South African Pictorial - Volume 17 (Jul-Dec 1923)

NovEMBER 24, 1923. A CAPE TOWN CHRONICLE. (Continued from Page 10.) run combined trips with the railways. When the Cape Town season comes to an end, then the Britannia will go up to Durban for the season there. The Little Islands. With the fine weather there comes a recrudescence of interest in those little islands of the great Southern Ocean. There is an attempt at the moment to revive the idea of an expedition to Gough Island to search for diamonds. Some years ago, on the strength of a prospector displaying a few diamonds in a Cape Town office, an expedition was actually formed and set out for Gough Island. Five white men and several Kattirs were landed on that lonely and exposed island, and they stayed there some six months, suffering inconceivable hardships before they were taken off by a whaler. They never founda single diamond. Yet there are still seafaring men to be met in Cape Town who talk glibly of caves and the certainty of diamonds existing on Gough Island. But firms are wary of financing another expedition. Island of Wild Dogs. Another expedition to an island of the Southern Ocean left Cape Town this week. It was on a Belgian steamer, Oural, and is bound for Kerguelen, an island known to the seal-hunters of Cape Town. On board the Belgian steamer were several Frenchmen who have been entrusted by their Government to explore Kerguelen and report as to the possibility of rearing sheep and pigs there. The island is claimed as a French possession, having first been discovered by a French expedition. Some years ago sheep were landed at Kerguelen, but did not thrive—not on account of climatic conditions, but because of attacks from the wild dogs which infest the place. The dogs, when hungry, killed the sheep and ate them. Sealers in Cape Town often tell weird stories of packs of dogs descending from the peaks and attacking sea elephants, seals and other beasts of the island. ‘These dogs which roam the island are the descendants of the pet or mascot dogs of wrecked ships. Whalers Homing. Meanwhile, every day sees stealing into Cape Town harbour those queer little craft with a gun for’ard—the whalers. The season is now ending, and it has been a record one. True, there has only been one whale with a fortune inside it caught; that was the whale caught off Durban containing ambergris worth £240,000. But several fine large sperm whales have been landed, and the output of whale-oil is larger than ever this year. Cape Town Prices. Several visitors to Cape Town from up-country lately have been complaining that prices in the shops here are higher than those in Johannesburg. Whether it be cigarettes, clothes, breakfasts or whiskies-and-sodas, the visitor complains that he is charged more here than he is in Johannesburg. It does seem a fact that as the season approaches so prices become appreciably higher. This is surely a short-sighted policy on the part of shopkeepers here. Bathing Begins. Bathing in the sea has now begun, and shop-windows in Adderley Street flaunt gaily-coloured costumes to those who wish to indulge in the pleasures of surfing. On the Sea Point side it is still only the most hardy who go swimming. ‘The sea ean be mighty cold there, and even the hardy are content with a shivering rush, a quick plunge, and a shivering rush back again. But on the Muizenberg side, where the sea is much warmer, surfing has begun in earnest. The joys of being able to control a board are still for the few, but it is uw sport worth the trouble of learning. . . And the parade at Muizenberg on a Sunday is now almost as blatant as Brighton. THE BERACHCOMBER. SOUTH AFRICAN PICTORIAL. 13 IN THE BRIGHT LIGHTS. EMPIRE PacKED TO THE Doors FoR FicHt FILMS | AND Harry CLAFF. night and many people were turned away because there was not room for them to sit or stand in the theatre. The special attractions were the first public screenings in South Africa of the Dempsey-Firpo and CarpentierBeckett fight films, the first appearance of Harry Claff in his “‘ Bluff King Hal ’’ sketch, and the delightful singing of Miss Lillian Burgiss, the English ballad soprano, who is now in her second week at the Empire. After The African Mirror, which shows this week some interesting scenes of the Armistice celebrations at other centres of the Union, the vaudeville programme was opened by The Three Listers, three boys in dinner-jackets and straw hats, with silver-headed black walking-sticks, who harmonised some ragtime dance-songs with one of them at the piano. They are three choristers from the just-disbanded musical-comedy company, and this appearance was a, “‘ tryout.’’ They opened breezily, but lost grip a bit as the act progressed and grew slightly ‘‘ ragged.’’ The act will improve a lot when it has been worked a little longer. The Buchanan Girls, who followed, have my sympathy. They have everything in their favour—youth, vivacity, talent, novelty—except the one fact that Dollie and Billie have just left us. Olive Carew, in her first week, sang some frothy numbers, and I think she sang them rather well, but I was too busy wondering why she billed herself as ‘* The September Morn Girl ’’ to pay much attention. When I read not long ago what is known as an ‘‘ advance paragraph ’’ which informed me that Miss Lillian Burgiss was able to “‘ lift the most commonplace bdillad into a distinctive work of art,’’ the statement did not impress me much because I had not at that time heard Miss Burgiss sing; at least, not for two years. Now I know it to be literally true (so don't disbelieve or pass over lightly all you may read in ‘‘ advance paragraphs ’’). I suppose everybody will concede that Miss Ada Reeve knows as much as, if not more than, anybody on any branch of the vocal stage about the art of ‘* working a number.’’ Nevertheless I do not think Ada Reeve could teach the Lillian Burgiss of to-day much about this form of artistry. This precisely is where Miss Burgiss has so improved herself since she was here in 1921, and her voice is as delightful and her enunciation as faultless as ever they were. We should not hear so much about ‘‘ the decline of vaudeville ’’ if there were more acts like that of Miss Burgiss on the variety stage. Spry and Monti opened the second half with an act which, both in manner and material, was a great improvement on their offering of the previous week. Harry Claff’s ‘‘ Bluff King Hal ’’ business is well written, and he himself well sustains (of course in serio-comic vein) the character of the much-married monarch. He wears a magnificent costume, and is prettily assisted by Miss Winnie Wager, who received three baskets of beautiful flowers over the footlights. After his ‘‘ turn ’’ proper Mr. Claff made a speech of thanks before the tabs, and then (from the same position and for some reason that was not clear to anybody) created an anti-climax by singing two T HE Empire was packed to its top-tier boxes on Monday complete verses (I don’t know whether this song has any more verses, but I hope not) of ‘‘ The Song that Reached my Heart.’’ That was a mistake which so experienced a performer might well have avoided, and which I expect he is now avoiding. Mannie Gilbert and Billie Chapman repeated their decided success of the previous week—much to the delight of a ‘‘ stag ’’ party in three centre-tier boxes, who had also overwhelmed Miss Burgiss with applause. Ford and Aldous were the closing ‘* turn able dancing act. The fight films were followed with the closest attention. Certainly nobody interested in boxing should miss either of them. The, Dempsey-Firpo picture is particularly sensational, and the Carpentier-Beckett film scarcely less so. PARADINE. "3; an accept