Dear Eagle: So you are going to have a new name and a new cover and are going to spread yourself. Good for you.

You have done a lot toward helping the fraternity to make good. You have stood for quality, quality, quality. And that has helped all of us. Most of us have adopted also as our motto, "We believe permanency is the Keystone of Photographic Success." You have helped us in upholding the courage of our convictions when tempted to price cutting; you have helped us to improved quality and therefore to better prices; you have helped us, especially in the early days when we were not on so familiar a footing with good old Aristo, by your timely suggestions from the technical side. When we have fallen down you have helped us to our feet.

Latterly. I am glad to note that you have been widening the field - have been telling us about plates and bromide papers and how to work them, and about plate development and the new tank methods. You have been getting too broad gauge for your old title, and I'm glad of it. We don't need the technical helps about Aristo so much now, and you might better take up the space by talking about other matters which, though not the backbone of our business, we are more in need of because not so familiar with. I shall miss the old green and gold cover, but I am sure that I shall soon learn to welcome the new one whatever it may be. But, Mr. Editor, I'm sore. I think you are suffering from a chronic attack of blue-pencil-itis. The nice things I have said about you above you will publish of course. But I don't like the way you impale me on that infernal blue pencil every time I dip my pen in red ink and try to say tilings. You're too calm. Why don't you flare up at the incessant stream of nasty nothings that are thrown at you by "inspired" jealous journalists who fire at you at so much per "inspire"? I got a copy of the January Eagle the other day, and sticking right out in plain sight in that preferred position, first right hand page following and facing pure reading matter. A\as the Commercial Aristo Platino price list. Every photographer in the land could see it. The same mail brought me a copy of the Itinerant-Anti-Organ, containing an attack on your company regarding Commercial Aristo Platino at $1.60 per gross which wound up with this statement: "The letter in question, while sent out pretty broadly, appears to have have been sent only to those studios which are known to have acquired the developing paper habit."

Same old trick - same old misrepresentation - same old hiding behind appears to be" and "it is alleged."

Here's some more from the same paper, same article, same page: 'As everybody knows, the standard price of cabinets, for some years past, has been $2.00 per gross, less a small cash discount. The price was originally lower, but was boosted when the company thought it had control of the paper situation and when raw stock went up in value."

The Fact Is That The Price Of Aristo Platino Cabinets Has Never Been Less Than $2.00 Per Gross.* Somebody has, - well, I suppose if I said what, I think you would use your old blue pencil, so here goes for a milder statement - Somebody has, either through dense and inexcusable ignorance or else wilfully, that is to say, intentionally and with malice aforethought, so far deviated from the truth as to have uttered a falsehood.

And say, pencil this or not, as you please, did you ever notice how the d. o. p. shouters, when they want to tell how nice a thing is, have to compare, even in print, with your products? Going into editorial ecstacy over prints on somebody's D. O. paper, the Itinerant-Anti-Organ man says that some of them have 'the delicate olive tone of the collodion print" and others "have all the richness of color of that "Will-'o-the-Wisp, Angelo." The printer's boy says that they call Angelo a "Will-'o-the-Wisp" because they "can't touch it."

Hoping that you have left your blue pencil in your other vest, I am, Yours truly.

Stereoscope.