Unchanged Dear Mr. Editor:

I've been putting the glass to my eyes again - yes, I said my eyes - not my lips. Am trying to get things in their true perspective. And I'm reminded of a story.

It's about a preacher and his sermon, the occasion being the thirtieth anniversary of his pastorate in a New England village. In concluding his remarks, he said: "Brothers and Sisters: During my long pastorate what changes have come over this little village! When, as a young man, I came here 'twas a mere hamlet. All was primitive. There were the rushing streams and green fields and forest-clad mountains and a few honest farmer folk. Their wants were simple, their luxuries few. Where once was the brawling brook that held many a gamey trout, there is now an orderly stream that turns the wheels of industry. Where once was the lumbering stage coach, we now have the rush of the locomotive and the buzz of the trolley. Where once was the oil lamp upon the street corner, we now have the glare of the electric arc. Our homes are illuminated with gas or electricity and in nearly every home is the telephone. Where the forests stood, the woodman's axe has been busy and on the hillside slopes are now fertile farms.

Our factories are hives of industry, our streets are alive with busy men and women. But, brethren, through all these years one thing has remained unchanged - immutable as the granite rocks that form yonder mountain - my salary."

Brother photographers: We, too, have seen marvelous changes in the past thirty years - the thirty years have marked a wondrous progress. From the wet plate to the dry, from Albumen to Solio, to Aristo and Artura, from tedious dark-room methods to the Tank; from uncertainties to certainties. From the long and painful time exposures of our earlier days we have seen the development which permits the recording of the photographic image in the thousandth part of a second. We have seen progress at every point; conveniences that we dreamed not of in the old wet plate and Albumen days have increased our comfort and elevated our art. But one thing has remained unchanged - as immutable as the solar body with whose rays we paint our pictures - the imitator.

Brother photographers: When the imitator demonstrator comes along and tells you that by hidden and occult methods his boss has gotten hold of the Artura formula and that his paper is therefore "the same as Artura," try this: Take a piece of unexposed Artura paper and a piece of unexposed "same as Artura" and put them side by side in bright sunlight, face up. Leave them until they tint. Compare the color. Some of them will come fairly close to Velox, one will bear a faint resemblance to Nepera, another to Azo, but none of the professional "same as Artura" papers will come within a mile of showing the Artura tint. And there you are.

Yours truly,