be as fastidious in
their selection of them as they are in the current examples of the other
arts. Let them spread the news when photoplays keyed to the Rembrandt
mood arrive. The reporters for the newspapers should get their ideas and
refreshment in such places as the Ryerson Art Library of the Chicago Art
Institute. They should begin with such books as Richard Muther's History
of Modern Painting, John C. Van Dyke's Art for Art's Sake, Marquand and
Frothingham's History of Sculpture, A.D.F. Hamlin's History of
Architecture. They should take the business of guidance in this new world
as a sacred trust, knowing they have the power to influence an enormous
democracy.

The moving picture journals and the literati are in straits over the
censorship question. The literati side with the managers, on the
principles of free speech and a free press. But few of the aesthetically
super-wise are persistent fans. They rave for freedom, but are not, as a
general thing, living back in the home town. They do not face the
exigency of having their summer and winter amusement spoiled day after
day.

Extremists among the pious are railing against the moving pictures as
once they railed against novels. They have no notion that this
institution is penetrating to the last backwoods of our civilization,
where its presence is as hard to prevent as the rain. But some of us are
destined to a reaction, almost as strong as the obsession. The
religionists will think they lead it. They will be self-deceived. Moving
picture nausea is already taking hold of numberless people, even when
they are in the purely pagan mood. Forced by their limited purses, their
inability to buy a Ford car, and the like, they go in their loneliness to
film after film till the whole world seems to turn on a reel. When they
are again at home, they see in the dark an imaginary screen with
tremendous pictures, whirling by at a horribly accelerated pace, a
photoplay delirium tremens. Faster and faster the reel turns in the back
of their heads. When the moving picture sea-sickness is upon one, nothing
satisfies but the quietest out of doors, the companionship of the
gentlest of real people. The non-movie-life has charms such as one never
before conceived. The worn citizen feels that the cranks and legislators
can do what they please to the producers. He is through with them.

The moving picture business men do not realize that they have to face
these nervous conditions in the