witness—his incorruptible truth-teller that reveals the facts just as they were. On the desk in the office the photograph shows up. To the right in the picture stands the angler with his rod and reel; everybody recognizes him; it is a good likeness. To the left, strung out so that each shows up in detail, are the twenty-seven big ones. In the background there is a glimpse of a boat and some water. The picture ought to be convincing ; to anybody, to everybody, but somehow it is never accepted as unimpeachable evidence. The camera, it is well known, can ; be made to prevaricate in several different ways. The suspicious queries are not put to rest; on the contrary they become more varied and more searching. Is it a trick photograph? Did you have the photographs of one fish pasted in a row twenty-seven times and then the effect copied? Did you buy the photograph and then paste in your own picture and have the fixture rephotographed?     Ingenious as it is, photographing the catch has failed to carry conviction to a cynical and unbelieving world. The fish story has not been suppressed—it will never be suppressed—but it just stays a fish story. And it is best so; if there were no imagination in a fish story it would be flat indeed. From— Evening Star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.), 22 July 1905. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.