COLUMBINE IN TIVOLI.

Taranaki Daily News, 2 September 1933, Page 17 (Supplement)

COLUMBINE IN TIVOLI.

(By

Elizabeth Kyle.)

As the soft summer twilight darkens, the coloured lights flash amid the trees of the Tivoli Gardens. The great fountain before the concert hall turns blue, green, and yellow, and every pathway echoes to the tread of passing feet, while Copenhagen takes its pleasure in this famous pleasure-garden. Here outdoor shooting-galleries and dance floors for the young and rowdy—- “ Merry Comer” the Danes call it. Further off, by the lakes, is the concerthall, built like a mosque and outlined in fairy lights, which has been filled with the music of Patti, Joseph Hyslop all the great musicians of the past and present. From the balustraded terrace of a fashionable restaurant the smart set watch the scene below, the drifting crowds, the winding river, once part of the moat surrounding the old ramparts, now churned up at intervals by artificial coloured cascades. Columbine, dancing on the outdoor stage just beside the turn-stile, can see it all through her black velvet mask. She is part of what is perhaps the last real pantomime in Europe—a fragment of the’ old stage tradition on mime and dance, with pantomime supplying the farce. For ninety years this silent pantomime has been produced, each summer, under- the stars. For almost a century a Columbine has danced on the stage, but is now glorified into the likeness which was rough enough to begin with, of an eastern pagoda, with a peacock’s gigantic spreading tail to act as curtain. And the orchestra has substituted Schubert’s ballet music for the old music-hall ditties which once sufficed. She is a dainty creature this, Columbine, and highly paid, for Danes are critical of dancing. Stolid they may be and look, but is their opera ballet not world-famous, and was not Adeline Genee a Dane by birth, hailing from Copenhagen ? The lights about the stage glitter and wink, putting the stars above to shame. A flock of wild duck pass overhead, their harsh cries punctuating the notes ,of the orchestra. Columbine does not notice, for she is busy with a pas seul above the trap-door through which she has pushed poor Pantaloon. That is the part the children most enjoy. And old folk smile reminiscently, remembering the time they saw it done. She might be the same Columbine, too, for so long as she wears the time-honoured strip of black velvet she typifies to them merely the spirit of the Danish dance;. the spirit of youth; the spirit of the Tivoli Gardens. Woman’s Desert Trip.

Accompanied only by her maid,. a guide, and two chauffeurs, a frail-looking white-haired woman recently completed an adventurous trip of more than 10,000 miles across the Sahara Desert. Sue is Mrs. W. Brodie, of Truddoxhill, Frome (states a correspondent). In the course of her trip Mrs. Brodie traversed hundreds of miles of country where no white woman had ever been seen before. Armed guards had to be placed round the camp at nights to watch for attacking tribesmen. An offer was made by a negro chief to buy Mrs. Brodie’s maid, Miss Edna Vince. The expedition, made in two- motorcars, started from Biskra last November. “For hundreds of miles we were alone in the Sahara,” says Mrs. Brodie. “At one place in the south we had the greatest 'difficulty in persuading the commander of the district to allow us to go on.

“We were told that there was considerable danger because of a fierce native tribe. We went on, however, and for four nights our men kept guard while we slept. They all carried revolvers, but, fortunately, were not called upon to use them.” Mrs. Brodie is already planning her next trip. “I know I shall not be able to stay at home,” she said. USE THE REFRIGATOR. My dressing-table stands in a window recess that is bathed in sunlight, so any tubes of face-cream or pots of skinfood left there suffer in consequence. Hav- ! ing been guilty of carelessness of leaving such things lying about, during hot weather, I found the contents reduced to a nasty oiliness not intended by the expert who had prepared them. With a sudden burst of intelligence, I popped tube and pot into the refrigerator, and brought them out half an .hour later to find the contents in perfect condition. Now, on any extreme rise in temperature I repeat the operation, for I have found that heat invariably affects their consistency whether they be exposed or shut up in a drawer. Besides, it is much more pleasant to massage a cool rather than a warm cream into the skin. Ice Massage. With the help of my refrigerator, too I have small blocks of ice for a periodical ice-massage, following, with the little squares the movements that are made in the professional treatment. After the gentle creaming, this ice-massage tones up the tissues wonderfully and defies the onslaught of wrinkles. It is far more effectual than astringents, upon which ! quite a number of specialists are now turning the cold shoulder, on the ground that in course of time they deprive the skin of its natural oils.

Sometimes household preparations find their way for a while into the refrigerator. - A tin of floor-polish, having been left lying in a sunny comer, showed a tendency to liquify and was restored in the cold box. Some furniture cream similarly emerged wonderfully refreshed.

Cool Dishes. We do not use our refrigerators nearly enough for tinned foods. You would be surprised to find how good tinned soup tastes when served thoroughly chilled on a hot day. And tinned sturgeon, similarly treated, makes a delicious salad with the addition of really cold vegetables and dressing. I prefer tinned fruits to be “iced” before they are opened, rather than put to cool minus their cans. In some curious way, the former treatment seems to bring out their original flavour better. Next time you have sardines on the menu, try “refrigerating” them before serving. LIVES GIVEN FOR WOMEN. The dramatic rescue of Mrs. Charles Rennie from a tiny raft on Lake Michigan has revealed the story of three men who gave their lives that she might live (says the “Daily Mail.”) One was her husband, and the others were James Gillette, a seaplane pilot, and his mechanic, Peter Keller, all of Traverse City, Michigan. The four left their home town by seaplane for Milwaukee, 170 miles away, on the other side of Lake Michigan. Fog forced them down on the lake, and in the impact the seaplane was sb

strained that water began to seep in. The three men tore a petrol tank from one of the wings, making a smooth metal raft about four feet square. On this they placed Mrs. Rennie while they themselves slipped into the icy cold water, gripped the slippery edges of the raft, and prepared to await the arrival of a passing vessel. The fog lifted, . but no rescue was affected until late next day, when a ship sighted the raft, took off the woman seated on it, but found no trace of the three men.