The Birmingham age-herald. [volume], May 04, 1913, MAGAZINE SECTION, Image 49

About The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950

Image provided by: University of Alabama Libraries, Tuscaloosa, AL

                
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Mnvmij PictuPE film, i
The Camera Man
Stands Near By
as Engines
Crash Together
on a High Bridge.
The Collision
Lasts Only Four
Minutes, Yet It
Costs the
Company
$20,000.
« I OTUIXG apparently seems too stu
I \| pemlous to be undertaken by an euier
/ i prising moving picture manufacturer
who is in the still hunt for a good
picture. Towns are destroyed, fot^s blown
up, bridges burned, trains wrecked, all to
produce a good film. x
In order to film the “ Siege of Petersburg,”
a bridge longer than Loudon bridge was built
across nil arm of the Mississippi and then
destroyed by fire. The structure cost urtauy
thousands of dollars and took many weeks
to construct ; yet it was destroyed, for the
purpose of the play, in a few minutes. The
f<>rt that is mined and blown up in the same
piece was built bv contract in less than one
week, but then the contractor bad over 800
workmen employed at the job, day and night.
Nearly a quarter of a ton of dynamite was
used in the explosion which destroyed it.
Fifteen hundred supers, of whom one thou
sand were Indians, took part in the popular
film, “ The Massacre,” and the company
which produced it had to give each of the
yodskins a horse apiece in order to retain
their services during the long series of pre
■ ■ '«- »■ ii sr —" ■ ■■■■»* ' ■■
... 111111 \m
Htninary rehearsals. They thoroughly en
joyed their work—so much so indeed that of
those who were* t.olil off to “ die ’’ early in the
play the majority preferred to stay “ alive ’’
and fire off their blank cartridges, so that the
lirst rehearsal Only resulted in three “ fatal
ities,*’ instead of about 300.
In another film of the kind tlie principal
scene was the destruction-of a settlement of
whites by a band of Indian raiders, and that
the sacking of the houses might lack nothiug
in realism a small frontier town, containing
some sixty dwellings of the usual western
wooden frame type, was purchased and fired.
In “War's Havoc,” another famous film,
two locomotive engines meet in a spectacular
collision on a high bridge, both being reduced
to scrap iron. That one episode cost the
company over $20,000, yet it occupies less
than four minutes in the showing.
Perhaps* however, the most realistic thing
wnaaiii—wiiimi
ever done in the way of battle s< enes was re
cently undertaken on the spur <»r tlie moment
by Wilbert Melville, managing director of one
of the traveling organizations.
This man was with bis company near El
Paso, Tex., when a band of revolutionists,
several hundred strong, suddenly hove in
Towns Are
Destroyed, Forts
Blown Up,
Bridges Burned,
All to Produce
Films*
Hundreds of
Persons Are
Employed in the
Making of a
War Scene.
sight cut the Mexican side of the Itio Grande.
The opportunity was Ihotight too good to le
missed. Mr. Melville hurried across the river
ami bargained for a fight—a sham one- to
take place then and there. '
The Mexican “army," nothing loath,
promptly got to work, while the members ■ f
the sto k company, who had been hurried
the field of action, enacted the part of it fed
eral patrol.
Hitt the revolutionists, iti their excitement,
started firing off Imll ammunition, and sev
eral bullets fell among the spectators on the
f'nited Stales side of the river.
As a result the chief of police at El I'aso
had the company arrested as soon as they
recrossed the river, at the same time dis
patching a messenger with explanations and
'apologies to tiic neighboring Mexican town
of Juarez, where the authorities and the
populace alike had been greatly perturbed by
the heavy firing. 'The company was after
ward arrested and fined $-.50 each and cost*
— a cheap film.
Mother** Love, Beauties and Sacrifice Told in Rhyme,
Ah! mother love, in the fiercest ill
Wlmt strength you give to a womans will!
