Part 1

THE CROSS WORD PUZZLE BOOK

Third Series

A Third Anthology of Fifty New Cross Word Puzzles Selected as the Best of the Thousands Submitted to the New York World, Published Here Exclusively for the First Time, and Edited

By

PROSPER BURANELLI F. GREGORY HARTSWICK MARGARET PETHERBRIDGE

with a

BALLADE OF CROSS WORDS

by Ruth Franc von Phul Cross Word Puzzle Champion of the World

SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC. THE PLAZA PUBLISHING COMPANY New York ⸬ 1924

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The publishers and editors of the Cross Word Puzzle Books wish to record the debt of all Cross Word fans to The New York World for its pioneer work in the field. Cross Word Puzzles have been run in the Sunday World for over twenty years and their present nation-wide vogue had its origin in and received its greatest impetus from the Puzzle Page of the Sunday World Magazine. The fifty cross word puzzles in this book are all entirely new and have never been printed before in any publication.

OFFICIAL ENDORSEMENT

The original Cross Word Puzzle Books, published by Simon and Schuster, are the only ones officially endorsed by the Amateur Cross Word Puzzle League of America and edited in conformity with the rules of cross word puzzle construction promulgated by the League and printed on page 9 of this book.

PREFACE

Controversy, which is the breath of life to any of the arts or sciences, has reared its head among the ranks of Cross Word solvers. The air is filled with ’tis and ’tain’t. The clan is divided into schools, which is well for the vitality of puzzling. It is undoubtedly true that a house divided against itself cannot stand; but it is also veritable that an art divided against itself flourisheth exceedingly.

The schism that is causing all the noise, reduced to its simplest terms, is stated in the question, “Shall the Cross Word Puzzle be made hard or easy?”

On the one hand stand the pundits, with thesaurus and dictionary armed. They crave queer words and exotic definitions. They thrill to the cross-clue unravelling of some strange combination of vowels and consonants resembling nothing ever uttered by human tongue, but which their reference-books declare is a genuine word, with meanings and inflections and everything. They delight in extracting a simple word from its definition of secondary or tertiary meaning: when “express generally” is solved as “air” they greet the word so often defined as “mixture of gases” with cries of delight; “introduce as an antagonist” is found to be “pit,” and tears of joy are shed over the relief from the common “hole” or “depression.”

Thus the solvers who revel in the recondite. Opposed to them stand the serried ranks of those whose pleasure lies in the accomplishment; who do not wish their onward march to victory delayed by forests of Javanese shrubs or oceans full of rajidae with enlarged pectoral fins. Nor do they wish words torn far from their daily, or at least semi-weekly, use. A Leer by the river’s brim a simple Sly Glance is to them, and not an Annealing-furnace.

A third element enters the lists at this point—the constructors. When a man has a superb puzzle almost finished, with complete interlock and no abbreviations or unkeyed letters, he frequently finds a space left into which nothing will go except a particularly rare combination of letters—let us say, for example, TIL. The constructor runs hastily through his vocabulary and finds no TIL; he has a vague recollection of such a word somewhere in his poetic remembrances; but the familiar abbreviation of “until” is “till,” and the constructor has no wish to add the damning parenthesis-enclosed “poet. contr.” after his definition. He tries all the combinations possible; none will fit. Torn between despair and hope he seeks Webster’s Unabridged. Trembling finger runs down the columns. Ah! Between “tikur” and “tilbury,” in small type, as though ashamed of existence, he finds what he seeks. “Til—Sesame.” Into the construction goes the word, and the puzzle is finished. Observe that the constructor had no desire to introduce this exotic syllable; he did not even know that there was such a word in any language. If he could have written “tic,” or “tie,” or “tin,” or “tip,” or “tis,” or “tit,” he would have done so. But “til” was his sole refuge, and the Unabridged bore him nobly out. Thus, says the constructor, why should the solver rage when he discovers “sesame” among the definitions? Let him try to make one himself, etc., etc.

