T

HIS is something quite different from hunting for photographs, even though a man's weapons in both cases be camera and plates. To get pictures one must look for them with a different eye than for mere records of travel. One who is willing to take snap-shots liberally will occasionally find himself in possession of a picture, but they come rarely. One may say, using a colloquial definition, that, to constitute a picture, composition and lighting must be such as to make one's friends and perhaps his critics exclaim, "That is a picture!" Such a verdict is the industrious snap-shotter's reward for the many negatives thrown on the ash-heap.

But the picture has generally to be carefully sought for.

In this search most amateurs think that if they can only get far enough away from home it will be easy to capture the elusive sprite that lures them on. If they could take a vacation trip up the Saguenay, they say, or in the Yellowstone Park, or go to the Sandwich Islands, like the fortunate fellows, they would come back with boxes and roll-holders full of artistic stuff. they should remember that the other fellows are saying, "If we could only get to New York, or Boston, or Putney, Vermont, there we could find something worth taking." And that is just where

the first man is venting his dissatisfaction with his "inartistic environment." Wherever one goes, or even if he stays at home, he may find subjects for a photographic picture, or make them. This is not to say that the picturesque is not more evident in some places than in others, but that it is the selection and the treatment of the subject that are the things of prime importance.

There is a growing tendency among seekers for the artistic in photography towards simplicity and the elimination

of unnecessary detail. Instead of trying to get a multiplicity of figures or of objects on a plate, unity and concentration are sought. This counts in favor of the man who cannot go to the ends of the earth on his camera hunting expedition.

In making genre pictures, say of a family of negroes around their cabin, or a group of market women gossiping or of children at play, a cardinal principle, often neglected, is to have them interested in themselves and not in the picture-taker. They must not look at the

camera. The subjects nearly always want to strike an attitude, or "pose.' They must be prevented from doing this at all hazards. Sometimes these genre pictures may, with good light and a fast lens, be taken unknown to the victims. But, as a rule, good effects have to come by prearrangement. I once remarked to a skillful amateur, apropos of a particularly successful snap-shot of a policeman chasing some boys who were disappearing over a fence, "That was a lucky accident, I suppose." "No," was the reply, "I had to have half a dozen rehearsals before I got that."

An expensive outfit is not necessary in hunting pictures. Nor does one need to lug a huge camera around, taking 11x14 photographs or larger. The small photograph made with the smallest pocket camera can be successfully enlarged to any desired size; and when the failures of this size are eliminated, the expense will be inconsiderable, while with the

large outfit the cost of spoiled plates and paper becomes alarming.

The picture-hunter must not be easily discouraged. He will have his share of annoyances. While he is studying a view, the group of "fresh" youths will come along and give him advice, or one of them will say in mocking tones, "I prefer to have my profile taken," and the small boy will get in front of the camera with exasperating persistence. Plates will get light-struck, films will go wrong, lens shutters will not work, hypo will get into the developer, and prize-winning negatives will drop out of the window on to the stone flagging beneath. But if the amateur picture-hunter takes his misfortunes with equanimity, cultivates simplicity and unity in his subjects, learns some tricks in development, and keeps steadily at it, the luck will turn and he will find himself now and then rewarded with a genuine picture-or what his indulgent friends profess to regard as such.

T

HE trolley-car has been called the poor man's automobile so often that it is worth while to point out that he who would have an enjoyable trolley trip can double his pleasure if he plans for doing the thing liberally both as to time and expenditure. Above all, go to good hotels, preferably summer hotels rather than business hotels; lay out your day's ride, if possible, so as to reach before night some pleasing small town or summer resort where you know there is a good inn; avoid rge cities, except perhaps as terminals; almost invariably the trolleycar in or near a city is crowded, uncomfortable, and wearisome. But when liberality as to time-allowance is advised, liberality proportionate to the special trip is meant, not necessarily a long time absolutely. For a two-day trip may be as easily planned and as enjoyable as one for a week, and I am inclined to think that two or three short journeys with an interval of rest and change between times are more enjoyable than any single long trip. There are those who take joy in going, say, from Philadelphia to Boston in the shortest time possible, and who point with pride to a record of one hundred and fifty miles in a day; but this is to lose sight of the true recreative and vacation spirit, even as did the "scorcher" of the bygone bicycle era. Happier are they who travel at their leisure, perhaps in a congenial party of

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three or four; who choose an attractive trolley country, where there are large, heavy-powered cars, either open or fitted with cross-seats and large windows; who find a route where the runs are moderately fast and not interrupted by stoppages at every street corner, and where the conditions of travel are such that there is likely to be plenty of room, where the scenery is attractive, and where there are things of historical or picturesque interest to examine by the way. thirty to sixty miles in a day is an amply rapid rate of progress for such an excursion; and it is the advantage of trolleytouring that one does not have to think much of time-tables, and, within reasonable limits, may make stops long or short as fancy dictates, occasionally dropping off for a walk down an inviting road or for a quiet nooning at some pretty village, or for a side trip off the main route. As the trolley system has expanded, opportunities for little tours into new territory have increased, and no doubt these pathways for viewing scenically beautiful country will continue to open-in the Catskill region, for instance, new lines involving the most difficult engineering feats are already planned. As an illustration of trips easily undertaken and abounding in interest, I may mention the route along the Connecticut River. Hartford is an excellent starting-place for this trip, which might extend as far as Greenfield, including visits to Spring