n account of a shaky
hand.

Suppose the expedition is gunning somewhere in the backwoods. Down the
stony winding road saunters one of the natives in a two-piece suit.
Overalls and a hickory shirt constitute his entire outfit. He grows a
beard to save himself the labor of shaving. His leathery feet scarcely
feel the sharp stones of the highway. Here is a picture worth
preserving, for the "cracker" type is becoming a rarity, almost extinct.
Set your pointer at "8" and take his full length. If you wish a close-up
of his head, set the pointer at "4."

A little farther and the road plunges into a shady valley. Under the
trees ahead is a log cabin, dappled with the sunlight and the shade of
dancing leaves. Use your judgment about whether such a scene requires
"8" or "4." If in doubt, use "4," for the danger here is that you may
under-expose.

In a clearing where the shade of the trees has little effect, stands an
old water power mill. It is simply an "average view," and you can safely
snap it with a "16" stop.

The friendly razorback hogs under the mail hack make a picture with a
heavy foreground. They fall into the "8" classification--half in shade,
half in sunlight.

The road leads us at last to a river. An old-fashioned ferry boat is
making a crossing in midstream. From the hilltop where we first survey
it the scene is a landscape, distant view, and can be taken with a "32."
But when you get down to the water's edge and shoot across the shining
river, beware of overexposure. Stop down another notch.

Do you see now how the theory works? Give it a fair trial and you will
agree that taking pictures--the mere _taking_, with no bothering your
head about developing, printing, toning and the like--is a matter no
more baffling than the simple art of learning to punch the letters on
the keyboard of a typewriter. Keep at it, never neglecting an
opportunity to practice. Keep experimenting, until you can fare forth in
any sort of weather and know that you will be able to bring back
something printable upon your film or plate. If the day is not bright,
shove your timer over to one-tenth of a second, or to one-fifth.

Certain experts in photography will bitterly deride this advice to keep
the time set at one twenty-fifth of a second and to vary nothing but the
size of the lens aperture. They will point out--and be quite right about
it--that the smaller the aperture the sharper the image, and that a more
professional method of