Issue 1.2, May 1926

Thank You! editorial by Hugo Gernsback

A Trip to the Center of the Earth, chapters 1-15, by Jules Verne

Mesmeric Revelation, by Edgar Allan Poe

The Crystal Egg, by H.G. Wells

The Infinite Vision, by Charles C. Winn

The Man From the Atom, part 2, by G. Peyton Wertenbaker

Off on a Comet—or Hector Servadac, book 2, by Jules Verne

OUR COVER illustrates this month’s story, “The Crystal Egg”, by H.G. Wells. This is a supposed view of the planet Mars, as viewed by Mr. Cave through the Crystal Egg, from the earth.

Thank You!

by Hugo Gernsback, F.R.S.
May 1926 (1.2) p. 99.

The first issue of Amazing Stories has been on the newsstands only about a week, as we go to press with this, the second issue of the magazine; yet, even this short time, we have been deluged with an avalanche of letters of approval and constructive criticism from practically every section of the country, except the West—as we have not yet had time to hear from it.

We hereby take this medium to thank all our friends for their kind wishes and willingness to cooperate with us. We sincerely regret that we cannot answer each and every letter individually. There are simply too many letters—and we feel that our readers would rather we utilize our efforts in the improvement of the magazine.

After all, it is your paper, and we are striving hard to please you. Judging from the various comments, the first issue of Amazing Stories was just about right—the stories pleased and the length of the shorter stories and the division of the long ones seemed satisfactory.

And it was with a feeling of gratification that we noted the almost unanimous condemnation of the so-called “sex-appeal” type of story that seems so much in vogue in this country now. Most of our correspondents seemed to heave a great sigh of relief in at last finding a literature that appeals to the imagination, rather than carrying a sensational appeal to the emotions. It is that which justifies our new venture—our expenditure of time and money.

The letters, extracts from which are printed below, seem to best express the general trend of opinion.

A Trip to the Center of the Earth, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 1-15

by Jules Verne
Published in French as Voyage au centre de la Terre, 1864
Published in Amazing Stories, May 1926, pp. 100-123, 135.

INTRODUCTION. Having won the attention of the public with Five Weeks in a Balloon, Jules Verne wrote in rapid succession several truly masterly tales. Of these remarkable inventions of the human mind, A Trip to the Center of the Earth was the first to be completed in its present form. It was published in 1864, in a series of books by Verne, denominated “Voyages Extraordinaires.” This series, started in that year by the publisher Hetzel, has been continued to recent times.

This particular “Voyage” has sometimes been declared our author’s masterpiece. In it he for the first time gives free rein to that bold yet scientifically exact imagination whereby he has constructed for us in fancy the entire universe. There is nothing in all the daring visions of this tale which, even today our scientists would declare impossible. The interior of the earth is still unknown; and there may well be rifts, passages, descending from extinct volcanoes and penetrating far within. There may well be huge cavities, bubbles left in the cooling mass, vast enough to harbor inland seas, and shelter many of the ancient forms of life now extinct upon earth’s surface.

The main scientific objection to this, as indeed to most of the more fanciful of Verne’s tales, lies in the extravagant means he employs to bring his explorers home again from their reckless ventures. But, as romance obviously demands their return somehow, science discreetly accepts in silence the astonishing accidents and coincidences whereby they escape the doom they have invited.

In his immortal story, A Trip to the Center of the Earth, Jules Verne has quite outdone himself. Not only was Jules Verne a master of the imaginative type of fiction, but he was a scientist of high caliber. Besides this, his intimate knowledge of geography, the customs and peculiarities of the various races, made it possible for him to write with authority on any of these subjects. So when he takes us to the center of the earth, via the route through Iceland, we get the feeling that, somehow, the story is real, and this, after all, is the test of any good story.

Instead of boring a hole into the bowels of the earth, Jules Verne was probably the first to think of taking the reader to unexplored depths through the orifice of an extinct volcano. He argues, correctly, that a dead crater would prove not only the safest, but perhaps the best route for such exploration. No one has as yet explored the very center of the earth, for at no time have we descended deeper than about a mile below the surface of the planet. Who knows, therefore, but that there may be tremendous discoveries ahead of the human race, once we penetrate into the great depths of the globe?

We have no right to assume that life in the interior of the earth is an impossibility. When our deep sea expeditions come home with specimens of fish that live at the bottom of the ocean, and under what appear to be unendurable pressures, where logic would assume there could be no life, we should not judge harshly that there can be no life in the depths of the earth. If there is an entrance to a great unexplored cavity within our planet, you are free to believe that some form of life exists there. Living beings can get along without light, and it is possible that some sort of light of the phosphorescent order can be found there. And, besides, nature has a trick all its own of circumventing impossibilities, as is well witnessed in many deep sea fish, in depths where no light ever penetrates, where many of them are equipped with luminous eyes and other light-giving organs.

1. My Uncle Makes a Great Discovery

Looking back to all that has occurred to me since that eventful day, I am scarcely able to believe in the reality of my adventures. They were truly so wonderful that even now I am bewildered when I think of them.

