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PicKires and Pichjrepver
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A Canterbury Street seen in "If Winter Comes." Circle : Near Loch Lomond in a British movie.
of rowan trees and woods carpeted with blaeberries, real enough and beautiful enough to bring a lump into the throat of the Scotsman far from home.
Then came the Rob Roy company, many hundred strong, for trainloads of "extras" were drafted from Glasgow and Stirling to attend the Chieftain & funeral, and a whole regiment of soldiers detailed from Stirling Castle to swell the numbers in the big battle scenes. Earlier still Donald crisp had made Reside the Bomiic Briar Bush in the country of the Briar, and pictured the cottagers' life, the Sabbath morning, the courting by the stream, the kilted postman on his hilly round. It is a tribute to the manner of its making that Beside the Bonnie Briar Bush, when it was shown in Canada after much delay and difficulty, broke all records
FEBRUARY 1924
there and drew packed houses night after night. And they're critical enough over there ! They know the goods from home — they know the genuine trade mark. And the Scotland of Beside the Bonnie Briar Bush was the Scotland they remembered and loved.
Southward again — and let us pause on the Yorkshire Moors, to look at the grey walls, the bleak, powerful stretches of Wuthcring Heights, where horse and rider travel for lonely miles along the heather, in the teeth of the wind, with not a sign of human habitation for so far as the eye can reach. Grim farmhouse; stone-bounded road — hard with that iron harness which Yorkshire alone understands.
On our way to Norfolk, where we are bound next, we catch a glimpse here and there of something that is typically English, as, with Brenda of the Barge we float lazily along leafy canals, and through the locks and quiet waterways that are to be found nowhere else in the world. In Norfolk we will join The Persistent Lovers for a holiday on the Broads. Who are they? Why, Guy and Ivy, of course . . . not to mention the dog. We shall have a tranquil time there, sailing and swimming, sleeping out at night under the stars, until the chilly Autumn weather drives us Southward once more.
So, by Chiddingfield and the deep Surrey lanes, we follow The Call of the. Road to that queen of English counties — Sussex. There, under the shadow of the Downs, where Chanctonbury Ring looks down on sleepy little Ashington, The Hornets' Nest was made.
And so to London, up the Horsham
Road. London has a screen poetry all
its own. Not the dignified, stately
London, beloved of American producers
(Continued on page 53).
Club,