The first number of The Little Review came as a delightful surprise and I have enjoyed reading it. I particularly appreciate the spirit of appreciation running through the pages, which I believe will be of inestimable service to young writers, if you are able to keep it up.
M. K.
New York.
The Little Review looks very interesting. I hope to have the pleasure of reading it through very soon, but at the moment my small sister is devouring it and refuses absolutely to give it up. If you are as successful in pleasing women generally as you have been in pleasing her you need have no fear for the success of the magazine.
J. C. P.
New York.
Professor Foster’s essay on The Prophet of a New Culture is magnificent—a soul-searching, heart-breaking bit of writing, fiery and tragic. Nicholas Vachel Lindsay’s How a Little Girl Danced is a delightful thing—airy, high-minded, and full of his burning spirit. In fact, The Little Review is full of things that one reads with a keen zest.
W. L. C.
Denver.
The Little Review came to hand promptly, but I was unable to read it until last night. That is where I made my first mistake, as I had been denying myself a very pleasant two hours. My second mistake was in having read it at all, as it has now become one of those eight or ten journals which are always welcome and more or less necessary. Ten journals each month (and some weeklies), quietly yet insistently urging me to take them up, are like those good friends who tempt me with an outing in Spring when work is crowding. So with The Little Review. It has with one reading become a distinctly individual friend.
W. M. L.
Philadelphia.
Your Little Review has just reached me. I took it home for leisurely examination on Sunday. I congratulate you upon launching and hope that you’ll meet no adverse trade winds in your voyage. Its atmosphere is certainly anything but editorial, and you’ve put plenty of your own personality into it. And what a delightfully charming letter is that from Galsworthy!
I should take sharp issue with you on one or two slight points could I face you across a lunch table, but as it is, I tuck my differences away, with a sigh of envy at your enthusiasm, and the sincere wish that you may always keep it.