful, serviceable, and accurate man. From the general Smith comes to the particular and quotes what he is pleased to call an example of my “ineptitude and carelessness” as an example of the general “ineptitude and carelessness” of THE LITTLE REVIEW. Without knowing anything as to the circumstances under which the wrongly attributed words found their way into print, without stopping to inquire to what extent I contributed to the mistake, and upon no other evidence whatsoever than the said wrongly attributed words, he proceeds to saddle me with the astounding intention “to obliterate all sense of accuracy, all love of clear and rational communication, all fidelity to honest statement, and all interest in truth” (which makes four ways of uttering the same inverifiable statement). Finally Smith challenges the editor of THE LITTLE REVIEW to print his ghastly ineptitude. She has taken the short way and done so. It serves Smith right. _M. Silverman, Chicago_: Your last issue is a failure—with two exceptions, Miss Goldman’s article on “Preparedness” and Mr. Hecht’s letter. Both of them are human, understandable, and sincere. They shout—but do not roar. All the others are ostentatious, plebeian, and lack artistic restraint. They are not beautiful. They _holler_ and produce a sense of heaviness and overexertion. Sympathy and politeness are apparently the cardinal virtues of the highly esteemed editor. Hence this “democratic” hash. To be more specific: Your editorial, “Toward Revolution,” is the acme of nonsense. I tried to take you seriously but I couldn’t. It is pamphletory, and should have no place in THE LITTLE REVIEW. “The Ecstasy of Pain” is a stage hurricane, and, to paraphrase Mr. Goldbeck, it is like Chicago: vast, but not impressive. It lacks artistic touch and symmetrical wholeness. The fourth paragraph is excellent. The rest was unnecessary. The fragmentary mind of Mr. Kaun is phosphorescent, produces tiny sparks which are soon lost in the darkness. Higher mathematics is the best remedy for Mr. Kaun’s mind. “The Spring Recital” is a bore. The author of _The “Genius”_ seems to have a mania for torturing the innocent public. I read “The Spring Recital” twice, yes twice; and when I got through with it I felt extremely uncomfortable. I don’t understand it and it doesn’t mean anything to me. I challenge anyone to explain to me: What does this piece of “dramatic” “quatch” mean? All the other articles—well, they are harmless.