Wlmt heroism, what self-control,
You bring to a trembling woman’s soul!
What power in moments of deep despair!
What wondrous burdens you help her heat!
—Eugene J. Hall,
ft ft
Her pious love excelled to all she bore;
New objects only multiplied it more,
And as the chosen found the pearly grain
As much as every vessel could contain.
As in the blissful vision each shall share
As much of glory ns his soul can hear,
So did slit* love and so dispense her care.
—Dryden.
ft ft
At Geneva, in company with a man of
75, I visited his mother, who was 03. Sb*
colled him “little one,’* ami when he said
“ mamma ” I knew well it was hi* childish
heart that, spoke. The world offers nothing
nobler than wlmt is behind such little s-eues.
(’h aides Wagner.
ft ft
Remember while you live,
And should you search the rounded cartti
You*I! never find a friend more'faithful
Than the one who gave you birth.
ft ft
A mother who shows to her children all
the tenderness that, she has for them creates
in them ingratitude, because ingratitude
conics of the impossibility of paying one’s
diga lions.—H. de Balzac.
ft ft '
No joy in nature is so sublimely affecting
as the joy of a mother at the good fortune
of a child.—Jean Paul Richter.
ft ft j
Listen! Can you not'still hear
How she taught you your first prayer?
O, tlic voice Unit was so dear
And Ihe hopes flint were so fair!
Ask yourself what she would say
If she guessed or if she knew—
l.isteu! 1-istep! Through her tear*
Still she calls across the years -
Calls forgivingly to you.
* *
I thought a child was given to sanctify
A woman*—set her in the sight of all
The clear eyed heavens a chosen minister
To do their business find lead spirits up
'I’lie difflotUf blue heights. A woman lives
Not bettered, quickened toward the truth and
good
Through being a mother?—then 'lie’s none.
—Eliza betli -Browning.
* ♦
Not learned save in gracious household ways;
Not perfect, tiny, hut full of tender wants;
No angel, lint a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing paradise.
Who looked all native to her place, and yet
(In tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere
Too gross to tread, and all male minds per
force
Swayed to her from their orbits as they
moved,
And girdled her with music. Happy he
With such a mother! Faith in womankind
Heats with his blood.
—Tennyson.
■i* v
The tie which links mother and child is of
smelt pure nnd immaculate strength ns to be
never violated except by those whose feel
ings are withered by vitiated society.—Wash
ington Irving.
* Us
It Is only a dream; but the world grows wise,
And a mighty truth in the dream seed lies
- (
Bishops Cannot Be Arrested
in England Save on King’s Order.
MUCH water has flowed under London
bridge since the British criminal couid
defy the strong arm of the law by
the single expedient of escaping to
the nearest church or hospital and claiming
the protection of the “sanctuary.” For down
to the early Stuart days Great Britain
had thousands of just such refuges for
the criminal, from cathedrals and royal pal
aces to scores of towns and cities, where the
guilty of felony could laugh with im
punity at the officers of law and justice for a
period ranging up to forty days. If within
t hat time he chose to g|> ^before the coroTicr,
clothed in penitence and sackcloth, and con
fess bis guilt, he was free to quit the realm
.without any hand daring to stay him.
5*. Although no such asylum exists today for
' the criminal, the principle of the “ sanctu
ary ” still manages to survive. This privi
lege refers only to civil offenses and not to
crimes as in the olden days, and yet the privi
leges are of considerable value.
No clergyman can be nrrested within the
walls of liis church or while he is going to
or returning from his duty. Bishops and
archbishops are still more protected, for not
one of them can be haled before a magis
trate even though the cause is a crime, uuless
tlie king especially commands it. Xor even
up to tlm present time has any warrant an
effect within the precincts of any of the
king's palaces.
One man in England possesses a house
particularly fortunate in such respects. It
is situated ou parts of two countries. If a
constable from one country comes with a
warrant all the owner needs to do is to move
into the kitchen and he is absolutely safe
there from all nrcest until another constable
comes with a warrant from the other coun
try.
