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SEEIN' THINGS IN AMERICA

snows, a running nose for four months and chilblains, and irritating underwear as thick as Turkish rugs, and all the rest of those dreadful things that go with a Northern winter.

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So I boarded chants and Miners' steamer bound for Jacksonville, Florida, with a farewell "Thank God," as a raging blizzard made a frantic attempt to blow me overboard. The voyage was quite uneventful, though pleasant and calm the second day out. The passengers consisted of a number of invalid mothers with athletic daughters in sportcoats, and also a large cargo of youthful chamber maids, house maids, ladies' maids and various other types of hotel "inducements" found so abundantly at the Florida resorts.

One in particular, an attractive blonde who chewed gum and persistently manicured her nails, was quite interesting. She and I were among the very few that survived mal-de-mer, and we sat next to each other at table. In spite of her rather gauche idiosyncracies, she displayed considerable education, and was quite an intellectual conversationalist. I could

imagine her secretly tutoring some of the society matrons upon whom she waited during the winter, or teaching some Newport Apollo the English language.

The steamer stopped at Savannah for a few hours, and my heroine and I went ashore. How picturesque and quaint was Savannah! To me it was so typically Southern, with its sunshine, and laziness and its niggers. Niggers! Oh, those niggers. I can still see them lying around in groups

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as it was odd, suggesting for the moment that the city might be in pawn. However, I suppose, after all it was merely the Hebrew district.

Wandering on through the city, we found innumerable little squares with pretty flower beds and fine old trees draped with Spanish moss. Every square had one or several monuments; in fact, half the population of the city seemed to be monuments, and their venerable presence created a strange, reminiscent spell aquiver with the history and romance of the good old Southern days.

It was probably due to this romantic influence that I nearly missed my boat, for I had been sitting in one of the

squares and had almost fallen asleep, dreaming of Lafayette or Lee, or somebody historical; and then Savannah is such an ideal spot to dream in.

We landed at Jacksonville the next morning. After I had said farewell to my blonde steamer-companion who was going on to Daytona, I sought temporary headquarters. Owing to restrained circumstances, I was forced to select a rather mediocre hotel, one of those tourist places with a solitary male attendant who is bell boy, elevator man, porter, chambermaid, clerk, etc., all in one, simultaneously, and with an extraordinary ability for making excuses.

(To be continued next month.)

MY WILD FLOWER OF THE WEST

Her heart yearned for the sagebrush and the hills,
She hungered for the West of old-time thrills;
The East had wearied her, her heart was sad
One look at those old hills would make her glad.

We bade the yawning city a farewell,
The beckoning hills with their alluring spell
Were calling, calling her in sweet refrain,
Resistless were the charms of hill and plain.

Out through the bad lands, Oh the thrilling view!
The breath of sagebrush mingled with the dew!
On through the canyons, o'er the roaring streams,
Her bosom heaved with joy! Her land of dreams!

The tears of gladness glistened in her eyes.
Her mountains! Ah, her prairies and her skies!
The land that gave her birth, the land that blest
Her as its own, My Wild Flower of the West!

LOUIS ROLLER.

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I'

IN the famous Forest

Theatre at was recently given the seventh annual play of

Carmel-by-the-Sea

the Forest Theatre Society. Out of two hundred manuscripts submitted in the contest, the committee chose "Yolanda of Cyprus," by Cale Young Rice. He is the husband of Alice Hegan Rice, author of "Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch." The children's play, "The Piper," by Josephine Preston Peabody, followed in production.

When, in 1910, the Forest Theatre staged its first annual drama, it was almost the only natural, open-air thea

tre in America. Here, in this "Florence of America," is a theatre on the hillside at the edge of town, its wooden benches ranged along the hill's own curving slope, its back curtain, wings and walls formed by pines, cypresses and eucalypti that have been many decades attaining their lofty stature. It it such a theatre as housed the tragedies and comedies of the golden age of Athenian drama. Since then, there have sprung up many other similar theatres, but this retains its unique character and importance.

The Forest Theatre was fitted up for

the express purpose of giving the people of Carmel an opportunity to "try out" their histrionic and dramatic abilities. In order that it might never fall into the control of a clique or special group, the control of the Forest Theatre was vested in a Board of Trustees.

The question then arose as to when, how and what should be staged. Any of Carmel's people may put on a play, whether of those who live there all the year, or of those who come only when the rush of business makes it possible. This, however, made no provision for the financial support of the adequate presentation of any play. Accordingly, arrangements were made with the Carmel Development Company for the financing of one play a year.

