The Optical Magic Lantern Journal (December 1891)

186 Tho Optioal Magio Lantern Journal and Photographio Enlarger. Hints and Helps.—No. 4. By C. FE. RENDLE. CHRISTMASTIDE REMINISCENCES “T love to sit with the children Around the Christmas fire, And tell them fairy legends, Of which we never tire. When the snow has fallen and drifted, When hips and haws are ripe, I draw my chair close to the hearth, And so enjoy my pipe.” The Gardener's Song of the Seasons. By digressing somewhat from my subject, the Editor will no doubt pardon me when he considers the approaching season, the season when all lanternists should (so to speak) be up to their ears in business. The flood-gates of that mysterious something, known as Christmas literature, have been thrown wide open; the shop windows are teeming with Pictures of all sizes and colours. Christmas Cards are in abundance —some pretty, others novel, and some so beautiful, that one is at a loss to know where the ideas emanate from. The historical associations of the twenty-fifth are too familiar to dwell upon. It has been called the children's boon ~a fact we will endorse in its entirety, for although, as the years advance, we are apt to get tired of the repeated excitement, the youngster will ever be charmed (so long as their ignorance lasts) with the yearly visits of their old, dear old friend, ‘Santa Claus," who creeps so successfully down everybody's chimney, leaving some traces behind him that he was not unmindful of their recent good behaviour. The huge collection this strange old personage carries with him is beyond comprehension, from a bon-bon to an elephant : “Phere ave balls, books, and horses, All pleasing to see, And birds of all colours are perched on the tree; While Santa Claus laughing Stands out at the top, Asif getting ready more presents to drop.” The first lantern experience I can remember dates from the Christmas evening of 1860. I was a boy at school. I think it wise to mention this that I may not be considered older than I reallyam. Itwasa severe winter. The ponds frozen over at the foot of the meadow, where we skated all Christmas morning. The fields were covered with snow; our little cottage, in the north of England, enveloped by hoar-frost. Uncle Bob had brought us about a month previously, a book of a real pantomime, and promised to paint some pictures to illustrate the dialogue with his magic lantern, if we would undertake to Study the parts. That was enough. There were my brothers and sisters, and one or two other brothers and sisters, assembled next evening to hear mother read “ Valentine and Orson; or, the Wild Man and the Gorilla,” after which the parts would be chosen, Bridget, my eldest sister, was the selected Valentine, while the narrator was to be the Orson. Uncle Bob generously volunteered to be cast for the Gorilla, who really had nothing to say, the speciality of the part being to froan in the right place. The rehearsals were enthusiastic. Mother worked very hard as general tutor, musical director, and so on, while the scenic artist was getting on as quickly with his painted slides as he could wish. There were a dozen pictures in all for this lengthy exhibition. Remember we had not | the facilities for making a selection from a catalogue , such as you see to-day, but glad to get what we could. The evening came; the lantern set up; the sheet across the kitchen ; exhibitor and performers on one side, the invited guests on the other. I’ve thought since the anticipation was greater than the realization, for Uncle Bob was in difficulties before the first item was closed—the lamp went out; the colza was bad. The band had to play while the fault was put right. After that, however, things improved ;_ everything went well, and success was our reward. How we shouted with delight; we could not speak our lines for laughing ; the part-singing was impeded with an occasional ripple ; and Uncle Bob could not groan for the hilarity underneath his waistcoat. Imagine, if you can, a hand-painted slide about a foot square, the principal characters in which were movable; the scene—a rocky mountain ; Valentine’s visit to Orson’s home ; the Gorilla (Orson's mother), dancing around, while her son describes, in pathetic language, something about his infancy. Take a verse :— Air: “The Power of Love.” Orson: “ This, my mother dear! which I so much adore, My infancy did rear, upon this rocky floor, Taught me first to steal, and take what wasn’t mine: Mutton, pork, and veal for us both to dine. Don’t I love my mother.” Gorilla: “Growls.” Orson: “ This, my only mother.” Gorilla: “ Growls and howls... . . ” But it gave pleasure to us youngsters; and much can be done in this way by any of us possessing a lantern, however crude it may be. I should look to-day upon Uncle Bob’s with suspicion; but why should I? He did his best ; the best of us can do no more. Let Christmas night be for the children’s show; they will never forget it; you will never regret it. Heys Editorial Table. LANTERN CARRIER.—We havereceived from Messrs. Perken, Son, and Rayment, a new form of carrier which by pressure on a pin causes the lantern slide to rise up into the hand. The engraving will at once show its principle. LECTURER’S READING LAMP AND DESK.—A short time ago, Mr. W. I. Chadwick sent us a parcel of small dimensions, which on being unpacked and the contents unfolded and set up, proved to he a complete