D RESS designing is to me not a profession but an art a most difficult and unsatisfying art. As soon as a dress is born it has already become a thing of the past. As often as not too many elements are required to allow one to realize the actual vision one had in mind.By ELSA SCHIAPARELLI
LAST AUGUST 15 a vicious, senseless, unexpected and unplanned riot exploded in the yard of Kingston Penitentiary. About sixty or seventy of the nine hundred and thirty inmates set fire to three of the pen buildings and smashed what would not burn.By FRANK CROFT
THE EMERGENCY department at St. Michael’s Hospital in downtown Toronto is across the hall from the ambulance entrance. It is possibly the busiest emergency department in Canada. To that entrance come ambulances bearing seared victims of fires, bodies broken and torn in car accidents, aged people whose hearts have faltered.By JUNE CALLWOOD
ANYONE who attended the Oshawa town fair in the year 1907 might possibly have caught a glimpse of three dignified men in a carriage driving from the railway station toward the McLaughlin Carriage Company’s office and looking a little bewildered at the large crowds abroad so early in the streets of the little city.
THE MAMBO was down from the Haitian hills, and Sophie Caseus, her daughter, who had sworn to her husband never to let her in the house again, felt, as she always did, powerless before her. Watching her now as she rocked back and forth in Caseus’ chair, where she knew no one but him was allowed to sit, Sophie was both furious and frightened.By VICTOR CHAPIN
TWENTY-FIVE years ago this month—to be precise, on Oct. 30, 1929—Variety, New York’s exuberant newspaper that caters to the world of show business, moved slightly off its regular circuit and summed up the events of the preceding day in one of its most famous headlines: WALL STREET LAYS AN EGG.By John Gray
JOHN CONTAT, the ebullient general manager of the Ritz-Carlton in Montreal, sits in the lounge of his hotel with Caryl Hardinge, the fourth Viscount Hardinge. Hardinge, a pukka Englishman, bluff and mustached, is also a Montreal broker.By BARBARA MOON
NINE MILES above Montreal, on the south bank of the St. Lawrence River just before it plunges into the swirl and roar of Lachine Rapids, lies the home of Canada’s most remarkable redskins, the proud and defiant Mohawks of Caughnawaga. The highway from Montreal slices in an arc through the village, and its sides are lined with booths offering the wayfarer genuine factory-made Indian handicrafts—pottery from Toronto, birchbark canoes from Chicago, feather headdresses from Kansas, wampum belts from Detroit, bows and arrows from New York, pennants from Montreal, and a smattering of beadwork and wicker basketware actually fashioned by the Caughnawaga wives and daughters.By KEN JOHNSTONE
THE ENIGMATIC moose, shaggy king of Canada’s big-game animals, at most times is a gentle creature fond of wading in glassy lakes and munching tender lily pads. Yet, smitten by romance, it sheds all resemblance to the famous flower-sniffing Ferdinand of the familiar song.By DON DELAPLANTE
THE TITANS of New France, the men who made the history of the colony in the century between the coming of Champlain and the passing of Frontenac, were for the most part men born in France. The most notable exceptions were the ten great Le Moyne brothers.
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