Returning a moment to the pundits’ side of the argument, observe a fact. If any solver had been asked, before he took up cross words, to give offhand the name of Egypt’s sun-god, a three-letter word meaning island, a four-letter word for handbag, the name of a large Australian bird, or the sash affected by the ladies of cherry-blossom land, it is odds but that he would have been reduced to stammering evasions. But even a tyro at the glorious game can now rattle off by rote the words Ra, Uit, Etui, Moa, Obi. In running down the definitions of a new puzzle it is not the household words that set him scribbling frantically, but such old friends as the above. So, contend the punditti, a word that may be a nameless horror at the moment becomes through association a friend in time of trouble.

True enough, answer the believers in the simplicities, but the introduction of such words is evidence of laziness on the part of the constructor. Moreover, their constant use tends to eliminate them, their places to be taken by other literal monstrosities. And there is much in this contention. Where now are the Emu and the Eel? Time was, and not so long ago, that every other construction was the combined aviary and aquarium necessary to harbor these two; today they are one with Nineveh and Tyre. And so it may well be with Ra and Uit and Etui. They will march one by one into the shades where lurk the other gallant words that died of over-work. And the strange combinations that take their places will also abide their little hour, and go their way.

Once again the constructor beats on the table and demands to be heard. “Where,” he asks, “do I get off? Am I to be barred from including words that finish my design because a group of you insist that no word not included in everyday vocabularies appear in the little white squares? Or am I to suffer under the lash of scorn because a few of you mock my brilliant construction wherein no exotic letter-combination rears its head?—a construction that cost me more time than if I had allowed a few oddities, I may add. What am I to do?”

“Go as far as you like!” cry the Recondites.

“Stick to the common words!” insist the Champions of the Plain.

Of course, these admonitions do not help the constructor in the least. He is the ham in the verbal sandwich—necessary, but spread rather thin and squashed flat. It is in the nature of things that this should be so. No creator has had a different experience. You can please some of the people, and the rest of it. It is part of the penalty of the builder to receive criticism. Scarce have the birth-pangs passed when the child is the storm-center of a tempest of contradictory comment.

It is, of course, an indeterminable debate. The Simplicities have their case, as have the Abstrusities. In the meantime, short of erasure and complete rebirth, the constructor’s pattern remains. For better, for worse, for easier, for harder, in the pocket edition or the Unabridged, his words cross and twine all among the blacks and the whites.

In the meantime, the schism remains. What is to come of it, we know not. Whatever the decision may be, the constructor will not change his status. Once a constructor, always between the millstones.

Prosper Buranelli F. Gregory Hartswick Margaret Petherbridge

BALLADE OF CROSS WORDS

By Ruth Franc von Phul (Cross Word Puzzle Champion of the World) [1]

Once from the world I sought surcease Between a novel’s covers pressed; No longer there I look for peace; Of anodynes I’ve found the best. So, when the sun sinks in the west Sunk, too, are husband, friends and cook— Where do I find my treasure chest? All in the leaves of the Cross Word Book.

If from ennui you seek release Purchase this book; don’t beg; invest! Madame, she will love ze fine service A caller intrudes? Hein? Kill ze pest! Oh, Noah Webster, you are blest When for a clue in your works I look— Where is all life from “less” to “crest”? All in the leaves of the Cross Word Book.

What galleon sought the Golden Fleece? What is the Welsh for “eagle’s nest”? What is a Flemish tartan crease? Who was it asked the Erse for “breast”? Who can define a Baltic jest? Who ever called it a six-pronged hook! You will discern them, mixed and messed, All in the leaves of the Cross Word Book.

L’envoi

Prince: if from affairs your soul craves rest, Hie you to some abandoned nook. There for your mind seek a gayer test All in the leaves of the Cross Word Book.

