and rushed into the house, returning a moment later to answer, "Bill."
That particular board of censors seemed intent upon keeping secret the
fact that there are two sexes.

Of course, it may be argued that motion pictures are not an art and
that it makes little difference what happens to them. We cannot share
that indifference. Enough has been done in pictures to convince us
that very beautiful things might be achieved if only the censors could
be put out of the way. Not all the silliness of the modern American
picture is the fault of the producers. Much of the blame must rest
with the various boards of censorship. It is difficult to think up
many stories in which there is no passion, crime, or birth. As a
matter of fact, we are of the opinion that the entire theory of motion
picture censorship is mistaken. The guardians of morals hold that if
the spectator sees a picture of a man robbing a safe he will thereby
be moved to want to rob a safe himself. In rebuttal we offer the
testimony of a gentleman much wiser in the knowledge of human conduct
than any censor. Writing in "The New Republic," George Bernard Shaw
advocated that hereafter public reading-rooms supply their patrons
only with books about evil characters. For, he argued, after reading
about evil deeds our longings for wickedness are satisfied
vicariously. On the other hand there is the danger that the public may
read about saints and heroes and drain off its aspirations in such
directions without actions.

We believe this is true. We once saw a picture about a highwayman
(that was in the days before censorship was as strict as it is now)
and it convinced us that the profession would not suit us. We had not
realized the amount of compulsory riding entailed. The particular
highwayman whom we saw dined hurriedly, slept infrequently, and