“JAZZ.”

Waikato Times, Volume 98, Issue 16152, 29 November 1924, Page 13 (Supplement)

“JAZZ.”

(A suburban's impressions of a visit to the Pictures). J. The Insistent call of a summoning horn, a blue evening coat, and tho luxurious comfort of a car. The hush of the curving drive and the closing of a gate. The open road checkered by friendly lights of neighbouring homes and from cloistered gardens, sensuous scents ‘That lent the windward air an exquisite perfume;’ A corner turned, the broad highway, and the rhythmic purr of speeding car. A gig and horse and loud reverberations of the pounding hoofs; then a splash of green and the big bulk of a passing ’bus. A slackening speed; the borough lights, a chain of golden lights repeated in wet streets, thus linking earth and sky. Now the subdued sound of tyre on bridge that spans a flood of racing waters passing on their long journey t,o the sea. A glimpse of Undine, of a pallid arm festooning the dark waters with her strings of priceless gems. From distant fields the low of a maternal cow and from an open window the floating cadence of a song. Houses huddling in their straitened sites, and shop windows blithe with goods of kaleidoscopic hue, j while from a pharmacy a gleaming j glow of amethyst and red. Along the j narrow pavements, a pedestrian pro- | cession all obsessed by pleasure’s hypnotic powers. A reeling drunkard with obscene oath, and the limpid laughter of a child. Dazzling and dimming motor lights mimicking the winking stars. A theatre with flaunting bills, the greeting friends and a! merry glance from brown-flecked eyes. The sheen of a flaming satin and the drab dinginess of dull dark tweeds. The winding stair, the red squat seats and the comments and cnatter of the crowd. A Wagner prelude and a Chaplin film, the tears and smiles of the applauding throng. A parent's intense interest and the bored sophistication of her child. The •hour of ten, once more fthe open road and cold caress of gentle breeze. The shrill shriek of screaming syren zig-

zagging across the pattern of the night and turning it to Jazz. The lights of home, a good night said, and the sharp slam of shutting door. The ending of another day, its thousand inchoate impressions added to the portfolio of the brain, and, lo its repertoire, a thousand fragmentary melodies which the magic night will blend into one perfect and harmonious whole.