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1921 / June | View All Issues |

June 1921

Fiction

f1, 36-45 PDF

The harbor master·

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A story in two parts (part I)


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The silver lining in Ireland·

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Poetry

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The wanton·

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The town that was Strawberry Banke·

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The too high·

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A lover’s warning·

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Unearthing the secrets of the Aztec ruin·

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Withered petals·

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The pine tree·

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Songs of the American Indian·

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Re-expressed from the originals

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Songs of the American Indian·

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Woman’s song·

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San Juan love song·

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Rain songs from the Rio Grande pueblos·

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Lament of a man for his son·

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“–But why preach?”·

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A judgment from above·

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Faery lands of the sea·

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Part VIII.–His mother’s people

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Literature and bad nerves·

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The lion’s mouth

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Wild oats–for ladies·

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The lion’s mouth

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Young man, go under·

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The lion’s mouth

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The menace of infant genius·

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Words we would willingly let die·

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Editor’s easy chair

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Once a penguin always a penguin·

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Editor’s drawer

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An animated conversation·

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An elegant excuse·

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Enough names to go round·

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Never too late for business·

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A startling exegesis·

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Paid in kind·

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Mrs. B’s Baby Village Day Care was on a frontage road between a mattress wholesaler and a knife outlet. There were six or so babies as regulars and another one or two on weekends when their parents were passing through looking for work. They wouldn’t find work, of course, all the security positions were full, the timber and ore had all been taken under the active-stewardship program, and the closest new start-up industry was the geothermal field hundreds of miles away. Mrs. B didn’t even bother to write those babies’ names down in her book. It was fifteen dollars a day and they had to be in reasonable health. Even so the occasional mischievous illness would arise and empty the place out.

Illustration (detail) by Taylor Callery
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Mrs. B’s Baby Village Day Care was on a frontage road between a mattress wholesaler and a knife outlet. There were six or so babies as regulars and another one or two on weekends when their parents were passing through looking for work. They wouldn’t find work, of course, all the security positions were full, the timber and ore had all been taken under the active-stewardship program, and the closest new start-up industry was the geothermal field hundreds of miles away. Mrs. B didn’t even bother to write those babies’ names down in her book. It was fifteen dollars a day and they had to be in reasonable health. Even so the occasional mischievous illness would arise and empty the place out.

Photograph (detail) by Philip Montgomery
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Mrs. B’s Baby Village Day Care was on a frontage road between a mattress wholesaler and a knife outlet. There were six or so babies as regulars and another one or two on weekends when their parents were passing through looking for work. They wouldn’t find work, of course, all the security positions were full, the timber and ore had all been taken under the active-stewardship program, and the closest new start-up industry was the geothermal field hundreds of miles away. Mrs. B didn’t even bother to write those babies’ names down in her book. It was fifteen dollars a day and they had to be in reasonable health. Even so the occasional mischievous illness would arise and empty the place out.

Photograph (detail) by Robin Hammond/NOOR
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Mrs. B’s Baby Village Day Care was on a frontage road between a mattress wholesaler and a knife outlet. There were six or so babies as regulars and another one or two on weekends when their parents were passing through looking for work. They wouldn’t find work, of course, all the security positions were full, the timber and ore had all been taken under the active-stewardship program, and the closest new start-up industry was the geothermal field hundreds of miles away. Mrs. B didn’t even bother to write those babies’ names down in her book. It was fifteen dollars a day and they had to be in reasonable health. Even so the occasional mischievous illness would arise and empty the place out.

Illustration (detail) by Eda Akaltun. Source photograph of Jairam Hathwar at the 2016 Scripps National Spelling Bee © Pete Marovich/UPI/Newscom
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Mrs. B’s Baby Village Day Care was on a frontage road between a mattress wholesaler and a knife outlet. There were six or so babies as regulars and another one or two on weekends when their parents were passing through looking for work. They wouldn’t find work, of course, all the security positions were full, the timber and ore had all been taken under the active-stewardship program, and the closest new start-up industry was the geothermal field hundreds of miles away. Mrs. B didn’t even bother to write those babies’ names down in her book. It was fifteen dollars a day and they had to be in reasonable health. Even so the occasional mischievous illness would arise and empty the place out.

Illustration by Katherine Streeter

Number of U.S. major-league baseball players this year who are natives of the Dominican Republic:

79

A psychopharmacologist named David Nutt declared that there was no good reason why scientists couldn’t come up with a cocktail of drugs that mimics all the pleasurable effects of alcohol without any of the negative side effects.

Three bodies were tossed from a low-flying plane in the Sinaloa state of Mexico.

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"It is an interesting and somewhat macabre parlor game to play at a large gathering of one’s acquaintances: to speculate who in a showdown would go Nazi. By now, I think I know. I have gone through the experience many times—in Germany, in Austria, and in France. I have come to know the types: the born Nazis, the Nazis whom democracy itself has created, the certain-to-be fellow-travelers. And I also know those who never, under any conceivable circumstances, would become Nazis."

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