Here is a window with closed shutters:  [Illustration] Latin equivalent, the letter P. It is a reminder of the technical outline of this book.  The Intimate Photoplay, as I have said, is but a window where we open the shutters and peep into some one’s cottage.  As to the soul meaning in the opening or closing of the shutters, it ranges from Noah’s opening the hatches to send forth the dove, to the promises of blessing when the Windows of Heaven should be opened.

Here is the picture of an angle:  [Illustration] Latin equivalent, Q. This is another reminder of the technical outline.  The photoplay interior, as has been reiterated, is small and three-cornered.  Here the heroine does her plotting, flirting, and primping, etc.  I will leave the spiritual interpretation of the angle to Emerson, Swedenborg, or Maeterlinck.

Here is the picture of a mouth:  [Illustration] Latin equivalent, the letter R. If we turn from the dictionary to the monuments, we will see that the Egyptians used all the human features in their pictures.  We do not separate the features as frequently as did that ancient people, but we conventionalize them as often.  Nine-tenths of the actors have faces as fixed as the masks of the Greek chorus:  they have the hero-mask with the protruding chin, the villain-frown, the comedian-grin, the fixed innocent-girl simper.  These formulas have their place in the broad effects of Crowd Pictures and in comedies.  Then there are sudden abandonments of the mask.  Griffith’s pupils, Henry Walthall and Blanche Sweet, seem to me to be the greatest people in the photoplays:  for one reason their faces are as sensitive to changing emotion as the surfaces of fair lakes in the wind.  There is a passage in Enoch Arden where Annie, impersonated by Lillian Gish, another pupil of Griffith, is waiting in suspense for the return of her husband.  She changes from lips of waiting, with a touch of apprehension, to a delighted laugh of welcome, her head making a half-turn toward the door.  The audience is so moved by the beauty of the slow change they do not know whether her face is the size of the screen or the size of a postage-stamp.  As a matter of fact it fills the whole end of the theatre.

Thus much as to faces that are not hieroglyphics.  Yet fixed facial hieroglyphics have many legitimate uses.  For instance in The Avenging Conscience, as the play works toward the climax and the guilty man is breaking down, the eye of the detective is thrown on the screen with all else hid in shadow, a watching, relentless eye.  And this suggests a special talisman of the old Egyptians, a sign called the Eyes of Horus, meaning the all-beholding sun.

Here is the picture of an inundated garden:  [Illustration] Latin equivalent, the letter S. In our photoplays the garden is an ever-present resource, and at an instant’s necessity suggests the glory of nature, or sweet privacy, and kindred things.  The Egyptian lotus garden had to be inundated to be a success.  Ours needs but the hired man with the hose, who sometimes supplies broad comedy.  But we turn over the cardboard, for the deeper meaning of this hieroglyphic.  Our gardens can, as of old, run the solemn range from those of Babylon to those of the Resurrection.