Topical films, such as the pictures of the recent Durbar in India or some other great current event, are very valuable when quickly sent broadcast. Of course the photographer must have the same news instinct that the reporter has to get good topical films, for he must get there first and deliver his picture "story" to his studio "editors" as quickly as possible. The photographers often have hair-raising adventures in taking such films, as the single instance of the man who went up Mount Vesuvius during an eruption and took a cinematograph film of it will show. The greatest variety of experiences, however, is to be found in the making of dramatic films--that is, motion-picture plays. As every boy knows, these stories have just as wide a range as the books in a library. There are plays based on biblical stories, and plays dealing with Wild West adventures; there are farces, comedies, and tragedies; in fact, there is no limit to the variety. These plays, however, can be divided roughly into two classes--that is, those that are produced on the motion-picture studio stage and those produced out of doors with the natural surroundings as the stage. The interesting things about either kind would fill a book the size of this. In the early days of cinematography only simple shows were attempted, but now nothing is too big or too complicated or too expensive for the big concerns making pictures in the United States and Europe. The first motion-picture studio here was simply a portable, glass roofed, black walled shed set on a pivot in Edison's yard in Orange, N. J. It was called the Black Maria and makes an interesting contrast to the great glass studio at Bronx Park, N. Y., costing $100,000, in which many of the Edison films are now made. All well-equipped motion-picture studios these days are fitted out with space for several stages; a great tank for water scenes, carpenter shops, scene-painting studios, furniture and other stage properties to furnish scenes, costumes, stage fittings, and a great corps of photographers, mechanics, electricians, etc., besides the company of well-paid actors who take part in the shows. If a play is to be reproduced in the studio, the architect draws the plans for the scenery, which are sent to the stage carpenters, who make the framework and stretch the canvas. The blank scenery is then sent to the racks, where the scene painters get to work on it. In the meantime the property man at the studio, just like the property man at a theatre, has received a list of the things he will need to furnish the scene and give the actors the paraphernalia necessary for the carrying out of the play. He ransacks his storeroom and brings out tables, chairs, pictures, etc. The studio costumer also checks off her list and sees that she has in her great wardrobe costumes to dress the characters for their parts.