The real function of the Sunday Magazine, to my thinking, is to
present the color and romance of the news, the most authoritative
opinions on the issues and events of the day, and to chronicle
promptly the developments of science as applied to daily life. In
the grind of human intercourse all manner of curious, heroic,
delightful things turn up, and for the most part, are dismissed in a
passing note. Behind every such episode are human beings and a
story, and these, if fairly and artfully explained, are the very
stuff of romance. Into every great city men are drifting daily from
the strange and remote places of the world where they have survived
perilous hazards and seen rare spectacles. Such adventures are the
treasure troves of the skilful reporter. The cross currents and
reactions that lead up to any explosion of greed or passion that we
call crime are often worth following, not only for their plots, but
as proofs of the pain and terror of transgression. Brave deeds or
heroic resistances are all too seldom presented in full length in
the news, and generously portrayed prove the nobility inherent in
every-day life.

The broad domain of the Sunday magazine editor covers all that may
be rare and curious or novel in the arts and sciences, in music and
verse, in religion and the occult, on the stage and in sport.
Achievements and controversies are ever culminating in these diverse
fields, and the men and women actors therein make admirable subjects
for his pages. Provided the editor has at his disposal skilled
writers who have the fine arts of vivid and simple exposition and of
the brief personal sketch, there is nothing of human interest that
may not be presented.

The ideal Sunday magazine, as Mr. Frederick Boyd Stevenson, Sunday