the fresh and vigorous body of the
people beneath. Thus opportunities of the choicest sort await every
citizen alike, whilst the biological quality of the cultivated classes
is improved by the cessation of that narrow inbreeding which
characterises European aristocracy.

Total separation of civil and religious affairs, the greatest political
and intellectual advance since the Renaissance, is also a local
American--and more particularly a Rhode Island--triumph. Agencies are
today subtly at work to undermine this principle, and to impose upon us
through devious political influences the Papal chains which Henry VIII
first struck from our limbs; chains unfelt since the bloody reign of
Mary, and infinitely worse than the ecclesiastical machinery which Roger
Williams rejected. But when the vital relation of intellectual freedom
to genuine Americanism shall be fully impressed upon the people, it is
likely that such sinister undercurrents will subside.

The main struggle which awaits Americanism is not with reaction, but
with radicalism. Our age is one of restless and unintelligent
iconoclasm, and abounds with shrewd sophists who use the name
"Americanism" to cover attacks on that institution itself. Such familiar
terms and phrases as "democracy," "liberty," or "freedom of speech" are
being distorted to cover the wildest forms of anarchy, whilst our old
representative institutions are being attacked as "un-American" by
foreign immigrants who are incapable both of understanding them or of
devising anything better.

This country would benefit from a wider practice of sound Americanism,
with its accompanying recognition of an Anglo-Saxon source. Americanism
implies freedom, progress, and independence; but it does not imply a
rejection of the past, nor a renunciation of traditions and experience.
Let us view the term in its real, practical, and unsentimental meaning.

THE UNITED AMATEUR NOVEMBER 1919

The White Ship

Howard Phillips Lovecraft

I am Basil Elton, keeper of the North Point light that my father and
grandfather kept before me. Far from the shore stands the grey
lighthouse, above sunken slimy rocks that are seen when the tide is low,
but unseen when the tide is high. Past that beacon for a century have
swept the majestic barques of the seven seas. In the days of my
grandfather there were many; in the days of my father not so many; and
now there are so few that I sometimes feel strangely alone, as tho