That shall gladden the earth in its time and
place—
We must better the mothers to better the
race!
—Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
v
My mother was a wholesome, serene crei
tion, minted in the golden mood of sovereign
artist.—Tennyson.
* #
•Vhswer me, true hearted mother
(Many such, thank God', there lie),
In your fairest, rosiest girlhood
I'onder lovers did you see?
Gave they deeper admiration.
Choicer, tenderer, or more sweet,
Than you now have from your children,
Than your sons lay at your feet?
—Mrs. S. E. Heusliaw.
v * *
A mother's love
Is an undying feeling. Earth may chill
And sever other sympathies, and prove
How weak all human bonds are; it may kill
Friendship and crush hearts with them—
Jmt the thrill
Of the maternal breast must ever move
In blest communion with her child and fill
Even heaven itself with prayers and hymns
of love.
—S. D. Patterson.
* *
One tear of a mother can blot out a thou
sand complaints against her.—Alexander.
* *
Mother tongue, mother song!
How dear, how full of charm thou art.
—Schenkendorf.
a ffl
To our mothers we go through life sur
rounded by the light that illumined oiw
childish faces. They always see us through
this early enchantment. If they could they
would keep us eternally young.—Charles
Wagner.
* *
The child taketh most of his nature from
the mother, besides speech, manners, and
inclinations which are agreeable to the con
ditions of the mother.—Edmund Spencer.
* #
The mother through her virtuous way
Implants the seed of honor true
Within her child, if she but live
As she would have her children do.
Her life within must holy be,
Unsullied by an evil thought;
Her household knows such harmony
As her own industry has wrought.
* *
O mother, laugh your merry note,
Be gay and glad, but don't forget
From baby's eyes looks out a soul
That claims a home in Eden yet.
# *
God thought to give the sweetest thing
In hfs almighty power
To earth; and deeply pondering
What it should be, one hour
Iii fondest love and joy of heart
Outweighing every other,
He moved the gates of heaven apart
And gave to earth—a mother!
—G. Newel! Lovejoy.
* *:<
All I am or hope to he I owe to my angel
mother.—Abraham IJiu*olu.
>):
Hundreds of dewdrops l<* greet the dawn;
Hundreds of lambs* in the purple clover;
Hundreds of butterflies out on the lawn.
Hut only one mother the wide world over.
—George Cooper.
❖ $
I have not wept these forty years; but now
My mother comes afresh into my eyes.
—Drydeu.
* ❖
My mother! Manhood’s anxious brow
And sterner cares have long been mine;
Yet turn I to thee fondly now
As when upon thy bosom's shrine
My infant griefs were gently hushed to rest
Ami thy low whispered prayers my slumbers
blessed.
—George \V. Betbune.
* *
The best monument that a child can raise
tn his mother's memory is that of a clean,
upright life such as she would have rejoiced
to see her son live.
* *
There was a place in childhood that I re
member well,
And there a voice of sweetest tone bright
fairy tales did tell.
And gentle words iand fond embrace were
given with joy to me,
When I wag in that happy place upon my
mother's knee.
—Samuel Lover.
* *
The purest thing I know in all earth’s hold
ing
Is mother loTe, her precious child enfolding:
Yet when the ipother’s footstep feeble grow
eth,
Aa sweet the child love then which round her
floweth.
—M. M. Tucker.
* *
Ah, hold her by tlie hand,
As once her hand held mine;
And though she may not understand
Life's winding way, lead her in peace di
vine.
I cannot pay my debt
For all the love that she has given;
But thou. Lord, wilt not forget
Her due reward—bless her in earth and
heaven.
—Henry Van Dyke.
/
A mother's lore—how sweet the name!
What is a mother's love?
A noble, pure, and teuder flame,
Enkindled from above.