My uncle was a German, though I am English, he having married my mother’s sister. Being very much attached to his fatherless nephew, he invited me to study under him in his home in the fatherland. This home was in a large town, and my uncle a professor of philosophy, chemistry, geology, mineralogy, and many other ologies.

One day, after passing some hours in the laboratory—my uncle being absent at the time—I suddenly felt the necessity of renovating the tissues—i.e., I was hungry, and was about to rouse up our old French cook, when my uncle, Professor Von Hardwigg, suddenly opened the street door, and came rushing upstairs.

Now Professor Hardwigg, my worthy uncle, is by no means a bad sort of man; he is, however, choleric and original. To bear with him means to obey; and scarcely had his heavy feet resounded within our joint domicile than he shouted for me to attend upon him.

“Harry—Harry—Harry—”

Mesmeric Revelation

by Edgar Allan Poe
First published in Columbian Magazine, August 1844
Published in Amazing Stories, May 1926, pp. 124-127.

INTRODUCTION. In the last century mesmerism excited a great deal of attention and that quite famous lady Harriet Martmeau, a very celebrated writer in her day and one of the severest critics early America ever had, figured as one of its believers, and here Edgar Allan Poe uses it for a framework to surround some of his views on spiritual matter and the hereafter. It is a great mistake to take this favorite author as only an agreeable fiction writer, and it is impossible not to feel that had his life been different, had he not been overshadowed by poverty, and had he not led so troubled an existence, he would have figured as an enlightened philosopher, and as one whose views are far removed from the disagreeable pessimism so prevalent of the present day.

Whatever doubt may still envelop the rationale of mesmerism, its startling facts are now almost universally admitted. Of these latter, those who doubt, are your mere doubters by profession—an unprofitable and disreputable tribe. There can be no more absolute waste of time than the attempt to prove, at the present day, that man, by mere exercise of will, can so impress his fellow, as to cast him into an abnormal condition, of which the phenomena resemble very closely those of death, or at least resemble them more nearly than they do the phenomena of any other normal condition within our cognizance; that, while in this state, the person so impressed employs only with effort, and then feebly, the external organs of sense, yet perceives, with keenly refined perception, and through channels supposed unknown, matters beyond the scope of the physical organs; that, moreover, his intellectual faculties are wonderfully exalted and invigorated; that his sympathies with the person so impressing him are profound; and, finally, that his susceptibility to the impression increases with its frequency, while, in the same proportion, the peculiar phenomena elicited are more extended and more pronounced.

I say that these—which are the laws of mesmerism in its general features—it would be supererogation to demonstrate; nor shall I inflict upon my readers so needless a demonstration today. My purpose at present is a very different one indeed. I am impelled, even in the teeth of a world of prejudice, to detail without comment the very remarkable substance of a colloquy, occurring between a sleep-waker and myself.

The Crystal Egg

by H.G. Wells
First published in The New Review, May 1897
Published in Amazing Stories, May 1926, pp. 128-134.

INTRODUCTION. Here is a tremendous story by one of the greatest living scientifiction writers. Here is a story that will keep you guessing to the end—a story which will recur to your mind many years hence. Mr. Wells’ imagination is not running loose—he knows his science—and while the story at first glance may seem entirely too fantastic, no one knows but that it may, 5,000 years from now be quite tame and of everyday occurrence.

If a civilization on another world were sometime to communicate with us, there might be thousands of methods, to us undreamt of, by which this could be achieved. The crystal egg method which Mr. Wells uses in this story may be one of them. We who are accustomed to radio and who can bring voices out of the thin air with a pocket radio receptor, will not think that the crystal egg is impossible of fulfillment at some future date.

We recommend this amazing story to you.

There was, until a year ago, a little and very grimy-looking shop near Seven Dials, over which, in weather-worn yellow lettering, the name of “C. Cave, Naturalist and Dealer in Antiquities,” was inscribed. The contents of its window were curiously variegated. They comprised some elephant tusks and an imperfect set of chessmen, beads and weapons, a box of eyes, two skulls of tigers and one human, several moth-eaten stuffed monkeys (one holding a lamp), an old-fashioned cabinet, a flyblown ostrich egg or so, some fishing tackle, and an extraordinarily dirty, empty glass fishtank. There was also, at the moment the story begins, a mass of crystal, worked into the shape of an egg and brilliantly polished. And at that two people, who stood outside the window, were looking, one of them a tall, thin clergyman, the other a black-bearded young man of dusky complexion and unobtrusive costume. The dusky young man spoke with eager gesticulation, and seemed anxious for his companion to purchase the article.

While they were there, Mr. Cave came into his shop, his beard still wagging with the bread and butter of his tea. When he saw these men and the object of their regard, his countenance fell. He glanced guiltily over his shoulder, and softly shut the door. He was a little old man, with pale face and peculiar watery blue eyes; his hair was a dirty grey, and he wore a shabby blue frock coat, an ancient silk hat, and carpet slippers very much down at heel. He remained watching the two men as they talked. The clergyman went deep into his trouser pocket, examined a handful of money, and showed his teeth in an agreeable smile. Mr. Cave seemed still more depressed when they came into the shop.

