| S | E | T | ||||||
| T | U | R | ||||||
| E | G | O | ||||||
| A | L | I | M | O | N | Y | ||
| N | A | P |
[[14]]
Now the unfortunate part of it is that the section is completed; there are no more clues, and if one does not know what the humorous figure of speech is and what the British provincialism is, there is no way of discovering them aside from the use of deduction. A little thinking will show that the first letter of the provincialism is more likely to be “S” than any other letter, and a short search in the dictionary will give “Sturm” as the answer; while as for -EUGMA, a brief running through the alphabet will so limit the possibilities that a very short search will reveal ZEUGMA as correct.
It is extremely difficult, in the construction of cross word puzzles, to avoid the use of such “unkeyed” letters, and effort has been used to ensure the presence of common words where more than one letter is unkeyed; but the exigencies of construction will not always allow this. Nor should it always be done; allowance must be made for erudition on the part of the solver. When such a construction appears as S-ALE-E, defined as “Unequal sided and angled” and with all clues exhausted, it is with a warm sensation of culture that one triumphantly fills the blanks with “C” and “N.” And the same thrill is present when “One-sided headaches,” standing clueless with M-GRI-S, is properly filled in to become MEGRIMS.
Thus is the solution achieved; in part by the science of deduction, in part by mother-wit, in part by erudition; appeals to as many as possible of the lobes of the brain. There is no nobler satisfaction than the fitting in of the last word that makes the pattern complete; one rises to lyric heights in the contemplation of the evolution of such a word as one enthusiastic constructor included in his design, the definition of [[15]]which was “Parallel pairs of simulacra in echinoideans.” The cross-constructions showed BIVIA as the necessary filler and the vocabularies of the solvers were enriched by an addition of high esthetic value and utter incomprehensibility, to be used as occasion demands.
The cross word solver becomes a collector, a connoisseur of words. They lose, to him, their mundane purpose of a suitable medium for the exchange of thoughts, and take on an esoteric significance, akin to the appeal of slip-ware to the collector of pottery or the three-cornered Mauritius to the philatelist. He and Hamlet are one. “Words, words, words”—except that he has the advantage of the melancholy one. Hamlet’s words ran in decorous file, one after the other; the solver’s twine and intertwine, each leading to others, resulting in a harmonious whole unapproached by any except the masterpieces of classic literature.
* * *
It is generally conceded that as a form of amusement, cross words are very instructive, and that as a form of instruction, they are very amusing. The first thing that strikes the eye is the pattern in which the words are intermingled. Our experience teaches that an all-over interlock is an absolute necessity, and except in a few cases you will find that the puzzles in this book possess this quality. The advantages are obvious; when all the words interlock, you can check up the horizontal by the vertical, and vice versa.
Occasional stunt patterns are interesting, but as a general thing they are apt to detract from the value of a puzzle as a thing to be solved.
The numbering system used to be quite intricate and took [[16]]up a lot of precious space. It required two numbers to each definition. On July 22, 1923, at the suggestion of an ardent puzzler who calls himself “Radical,” we offered the new system of numbering, which calls for only one number to a definition. It is quite simple to read either horizontally or vertically from one number, and forms a decided improvement over the old style. “Radical” deserves a special vote of thanks. All the puzzles in this book use the new system of numbering.