VOCABULARY ENRICHMENT IN THE SUBURBS DUE TO THE CROSS WORD PUZZLE INFLUENCE

(Two neighbors, Mrs. Wordsworth and Mrs. Frazee, are spending a warm summer afternoon together on the former’s front porch. They are sewing.)

Mrs. W.—What is that you are working at, my dear?

Mrs. F.—I’m tatting Joe’s initials on his moreen vest. Are you making that ebon garment for yourself?

Mrs. W.—Yea. Just a black dress for every day. Henry says I look rather naif in black.

Mrs. F.—Well, perhaps; but it’s a bit too anile for me. Give me something in indigo or, say, ecru.

Mrs. W.—Quite right. There is really no neb in such solemn investments.

Mrs. F.—Stet.

Mrs. W.—By the way, didn’t I hear that your little Junior met with an accident?

Mrs. F.—Yes. The little oaf fell from an apse and fractured his artus.

Mrs. W.—Egad!

Mrs. F.—And to make matters worse Dr. Bloop botched it so that we had to trek into town to a specialist. How Dr. Bloop makes his sal is a rebus to me.

Mrs. W.—The zany.

Mrs. F.—Joe’s ire was so aroused that he told Dr. Bloop right to his visage that he was a dolt and an ort. Is your offspring well?

Mrs. W.—Not entirely. He was abed yester with a severe megrim, dark arcs neath his orbs and as pale as talc.

Mrs. F.—Renal?

Mrs. W.—That is moot. You see, Dicky is so active.

Mrs. F.—A perfect icon of his pater; restless as a little emu.

Mrs. W.—He took a canoe out on the tarn and paddled over to the ait. There he stepped into a fen and got his feet roric.

Mrs. F.—Boys have such an elan for the eau.

Mrs. W.—Why can’t they play on the muirs and in the wald nearby? I gave him a drachm of ricin and thank goodness he was better this morn.

Mrs. F.—I’m so glad. This torrid weather is very trying. One’s vitality reaches its nadir in this heat, and to add to the discomfort I have an incompetent serf to contend with.

Mrs. W.—Oh, this esne problem. The last one I had was such a schelm I had to let her go. Would you drink a nice cold beaker of negus? I’m so sere.

Mrs. F.—Don’t trouble yourself, my dear.

Mrs. W.—Not at all. It’s Henry’s favorite quaff and he insists upon it being on the ice at all times. He gets quite roiled if it isn’t.

Mrs. F.—Well, we must humor our sires. I hate to hear them gnar.

(They are interrupted by piercing juvenile shrieks growing rapidly louder and nearer. Junior and Dicky, ages six and seven, burst into view around the corner of the house. They take final kicks at each other before smothering their sobs in the laps of their respective mothers.)

Mrs. F.—Why, Junior, what is this?

Mrs. W.—Come, come, Dicky, aren’t you ashamed of such——

Dicky (Howling)—W-well, it’s h-his fault. He said I was a five-letter word meaning a human being with inferior intelligence and wit!

Junior—And he called me a four-letter word meaning an invisible particle of matter!

Dicky—And that’s what you are.

(They mix it up once more and are disentangled with difficulty.)

Mrs. F.—I think we had better be going, Mrs. Wordsworth. I’m so sorry.

Mrs. W.—Male progeny will be male progeny, you know.

(Mrs. F. drags Junior away.)

Dicky—(Yelling after him with much feeling)—ATOM!!

Junior—(Not too gently)—MORON!!!

N. D. Plume+Jean

—Reprinted by permission from F. P. A.’s Conning Tower, The N. Y. World.

RULES FOR CONSTRUCTION OF CROSS WORD PUZZLES

Reported by the Committee on Rules, and adopted by The Amateur Cross Word Puzzle League of America at its meeting, September 27, 1924, in The Wanamaker Auditorium, New York City.

1. Pattern

The pattern shall interlock all over. Only approximately one-sixth of the squares shall be black. Only approximately one-tenth of the letters shall be unkeyed. The design shall be symmetrical.