To bless a heart of earthly mold:
The warmest love that ran grow old
This is a mother's love.
-—,1. Montgomery.
H«
A mother i* a mother still,
The holiest thing alive.
-Coleridge.
❖ >>
The only love which on this teeming earth
Asks no return for passion's wayward birth.
—Mrs. Norton.
Hi Hi
I >o you know that your soul is of my soul
, l
sucli part
That you seem to be fiber and rote of my
hen rt V
None other can pain me ns you, dear, ran do;
None other can please me or praise me is
you.
"ji ”|i
I had not so mill'll of mail in mo
But all my mother camp into mine eyes
And gave me tip to tears.
—Sliakspcare.
# >!'
My little bahy lies along my arm.
And looking at her there, the glad tears
press,
A ml like n tidal ware of tenderness
The years of love since I lay cradled so—
Unfa thinned lore enfolding me from harm -
Return and flood my life. Fof now T know!
— Ann Dcroore.
* *
There is none
In all this cold and hollow world, no fount
Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that
Within a mother’s heart!
—Felicia Hemans.
* *
Mother! Most tender, endearing, and ex
pressive of nil human nppelations! A tit'e
employed/equally by 1 lie royal prince, the
sage phillmopher, and tho untutored peasant
by the savage and the civilized in /ill na
tions and generations. Walter T. tiriftin.
She had listened l" nothing, hut mothers
hear certain things without listening. - Victor
I In go.
* *
My mother! At that holy name
Within ili.v bosom there’s a gus
<>f feeling which no time <an Ian > .
A feeling for which years* of fame
1 would not, could not crush.
»*• <l"
Bonaparte onee asked Mine, de Slack in
"bill ninnucr lip could promote tlip happiness
of France. She answered. “Instruct the
mothers of the French people."
* *
I here is not n grand inspiring thought.
Tiicre is not n truth by wisdom taught
There is not a feeling pure and high,
I lint may not be read in a mother’s eye.
I here are teachings in earth and sky and air.
The heavens the glory of God declare,
But louder than voi‘p, beneath, above.
He is heard to apeak through n mother’* lov*.
— Emily Taylor.
* *
Absent many a year—
Far o’er the sea, his sweetest dreams were
still
Of that dear voice that soothed his infancy.
—Southey.
* sh
The mother in her office holds the key
Of the soul; and she it ig who stamps the coin
Of character.
—Old [day.
It Makes Us Better to Weep;
Tragedy a Cure for Hysteria.
OUR own emotions must have an out
let, says Albert R. Chandler, a stu
dent of psychology. It is really a
question of whether a happy ending
to a play makes 11s ns cheerful as a doleful
one—whether it is really as healthful for us.
For it is nn admitted fact that other peo
ple's sorrows are a relief to our own emo
tions.
Monotonous daily life affords little or no
outlet. In a good tragedy, however, our
spirits rise. We live the life of the emotions
for a few hours and a sense of relief and of
action follows. The impulse of women who
crowd to the theaters when plays of the
highly emotional type are given, plays deal
ing with the problems of life, is a highly
scientific impulse. They live for a time the
life of feeling and at the end they experience
a sensation of rest. The tears shed at
“ Madame X ’’ were an outlet for tired, pent
up nerves. They did not tend to produce
hysteria, hut allayed it.
Nor does tragedy on the singe make people
sad. The most light hearted nations are
most fond of tragedy. The Greeks in the
days of their great dramatists are a good
example; also the English in the days of
Shakspeare. Both nations were peculiarly
gay, optimistic, spirited—and yet their drama
was heavy tragedy.
At the present time we might call atten
tion to conditions in Germany. The greater
freedom of the German stage in reflecting
life as it is explains, perhaps, the cheerful
temper of that nation. France, too, seems
to keep light hearted in spite of the great
abundance of terrible problem plays.
So if you are suffering from hysteria go ro
tragedies; weep and know that you are grow
ing better each minute.