The Fairmont West Virginian. (Fairmont, W. Va.) 1904-1914, 1904-05-19
ELI S ES

Do S CEN rs
the RARNgIs AND 81 Ny sTERIEs3
OF STAG q REAllssa
How Mimic storms, Rain. Lixhtninss.y
T:.untl CT and Snow Are ProdEced.
The Raging sea- and the FlsiaE;
Sprny-I7.c PonpS or War. ss;
# YOU want to realize ho-S5es,sily tie
senses can be deceived by simple ar
tificcs, said u well known actor TO the
writer, you should just take I peep De.
hind the scenes ot.a rEes.tes.. I'm Snot
sure whether it is kind TO :i!iow5you% 60
take the peep. though. for 1t is NOT a.
ways desirable thing to lose one s IL
lusions. but ii you don't mind I'm sure
1 don't. and will guarantee that you
!. will find the little secrets OF ray ilr ii1e
vastly Interesting. - 355.. rs
OF coarse you've often seen the stage
storm, and a most realistic thing II IS.
as YOU know You see tie coy room,
with its glowing fire and its general
atnosphere of cheerineSS and warmth.
made all the more so by the bowling or
the blast outside. Suddenly tie door
is flung open. you catch q glimpse or
the arctic world, and the wind rises to
positive Shrek as the hero or the Vii
lain of the piece PUSHES in. pursued by
q hurricane of snow. ana bangs tue;
door in the face of the baliied storm
fiend whose clutches he has just es-.
capped.
It is ali SO terribly real that you in
sensibly SILVER in your warm seat a;iild
draw YOUR coat closer round You. ana
vet if you only knew how it IS all pro
duced you would well. you would
smile. Where. for instance, docs t9ii1t
wind come from with its Wonderful
cresceudo, from the faint sigh to the
srriehs and bowls of "A lost spirit: Let
me Introduce you to the genius Of the
storm, a gentleman who is busy turn
ing a small wheel with projecting pad
dies, which, as they revolve, scrape
against Il tightly stretched piece OF
strong silk. AS he turns very slowly
the wind Just signs gently. Like Child
in its sleep; faster, and the gale grows,
the wind sobs and means and Whistles,
until it rises, as the wheel goes swi1{ei
and swifter, into q tumult OF snieks
and bowls. as if all the demons of the
air were reused to q frenzy of fury.
The snow? Oh, that's just as simple!
The landscape you catch sh1yerinG
glimpse of is made arctic by plenty OF
cotton wool and a paste brush, ana t1e
fakes which cover The hero from head
to foot and melt and tricE1e under the
genial warmth of the fire are so many
splashes of soapsuds. All, see now
YOU are getting disillusioned! Pity,
isn't it? But still it's always fascinat-
ing to find out how things are done.
AS for the fire which CLOVIS SO warm,
it is merely so many electric lights
shining through 4 medium Of rudy
gelatin paper While the smoke by no
means comes from the fire as it ought
to do, but from a concealed receptacle
containing a little quicl>lime and hot
water There YOU have it all-shrlek-
ing wind, drifting snow and glowing
fire realistically produced in the most
absurdly simply way.
You can make the lightning ZiSZaG
in binding flashes and the thunder roll
and rattle equally easily. You can get
capital thunder by rolling q cannon
ball or two along the floors overhead
or by shaking a piece of sheet iron
pretty much as You would shake
duster. But bark! There's the rain
pattering on the roof knew it would
come, and so did 4 certain man behind
the scenes who has poured q pound or
two Of split peas into barrel inside
the barrel, you must know, are several
crosspieces of wood, against which the
peas rattle in their DESCENDANTS the
rain-and when they get to the bottom
he turns the barrel, and the patter pat
ter continues while wanted
The hero who plunges With reckless
courage into the sea runs little risk
even Of wetting. The waves which
open to receive him are painted india
rubber, which are made to roll and
heave by very human agency below
The foam that he sends flying up in q
cascade as he vanishes into the watery
depths IS q handful of common or table
salt thrown up from beneath. and In
stead of disturbing any mermaids In
their Grottoes he is content to tumble
on to a mattress.
Then could anything be more real
than the scene in which the heroine
looks down from the upper window as
the soldiers-her lover of course, among
them-march off to the war? Tramp,
tramp, tramp-why, there must be
hundreds of them. And just listen to
the cheers Of the crowds lining the
streets and the short. sharp words of
command. How it fires your blood and
makes you long to join them!
Well, come below decks. and Will
show you a handful of men, half q
y;prr on n