It was decided to give this annual play somewhere near the fourth of July, a time when the many who loved. Carmel, but during a greater part of the year, were kept away by business, might be there to enjoy it.

Knowing that the children of to-day are the playwrights and actors of tomorrow, they determined to stage at the same time a children's play which would give the little folks an opportunity of seeing and showing what histrionic ability they possessed. In staging these children's plays, the Arts and Crafts Club has assisted.

A committee was appointed to pass on the plays for the annual production. Many manuscripts are submitted each year, candidates for the honor having found favor in the eyes of this American art center.

"David," a Biblical play by Constance Skinner, was the first production.

Twice during the six year since then an annual play has been taken away and produced elsewhere. In 1912 "The Toad," by Bertha Newberry, was given in the Greek Theatre at Berkeley. The crowded amphitheatre was sufficient proof of the importance which had already attached to this new institution, the Forest Theatre Annual Play.

In 1915, "Junipero Serra," a pageant of the life of that great pioneer founder of the California Missions, by Perry Newberry, was given at the Panama-Pacific International Exposition at San Francisco. The performance attracted world wide notice, and was made the subject of favorable comment by dramatic critics from all over the country.

Of the seven annual plays produced by the Forest Theatre Society, only one had ever been previously produced elsewhere. Their second play was "Twelfth Night." Since then they have stuck strictly to their purpose of putting on only new plays, dramas by amateur authors. Thus Carmel has the distinction of being the only place in the world to-day where there is a real, organized society having a theatre and financial backing to make it possible for young playwrights to "try out" the children of their pens.

Unlike their former productions, "Yolanda of Cyprus" was not written especially for the Forest Theatre, but for an indoor theatre. Several years ago it was submitted by Mr. Rice to Julia Marlowe. Just as she was completing plans for starring in it, Mr. Frohman finished arrangements for her tour with E. K. Sothern in a Shakespearean repertoire, and "Yoland of Cyprus" was laid aside.

"Thus," said the author in his curtain speech on the opening night, "I found myself in the position of a man who, having long been accustomed to look for the sun to rise in the east, suddenly finds it rising in the west."

"Yolanda of Cyprus" is a dramatization of Robert Browning's poem of the same name. Its plot closely follows that of the poem. The lesson brought out in the whole play is put into the mouth of Yolanda in Act 3: "Pity we owe to sin, not blame."

We have long been accustomed to speak of Browning as a dramatic poet, but the deep philosophical tendency of many of his poems repels the average reader. To such, the intense humanness of the appeal of both "Yolanda of Cyprus" and "The Piper" was a

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"The Piper," produced at the annual children's play at Carmel. Left to right-Veronika, Alice MacDougal; The Piper, Ludovic Bremner; Jan, Phyllis Overstreet.

real revelation. With all the thrill and vividness of a present day "problem play," "Yolanda of Cyprus" combines the mystery and glamour of sixteenth century Italy, the land of sunshine and

romance.

It is the story of Yolanda, an orphan, who, to save her foster mother, Berengere Lusignon, from the shame of her guilty love for Camarin, Baron of Papos, takes the blame upon herself. She is betrothed to Berengere's only son, Amaury, and is actuated in her sacrifice by love of him as well as of his mother. Driven by the scheming of Vittia Pisani, a Lady of Venice, who wishes to win Amaury, Yolanda finally consents to marry Camarin. As the last words of the marriage ceremony are pronounced, a scream makes them ali pause. From a gateway, Alessa, Yolanda's lady in waiting, tells them: "Lady Berengere is dead."

Thus seems to have vanished Yolanda's last hope of establishing her innocence. In the last act, Berengere's

own words: "Though I were dead, this sinning would awake me," are fulfilled. The dead lips open and proclaim to a startled household her own guilt and Yolanda's innocence. To complete the poetic justice, Camarin is killed by Amaury. The lovers are at last united, but even their bliss is clouded by the shadow of Berengere's sinning.

Some idea of the importance which. attaches to these plays may be gathered from the fact that all the San Francisco dailies sent their dramatic critics to view them, and thither came many professional actors of repute, such as Mr. J. Gribner, who recently played the lead in "Omar the Tentmaker."

Up to now, the dream of the Forest Theatre Society to develop a truly great dramatist who would produce a California drama which might justly take its place among the great dramas of the world, has not been realized. This year's play, written as it was by an author who had never before been

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