5i6 



THE OITDE TO NATURE 



should know something- of its history, 

 a -reat deal of its structure and much 

 oi its possibilities. But how many ob- 

 tain a new camera, read the directions, 

 "You press the button and we do the 

 rest," or some similar and equally terse 

 directions for making exposures, and 

 then never get beyond that stage. 



1 recently sat for a portrait in the gal- 

 lery of one of the expert photographers 

 of Boston. When he made the expo- 

 sure he looked at me and leaned his head 

 over against the lens, perhaps to see 

 the exact point of view the same as the 

 lens did, yet in doing so he manifested 

 a real love and a sympathetic interest 

 for his camera. He eyed me thought- 

 fully. He pressed the bulb, looked at 

 me intently and pressed the bulb again 

 to close the shutter. 



I inquired, "Do you count to decide 

 the length of exposure, or do you ever 

 use a watch?" 



"No," he laughingly replied, "I feel 

 it; I am in sympathy with the camera 

 and know just what it and I are doing." 



Here is a good suggestion for any 

 photographer. Put yourself so in sym- 

 pathy with the camera that you "just 

 feel it." The camera is your friend ; 

 you should know how things seem to 

 your friend. 



Such a feeling should be experienced 

 or cultivated by the photographer 

 whether the camera is a cheap hand af- 

 fair or an elaborate studio outfit ; it is 

 only by having such a feeling that the 

 best results can be obtained. 



Drummond should have had, and 

 perhaps did have, a camerist in mind 

 when he said of love, "It is the greatest 

 thing in the world." To paraphrase 

 the saying of a well-known naturalist, 

 "Do you want to take pictures or do 

 you want to want to take them." In 

 other words, are you really in love 

 with the art or do you merely w r ant to 

 get into the swing of the popular fad 

 and take pictures only because other 

 people take them? The camera is more 

 than a tool ; it is a thing for which to 

 have the deepest sympathy. It is 

 worth more than promiscuous snapping 

 just to use up the rest of the films ; it 

 is worth making it an end in itself. 



"Let the Blessed Sunshine In." 

 I [ere the ravine is saying this plainly, 

 effectively and beautifully. This pho- 

 tograph of "Sunlight and Shade" is 

 one of tin- must beautiful that has come 

 to my desk. It is the work of W. 

 Bush, Redlands, California. 

 Our readers are familiar with the 



THE SPRING SUNSHINE IN THE RAVINE. 



oft repeated injunction that every pho- 

 tograph must say something. This 

 photograph more than merely "says" 

 it. There is an eloquence of expres- 

 sion. Words cannot add to the ex- 

 pressiveness of this photograph. Can 

 you equal it? 



A Real Problem. 



Dreamer — Did you ever think what 

 you'd do if you had Rockefeller's income? 



Mugley — Yes ; and I've often won- 

 dered what he'd do if he had mine. — 

 Catholic Standard and Times. 



