It is said that twelve years were spent in making these pictures. That is quite likely; it would seem that twelve years would be a reasonable allowance for anyone even to glimpse the places shown in these remarkable views, not to speak of the time necessarily consumed in waiting for the sun to arrive in the fortifications to inspire the camera. It would certainly require something like twelve columns of space to relate the sights, feasts, fearful feasts, hunts, and other out-of-the-ordinary happenings in far-off lands with which the inhabitants are confronted. There is no attempt at order, either of time or place. At one moment, the spectator is smiling, or trying to smile, at a monster that might serve as a model for a gargoyle; the next he is "sickened by a combat to the death blow" as big as a dog and a lizard as big as a seal, neither more than a foot from the eye, and the next he is thrilling at the sight of naked Mars, charging a lion in the open. They dash in and throw their long spears, until the jungle king is a heavy-natured pincushion; then the lion dashes back and tries to make it. He says it's too harrowing just there, and I believe him. Nobody ought to look at such a thing. He doesn't carry.  That part of the film with him; I asked him, as a matter of fact, that lion hunt makes Leary's closest close-up seem as tame and futile a thing as a Jitney peace expedition. The spectator is much closer in at the actual death than the average man gets to a football scrimmage. And the details are much clearer. 