Another famous film was “Over the Hill.” That picture helped movies along because it didn’t cost much to make—relatively speaking—but brought in as much for the producers as other films costing far more. The story, of a devoted mother who was neglected or abused by all but one of her children when she needed their help and love, was far better than the average movie, and had a big, and healthy, emotional appeal. Any fellow who could watch it without resolving to be better to his own mother would be pretty worthless. “The Old Nest,” another story of the same type, though not quite as appealing, also did well. Such pictures, worth while in themselves, and at the same time profitable, helped along the whole picture industry. [Illustration: _Courtesy United Artists Corporation._ ARCHWAY FROM “THE THREE MUSKETEERS.” A high degree of artistry has been reached in the designing of motion-picture sets.] [Illustration: _Courtesy Universal Pictures Corporation._ A MEXICAN GATEWAY FROM “WINNERS OF THE WEST.” Simplicity is often the keynote of effectiveness. Here an impressive effect is secured with a minimum of effort.] “The Copperhead,” on the other hand, and “The World and His Wife,” two of the finest films ever distributed by Paramount, did not help things along very much, because being, like “Broken Blossoms,” more or less tragic, they failed to find the audiences that might have made them profitable. A few years from now, when certain brands, names, or concerns have come to have a definite following of audiences that will know what to expect from them, “The Copperhead” or “The World and His Wife” could be distributed, in all probability, with far greater success. “The Copperhead,” in particular, a patriotic spy story of the Civil War, with the appeal that it has through the portrayal of Abraham Lincoln, as well as its stirring war setting, would be sure to please—as soon as it could find the right audience, and a big enough one. This brings us to another point of improvement that will be seen in pictures before long: good films will last longer. Just such pictures as these mentioned, for instance,—“The Copperhead,” “The World and His Wife,” “Over the Hill,” “Broken Blossoms,” and many more, will be watched and welcomed again just as gladly as was Mary Pickford’s “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm” or Griffith’s “Birth of a Nation.” The day when a good picture will “go” only when it is brand new—only when you and Dug and I have never seen it before, and go to it only because it’s new, is almost over. In the long run you and Dug and I—and Henry, too,—have more sense than that. We shall be just as willing to see and enjoy a good picture a second time—perhaps years after we saw it the first time—as we are now willing to re-read a book or story that pleased us immensely.