And how is this for a motion-picture “fade out”?
“As we knelt the whole summit of the hill seemed to become transparent—we saw right through it and a part of the regions below was brought out with distinctness. The scene we saw was a dry and barren plain in semi-darkness and standing, leaning against a rock, was a man of large stature.”
I strongly suspect that the Reverend Mr. Vale Owen is, like myself (to my shame confess it), a motion-picture fan!
ANOTHER LOST ART
These are mournful days for the Polite Arts. One by one they are passing away—the Art of Conversation, the Art of Paying Calls, the Art of Letter Writing.
The Art of Conversation is no longer even a subject for conversation. No one so much as remembers of what it died. Did it languish and fade away into an Eternal Pause as such a dignified gentleman of the old school as the Art of Conversation would be expected to do—or was it murdered?
The mystery surrounding the death of the Art of Conversation has never been properly cleared up. Some think it died of heart failure induced by the killing modern pace. Others say it starved to death. Others again, that it was done to death by the chewing-gum trust. For my part, I believe the Art of Conversation talked itself to death. It died of obesity—it grew and grew and grew until, when all the world talked there was nobody left to listen. Then it burst.