Geography again--how vastly more entertaining a lesson would be if the scholar was taken for a short trip through the country that was under examination. London in the early days of the cinema had several halls where only scenery was shown; and they were very popular. To-day the taste has declined and everyone wants melodrama. But those old topographical films are not lost and they would be priceless for quickening the imagination of the young at school. I made some of these suggestions to Mr. Furley, but he was not enthusiastic. He is a serious man with taste, but he does not let that interfere with his business. "In our trade," he said, "you must give the public what they want. People like you come to me and say, 'Why don't you raise the tone of the films and make them more instructive?' But I want to retire, and in order to do that I must make money. I used to have a notion once that I would be ahead of the time, but I've given that up. The fact is, the cinema managers who buy my films won't let me. They decide what the public want, or the public want what they decide: I'm not sure which it is, but whichever it is, there's no chance for much that isn't vulgar. After the real events, and now and then a landscape film, everything has to be either passionate or comic.' "Well," I said, "the time must surely come, and soon, when the cinema will begin to need brains. All this sham stuff will fatigue and the real thing will have a chance. If you take my advice you will try to be in the van. As it is, I feel sure that London could stand one hall at any rate where something better was given. There are such possibilities. Satire, for example, never had such an ally. Think how deadly at political meetings could a film be which depicted the rival candidate in ridiculous situations! Think of what Socialism might gain from a series of views of the stately homes of England and their idle plutocratic owners at play! Think of the way in which the cinema could fortify and supplement the work of the illustrated papers! No, you are only just beginning, and it is absurd for you to talk of retiring yet. For every ten camera films you make, to satisfy the stupid public, you ought to make one good one for your conscience's sake." But Mr. Furley only laughed. "You don't know the ignorant buyers I have to deal with," he said. "Then open theatres of your own," I urged. "Not for anything," he replied. "No, I want to get out of it all. It's getting on my nerves. I can't sleep. My eyes have turned into lenses and my brain into a camera, and I see everything like that. Nothing but farming will do me any good, and I want to get to my farm as soon as I can and stop there. When I'm talking to people--as it might be you now--I find myself all ready to swear at them for not being more animated. I search the papers for the death of kings, because there's nothing so popular as royal funerals. I'm a lost soul."