The Letters of Annabel Lee

Radio Record, Volume I, Issue 18, 18 November 1927, Page 6

The Letters of Annabel Lee

My Dear Elizabeth, With the rest, on Friday the 11th J stood in silence with bent head, as is enjoined on us lest we forget, amid the hurtle of things, those who fought and died that we may live, those who "will not grow old as we who are left grow old." "Iwas a strange calm that fell on our bustling town for those two long minutes, not the scrape of a tram or the smack of a hammer broke the stillness, even a cold little breeze that blew seeming to hold its breath, while all sorts and conditions, wool king and wharf lumper, just and unjust, bond and free, stood motionless and communed with the past. Time halted, nine years were as. nothing, while our hearts remembered a past sunny November morning. Clearly I recalled the bells clashing the tidings to joyfully incredulous ears; and afterwards, as I stood in a garden on Wellington Terrace, there came a sudden clear singing of children. Piercing and joyous and sweet was that paean of joy; to overwrought nerves telling of hope fluttering a shattered wing, a new dawning after the world’s long nightmare. English Elsie, whom I chanced to meet on Friday, was in Salonica when news of the Armistice came through, but, true to her reticent type, says little about it. Greatly does she pine for London the beloved, with which she hopes to be more and more in contact through broadcasting, that miracle of the air profoundly mysterious to me, but concerning which she has a quite amazing knowledge. We bought tickets for the Doll’s House now being raffled for the R.S.A., without hope of winning it on my part, for I’m not one of the lucky ones, as a stout and stodgy matron observed with truth when discussing my chances of attaining the holy estate! "Look not thou down, but up!" Rabbi Ben Ezra’s counsel in Browning’s great poem, might serve as text for "Seventh Heaven," a production of the Fox Film Company, screened privately last week at the De Luxe Theatre. Not for those who doast they are tired of the war, and al] pertaining to it, is this poigant story

that grips the interest and plays on the emotions even of those who, like Hermione, are not prone to tears. It is a story of Paris, and the love of a "sewer rat" and gutter girl, whose shabby garret so near the stars was to them a paradise, Much ot a braggart is the aimple, valiant Chico, something of an atheist, a great deal of a hero; his ambition being to forsake his horrible task amid the refuse of the slums and become a street cleaner. This hos is realised through the kind offices of one of those padres whom the war taught us to revere. But Chico did not long revel in his rise to fortune; for the Great Clash came, there was no opportunity for even the briefest of wedding ceremonies, only time for a clasping of hands, the words exchanged "Chico, Diane-Heaven!’ and another soldier of France tramped away to thé melancholy and majestic music of ‘The Marsellaise." The girl who calls forth his chivalrous devotion is appealing and tender and true; and when her bold and careless lover returns from the war, battered and blinded, it is through her faith and loyalty that this Quixote of the slums finds his belief in le bon Dieu whom he had doubted. So the wistful story ends on a note of hope, and is superbly acted by the two stars Janet Gaynor and Charles Darrell, who, it is not surprising to learn, found themselves famous after their great performanee in this film. The Choral Society in "Aida" was lucky in its conductor, Mr. Colin Muston, and that the audience appreciated him was manifested by acclamation. Also the soloists were artistic, conscientious, and some of them dramatic. Miss Kate Campion is the possessor of a pure and flexible soprano, and a temperament admirably adapted to emotional display. Myr. Barry Coney, as always, gave a delightful rendition. Mr. Hubert Carter’s voice and interpretation were beyond cavil, while Miss Mina Caldow’s beautiful contralto "was very effective though she might, with advantage, have infused more fervour into the music. Mr. Harison Cook is always worth while, whether in excerpt from opera, rol-

licking barearolle, or Scottish ballad. The remaining soloists were adequate, the choir and orchestra more than common good. Altogether a distinctive rendering of Verdi’s fiery ‘and dramatic work, which in its Oriental blaze and splendour was produced in Australia a year cr so ago by the Quinlan Opera Company. To the jigg and jazz, and amid the spectacular decorations of the Ritz tea-room, I saw a mannequin parade of champagne shoes and stockings (only one pair of patent leathers), hats large and befeathered enough to satisfy Mrs. ‘Enry 7Awkins, and some very lovely frocks and frills, the latter being quite noticeable as a trimming. Such a crowd of worshippers at the sartorial shrine. I had positively to work my passage through the patient queue to reach my place in the sun, or rather the electric light, so pleasantly dimmed by the fascinating coloyrful Shades that are a feature of this restaurant. The garments on show included a filmy frock of the tint known as bsicuit, the wide hat attractively trimmed with a huge matching poppy. You would have liked a sports suit, of the blue beloved by many, th epockets and close-fitting "cloche’" adorned with a flat, flat flower of red, which was very smart and extremely reminiscent of an enlarged decorative postage stamp. Also I saw a flowered blue georgette, with crystal buttons, the ubiquitous fur slung round the shoulder being of white fox; and a cream georgette fiatly pleated over flesh pink, worn with the prevailing large hat-the whole thing’ eminently becoming to some slim girl, or even one not so slim. . You should send for an apple green velvet coat which I admired, very shirry and shmimery, and ruffled with miraculous skill midway between the collar and hem; also a hat of your favourite beige, with a drooping plume of th ekind worn by the Duchess of York. You see there is plenty of choice when you come to make your Christmas purchases. I do hone that will be quite soon.-

Yours,

ANNABEL

LEE