Of all my experiences in photography none were so unsatisfactory as my attempts on mountain scenery with an ordinary lens. This was especially true of the photographs of the Alps made while tramping through that heavenly tramping ground, Switzerland. The small camera made the mountains look like little humps of rocks and snow, and all the views made from a great elevation seemed to be like photographs of the waves of the ocean, smoothed out flat. These results caused me to experiment in the direction of telescopic work with the camera. It is often the case that grand mountains appear at their best only from some point so distant that the ordinary lens can produce little or nothing of the desired effect. One of the most charming views in Switzerland is the evening view of the Jungfrau as seen from the Höheweg or promenade at Interlaken, about sixteen miles from the mountain. With her robes of dazzling white she rises majestically above the Lauterbrunnen Thal to a height of nearly fourteen thousand feet. Upon several former occasions I had endeavored to photograph this queen of the Bernese Oberland, but did not succeed until I used the telephoto attachment. The two illustrations of this view [pp. 462-63] were made from the same standpoint on the Hoheweg, one with the ordinary lens, the other with the telephoto attachment added to the lens, no change being made in the camera at all. It is a pleasure to note the wonderful detail in the telephotograph, and not only that, the mountain seems to rise, giving the impression of abruptness which rarely if ever is obtained with an ordinary lens. I suppose something of this result might have been obtained with the ordinary lens had I been up in a balloon at an elevation of about four thousand feet and about three miles from the Jungfrau. The pictures of this mountain taken from the Wengern Alp do not give this beautiful effect. [Illustration: Façade of the Cathedral of Florence, from Sidewalk.] This is especially the case with Popocatepetl in Mexico, a beautiful volcanic cone rising gradually above the plateau about ten thousand feet, its snow-capped summit being over seventeen thousand feet above sea-level. Having tried in vain from several places near by, I finally succeeded in obtaining a fair view of it from the roof of the Hotel Jardin in the city of Puebla, about thirty miles or more from the peak [pp. 466-67]. Desiring to take the only train for Oaxaca, leaving Puebla at 5.30 in the morning, I was compelled to photograph the mountain rather early, and the atmosphere was not at that time in the best condition, so that the reader would have needed a field-glass to see the mountain clearly. To obtain good results with the telephoto attachment a clear atmosphere is a _sine qua non_.