The Infinite Vision

by Charles C. Winn
First published in Science and Invention, May 1924

Published in Amazing Stories, May 1926, pp. 136–39, 147.

INTRODUCTION. At the opposite extremes of the investigations of scientists are the studies of the electron and nucleus and quantum which have crowned such scientists as Milligan and Bohr and Rutherford tail with reputations which will never die. But on the other end of things we are surrounded by the stellar universe where miles are too small to be taken into account, and where the light year, which is an inconceivable number of miles for the ordinary mind, is the unit of distance, and into this great stellar universe the observers of the International Astronomical Society are striving to penetrate with their gigantic telescope mounted on the great observatory on the summit of the Andes Mountains. What did they see? What secrets were revealed to them? We have no more to say. Read the story.

“I tell you, gentlemen, this is a pretty pass of affairs. Here all the other branches of science are open to practically an unlimited development, while Astronomy is nearly strapped because of one thing—that we have apparently reached the limit of development of the telescope, as evidenced by these plates here. Something must be done. Can’t any of you suggest anything?” and the speaker paused and glared around the table.

It was a meeting of the International Astronomical Society, gathered to discuss the results of the trial of the giant 40 foot mercury reflector telescope which had recently been completed in the great Holton Observatory, situated high up among the South American Andes.

Evidently the results had been none too satisfactory, as evidenced by the grave and thoughtful expressions of the company. Holton, the chairman, with his none too good ordinary humor, was fast working up to a literal tirade of rage.

“Possibly zee mercury reflector might be satisfactorily eemproved,” mildly suggested Flambeau, the noted Frenchman, in response to Holton’s heated demand.

That individual gave a snort of disgust, and his wiry red hair fairly bristled, as he spat out his withering reply.

The Man From the Atom, 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 2

by G. Peyton Wertenbaker
First published in Science and Invention, August 1923
Published in Amazing Stories, May 1926, pp. 140-147.

INTRODUCTION. In this installment we find the hero a prisoner on the unknown planet, the inhabitants of which are very much advanced and far superior to the people of the Earth—in intellect and science. His life among these people is not a happy one. Through the interception of a beautiful young girl, some of the best scientists there evolve a method whereby our hero can return to Earth. They figure on the basis of Einstein’s theory of the curvature of time—if one goes on far enough, he will eventually return to where he started from—or in other words “the world having lived and died will live again and die again.” It takes millions of years to complete a cycle, but because of the many times’ increased speed with which our hero travels, because of his enormous size, they are able to figure his return to a time very nearly corresponding the year in which he left the Earth. Read this imaginative sequel and see how he succeeds, and how he likes the Earth after he comes back.

WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE. Professor Martyn was an inventor of genius, and Kirby—one of the very few friends he had—was always a willing test object for many of his inventions. Somewhat even to his own surprise, Professor Martyn invents a machine whereby anyone can at will, either increase or diminish in size, and Kirby agrees—with foreboding in his heart—to test the machine. It is put into operation by merely pressing the middle button on this little machine, which is attached with straps, over his chest. He is fitted with an elastic suit, specially made for the purpose of keeping out intense cold or heat and retaining an even degree of temperature. He begins to increase in size and soon is so large that he just naturally slips away from the Earth and goes off into ultra-planetary space. After the first rush of excitement, Kirby becomes alarmed about it all and decides to come back to Earth. He presses the right button and immediately begins to diminish in size. But he has traveled so fast and is so far away that he becomes panic-stricken and decides to press the “stop” button. The velocity of his motion is so great that he travels for hundreds of miles more before he can stop. Then he suddenly finds himself coming up out of water—floating. He swims ashore, but he is so exhausted, he falls right off to sleep. When he awakes, he gets into a state of utter despair, for instead of being on the Earth, he finds himself on some unknown planet. He rages and fumes around for some time and finally decides to decrease to a size small enough to enable him to go back to Earth and forthwith sets out to find the same nebula through which he originally left the Earth. He cannot find it and does not reach the Earth, but lands instead on a strange planet, with strange inhabitants, so far advanced in intellect that he feels like a savage among them. He does not understand their language and cannot understand their customs. He is there alone in utter desolation and despair, ever pining for those he left behind, whom he can never hope to see again.

Part 2: The Return

I never hoped—never dreamed, when I wrote the tale you have read, that I should ever see the earth again. Who in the universe could have hoped against all the knowledge of insuperable fate which had come to me? Who could hope to overcome Time and Space, to recapture that which was gone forever? Yet it is just this that I have done—or something very like it. And it is a story a thousand times more fantastic, more impossible, than the story of my journey. And like that it is true.

When I last wrote, I was living in a state of awful quiescence upon a planet of the star Delni—I do not know yet what it would be called here, or whether it is even existent now for us. Perhaps I exaggerated a little my position, but that was before I had met Vinda. Vinda—shall I ever see her again? I leave tomorrow—but will she be there?