2. Words

Obsolete, and dialectic words may be used in moderation, if plainly marked and accessible in some standard dictionary, such as Webster’s New International (Merriam’s), Funk & Wagnalls’ and Century. Foreign words that are more or less familiar and are easily accessible, may be used, but should be marked with the language to which they belong. Technical terms that are found in a standard dictionary may be used. Abbreviations, prefixes and suffixes, should be avoided as far as possible. When used they should be plainly marked and must be legitimate.

3. Definitions

Great variety may be attained in writing the definitions and as wide a scope as possible must be left to the constructor. The only requirement is common sense. This means that the definitions may be of the safe and sane dictionary kind, may be literary or historical, may employ secondary meanings cleverly, may be legitimately funny. Synonyms that are too far removed from the word and what Gelett Burgess calls “smarty-cat definitions” should be avoided.

HOW TO SOLVE A CROSS WORD PUZZLE

There are two essential points that must be remembered by initiates into the cross word puzzlers’ fraternity. First, the numbers in the squares refer to the definitions; secondly, there should be but one letter to each white square.

Figure 1 shows a cross word puzzle challenging each and every one of us to solve it. Looking the puzzle over we find that 1 horizontal calls for a seven letter word meaning “disparage.” That is not so easy, so we leave it temporarily. We go on to the next one, which is a three letter word meaning “a cereal grass.” What else could it be but OAT? Therefore we ink in OAT in the proper squares. “Vice Admiral.” That most assuredly must be VA. We place that into position. The ninth, tenth and eleventh do not come to our minds immediately, so we pass them up. We will catch them on the cross check. Twelve is familiar, however, and with a little thought we place LO in the vacant squares. The rest do not come to us, so we leave them also, and turn to the verticals.

EXAMPLE

+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 1 | | 2 | 3 | 4 | | 5 | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 6 | | |#####| | | |#####| | | |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 7 | 8 |#####| |#####| 9 | | | | |#####| |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 10 | | |#####| 11 | | | | | | |#####| | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 12 | |#####| 13 |#####| 14 | | | | |#####| |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 15 | | 16 |#####| | | |#####| | | |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 17 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+

Fig. 1

DEFINITIONS

Horizontal Vertical

1 Disparage 1 Evolve 6 Cereal grass 2 Toward 7 Abbr. Vice Admiral 3 A rodent 9 An edge-tool 4 Near 10 Urge 5 A web 11 Skill 8 Gone by 12 Behold 9 A land measure 14 Prefix: good 13 A male sheep 15 Impair 15 Indeed 17 Agreement 16 Disordered type

Looking over the diagram (See Figure 2) we find that one vertical calls for a seven letter word whose third and fifth letters are V and L respectively and which is defined as “evolve.” The V and the L give us the clue. The word is DEVELOP. We place it in the diagram. Two, three and four are easy, for we have three clues to work on and we find the proper words without much difficulty. The next one is beyond us, so we go on to the one numbered 8. We find that a three letter word—starting with A—meaning “gone by,” is needed. The clues of A and O enable us to get that without much trouble, and we place AGO in the square. We pass by nine, but thirteen is easy. “A male sheep?” Why, of course, the word is RAM.

+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 1 | | 2 | 3 | 4 | | 5 | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 6 | | |#####| | | |#####| O | A | T |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 7 | 8 |#####| |#####| 9 | | | V | A |#####| |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 10 | | |#####| 11 | | | | | | |#####| | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 12 | |#####| 13 |#####| 14 | | | L | O |#####| |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 15 | | 16 |#####| | | |#####| | | |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 17 | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+

