Ofttimes we old 'uns pine for the dinkum drama of yesteryear where, within the first five minutes, the old squire was foully shot in the rhododendrons. The villain who did it attempted no deception toward the audience but twisted his satanic moustachios in a manner so incriminating that any judge would simply reach under the rostrum for the black cap without a word of evidence; but nobody on the stage ever suspected him, and he went right ahead with his fiendish courtship of the late squire's lovely daughter (coupled with the squiral acres and herditaments). But it was all honest-to-goodness drama, with out any modern exotic aids such as cocaine, kidnapping, gangsters, illicit love, or murder on the sky-scraper roof. The sin was sincere