Summing it up, Miss Editor, you who once declared you had none of the qualifications of an editor, it seems to me you have been doing rather well. We don’t want you to stand still—_you_ can’t do that—or to stop trying. Please, for our sake, keep it up. Casting a Slur Upon What? _Ruth C. Sweeney, Chicago_: I simply cannot understand how a person who could write such a beautiful thing as your poem, _Life_, could allow _The Nymph_ to appear in _The Little Review_. How can you hope to encourage Art when you will print such a thing? I have noticed these free-thinkers, and with the casting aside of “forms that have to be respected” has gone whatever taste they had. They gulp down everything, provided it casts a slur upon something. Does one have to lose all his finer sensibilities because he wishes to be free and open minded? I have thought of you people when Nietzsche says, “Sensualists are they now become—a trouble and a terror is the hero to them.” I join with you in your cry of blank pages if _The Nymph_ is the alternative. * * * * * Give over reading Nietzsche for a bit; you belong in the primary class. The person who wrote _The Nymph_ has a background of life, if not of Art. And your hero? “A Trouble and a Terror” would make him appear the villain.—_jh._ Why Editors Go Insane _Alice Groff, Philadelphia_: I am going to tear to pieces your “A Real Magazine.” No one ever _reaches_ the “Ideal.” The moment he does, there has ceased to _be_ an “_Ideal_.” Our ideal is an ever-advancing goal. Art is the embodiment of the human ideal—which ideal is the ever-advancing goal of human life. Art is _not_ the ultimate reason for Life. Life _is_,—for its own sake. Life lives for the ideal—for the ever-advancing goal, which embodies itself in Art—that Life may become ever more and more abundant _life_. Life continually seeks to express its absolute essence in Art, and it will never cease this seeking through all eternity. Such expression will always be compelled by the aspiration to reach the ever-advancing goal—the Ideal which will continually incarnate, and reincarnate, itself in an ever-renewing body—Art. Art is the incarnation of the Ideal—the shed Chrysalis. The Ideal is the Psyche—continually wending its way toward a new goal and a new Chrysalis (which it continually sheds, leaving with us its mortal part only—Art.) Facts About the Preparedness Bomb Out here in the big West, a whooping, yelling mob of “Vigilante” business men is trying to wipe out the last labor union. Hiring an army of bristling gunmen for a spy- and strike-breaker system, they have slowly advanced from conquered Los Angeles to the siege of San Francisco.