Fig. 2

+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 1 | | 2 | 3 | 4 | | 5 | | D | | T | R | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 6 | | |#####| | | E |#####| O | A | T |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 7 | 8 |#####| |#####| 9 | | | V | A |#####| |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 10 | | |#####| 11 | | | | E | G | |#####| | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 12 | |#####| 13 |#####| 14 | | | L | O |#####| R |#####| | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 15 | | 16 |#####| | | O |#####| | A | |#####| | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 17 | | | | | | | | P | | | M | | | | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+

Fig. 3

From now on the going is easy. We have plenty of clues to the words that we do not know. (See Figure 3.) Rechecking the horizontals, we find that we have the first, third, fourth and fifth letters of “disparage,” and with their aid we easily see that the word is DETRACT. Looking for a two letter word meaning “an edge-tool,” we soon find that there is but one word that will fit. We place AX in position. With nine vertical beginning with an A it is easy to find that ARE is the proper word. Ten horizontal proves to be EGG and eleven becomes ART. We say to ourselves that if we could only get five vertical we would have the puzzle solved. Well, why not? Is the second letter an a, e, i, o, or u? The definition gives it as “a web.” What word will fit but TEXTURE? We place that into position. Now, we find that we have the puzzle almost completed. Fifteen horizontal needs a three letter word meaning “impair.” Its middle letter must be an A. With the A to guide us that is simple. The word is “SAP.” Fifteen and sixteen being two letter words are easily found, and we place SO and PI into position. We now find that we have the puzzle completed with one exception. Seventeen horizontal has to be found. Its first, third, fourth, fifth and seventh letters are P OMI E. A consonant is needed for the second letter, and R seems to be the most logical choice. That gives us the word, which is defined as “agreement.” (See Figure 4.)

+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 1 | | 2 | 3 | 4 | | 5 | | D | E | T | R | A | C | T | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 6 | | |#####| | | E |#####| O | A | T |#####| E | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 7 | 8 |#####| |#####| 9 | | | V | A |#####| T |#####| A | X | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 10 | | |#####| 11 | | | | E | G | G |#####| A | R | T | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 12 | |#####| 13 |#####| 14 | | | L | O |#####| R |#####| E | U | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | |#####| 15 | | 16 |#####| | | O |#####| S | A | P |#####| R | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+ | 17 | | | | | | | | P | R | O | M | I | S | E | +-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+-----+

Fig. 4

We settle back into our chair with a sigh of content at the thought of a job well done. But that is not the finish. Rather it is but the start. Now that we have tasted the pleasures of cross word puzzling, we are loath to give our time to anything else. What other amusement offers the pleasure, instruction and satisfaction that is to be found in Cross Word Puzzles? There is but one answer to that question, and—foregoing the movies—we settle down to the elusive task of tracking words to their lairs.

DO’S AND DON’T’S FOR SOLVERS

Don’t get scared if you can’t guess the first horizontal word. Go through the list till you find a definition that you’re sure of. That is the simplest method of beginning the solution. When you have written in all the words you are sure of, you will have plenty of clues for the unknowns.

Don’t spend too much time with the long words unless you are sure of them. They will appear when the short ones have been solved. Of course, not all the short ones are easy, but they are generally more readily attended to than the long ones. Also, there are more of them, increasing the chances of finding familiar faces among the definitions.

If you think a word is right, pencil it in lightly till you are sure. This saves erosion of paper and temper. But never hesitate to try a word that may be right. The trial and error method holds in puzzling as it does in life.

Remember that the horizontals furnish a sure check on the verticals, and vice versa.

If you are hopelessly stuck, try another puzzle. Inspiration sometimes waits for a return engagement.

A pleasant feeling of something attempted, something done, accompanies the solution of a cross word puzzle. It’s good for the inferiority complex.

PUZZLE NO. 101

A CHRISTMAS TREE

By Moby Dick

This Christmas tree is a tour de force in consecutive two-letter words. Even the veriest beginner should finish it in a half hour, for the words are all fair and should come to mind immediately. This is a case where the rule on ratio of black squares to white is purposely violated for appropriateness of design.