Screenland (Sept 1922–Feb 1923)

56 aajywooA SCREENLAKD C»iifi™i» nlyliat fe-Out Door Life — because it's the most practical. Right up to the minute in style. That's why thousands of girls are wearing them. Simply great for sport wear. It stays put — looks charming — puts a finishing touch to your outdoor appearance. Looks wonderful on PriscillaDean. It will look just as w Jl on you. The hat with the rakish, jaunty, carefree appearance Prisciila Dean Tarns come in two sizes — «k for yotmg ladies, the oilier for children For yottr vacation—a Prisciila Dean Tarn. The only practical hat for girls Kith bobbed hair And such wonderful colors! You ca-i select one to harmonize with any costume — whec her you're motoring, hiking, boating, golfing, playing tennis — in fact, it s the on/y hat for strcec wear. Prisciila Dean Tarns arc made of the finest quality s-iede cloth a soft pliable material that drapes so gracefully at any an gle. Always has that trim, tailor-mide look because the inner clastic band makes it fit any head comfortably. A neat band of grosgrained ribbon and a cute little bow complete the picture. Your wardrobe is not complete without a Prisciila Dean Tam. It costs only $1.50. No reason why you should not have at least one besides your regular hat. The best stores carry Prisciila Dean Tarns. Bur if you cannot get it, send £1.50 with the coupon or letter. Be sure to state color and whecher for young lady or child. Look for the name PRISCILLA DEAN inside the band Twelve Popular Shades Red, Pheasant, Copenhagen, Nary, Black, Sand, Jade, I White, Orange, Brown, Orchid,Coral BAER BROS. MFG. CO., 9c6 W. Lake St., Chicago, 111. Enclosed is S, 50 (Canada, #2 00) for which dI Mse send me a PRISCILLA DEAN TAM In vr, For_ Color Miss o/Caud Namc I Address—. Money refunded if desired. My Trip Abroad (Continued from Page 31.) to him considerably. I feel a sort of master of the situation. It's a comfortable feeling. Is his reticence real or is this some wonderful trick of his, this making his guest feel superior. His tired-looking, sensitive eyes at first seem rather severe and serious, but suddenly I am aware of something keen, quick and twinkling in them. His wife has arrived. A very young ladv of great charm, who makes you feel instantly her artistic capabilities even in ordinary conversation. Shortly after his wife comes in Burke and I leave, I feeling very much the tourist in the hands of the supercity guide. "What, where— anything particular that I want to see?" This rather scares me but I take it as a challenge and make up my mind that I will know him. He is difficult, and somehow, I don't believe that he cares for movie actors. Maybe I am only possible copy to him ? He seems to be doing me a kindness and I find myself feeling rather stiff and on my best behavior, but I resolve that before the evening is through I will make him open up and like me, for I am sure that his interest is well worth while. I have nothing to suggest except that we ramble along with nothing deliberate in view. I feel that this pleases him, for a light of interest comes into his eves, chasing one of responsibility. We" are just going to stroll along. BAER BROS. MFC. CO . MFCS °f phi sen , ^ aE%X J>.g AS Burke and I ramble along toward no place in particular, I talk about his book. I have read Limclwuse Nights as he wrote it. There is nothing I could see half so effective. We discuss the fact that realities such as he has kept alive seldom happen in a stroll, but I am satisfied. I don't want to see. It could not be more beautiful than the book. There is no reaction to my flattery. I must watch good taste. Passing up my obvious back-patting, I feel that he is very intelligent, and I am silent for quite a while as we stroll along toward Stephney. There is a greenish mist hanging about everything and we seem to be in a labyrinth of narrow alleyways, now turning into streets, and then merging into squares. He is silent and we merely walk. And then I awaken. I see his purpose. I can do my own story — he is merely lending me the tools. And what tools they are! I feel that I have served an ample apprenticeship in their use, through merely reading hi-; stories. I am fortified. It is so easy now. He has given me the stories before. Now he is telling them over in pictures. The very shadows take on hfc and romance. The skulking, strutting, mincing, hurrying forms that pass us and fade out into the night are now becoming characters. The curtain has risen on Limehouse Nights, dramatized with the original cast. There is a tang of the east in the air and I am tinglingly aware of something vital, living, moving, in this murky atmosphere that is more intense even for the occasional dim light that peers out into the soft gloom from attic windows and storerooms or municipal lights that gleam on the street corners. Here is a little slice of God's fashioning, where love runs hand in hand with death, where poetry sings in withered Mongolian hearts, even as knives are buried in snowwhite breasts and swarthy necks. Here hearts are broken casually but at the same time there comes just as often to this lotus and the pity, terror and wonder of first love, and who shall say which is predominant? Behind each of those tiny garret windows lurks life, life in its most elemental costume. There is no time, thought or preparation for anything but the elemental passions, and songs of joy, hope and laughter are written into each existence, even as the killings go on, surelv, swiftly. lnerc must be a magic wand forever doing a pendulum swing over this land, tor the point of view often changes from the beastly to the beautiful, and in one short moment the innocent frequently gather the sophistication of the aged 1 hese creatures of life's game run blithely along their course, ignorant of the past, joyful in the present and careless of the future, while their tiny lightened windows seem to wink deliberately as they make pinpricks of light through the shuttered gloom. the other side of the street there is w stepping a little lady whose cheap cotton clothes are cut with Parisian cunning, and as we cross and pass her we discern beauty, enhanced many fold by youth and vitality, but hardened with premature knowledge. I can't help but think of little Gracic Goodnight, the little lady who resented the touch of a "Chink," so much so that she filled the fire extinguishers in his place with oil, and when he was trapped in the blazing building, calmly and with a baby smile upon her face, poured the contents of the extinguisher over him and his furniture. There is 'the Queen's theatre, bringing forward a mental picture of little Gina of Chinatown, who stopped a panic in the fire-frightened audience of the playhouse as her debut offering on the stage. Little Gina, who brought the whole neighborhood to her feet in her joyous dancing delight. Little Gina, who at 1+ had lived, laughed and loved, and who met death with a smile, carrying the secret of him with her. Every once in a while Burke merely lifts his stick and points. His gesture needs no comment. He has located and made clear without language the only one object he could possibly mean, and, strangely, it is always something particularly interesting to me. He is most unusual. What a guide he is. He is not showing me Main street, not the obvious, not even the sightseer's landmarks, but in this rambling I am getting the heart, the soul, the feeling. I feel that he has gauged me qutckljwthat he knows I love feelings rather than details, that he is unconsciously flattering to my subtlety, after two miles through black, though lovely, shadows. Now he is picking the spots where lights are shining from the fish shops. He knows their locations, knows their lights because he has studied them well. There are forms slinking gracefully, as though on location and with rehearsed movement. What an effect for a camera. This is rugged. Here are the robust of the slums. People act more quickly here than in Lambeth. And suddenly we are back where we started. In a car we go to (Continued od'Page 58.)