I always thought we were a rather well-behaved lot--there was rather strict discipline maintained at all times. But on this occasion we old troupers were told to “sit pretty,” to be quiet and stay in the dressing-room if there were no scenes being taken in which we were working, and if we were called upon to work, to please just “work” and not be sociable. Our director seemed to be somewhat ashamed of his faithful old crew. So the studio remained hushed and awed--a solemn dignity pervaded it. In the dressing-room, those who didn’t know what was going on said, “Why are you all so quiet?” “Oh, don’t you know?” we sang in unison. “There’s a Broadway actor out there, from the _Henry Miller Company_.” “_Oh, you don’t say so!_” The effect was funniest on Mack Sennett. He wore a satirical smile that spoke volumes. For he had divined that these “up-stage” new actors were to get more than five per day; besides, he was getting few enough parts as things were, now where _would_ he be? “Lord Jim” was certainly treated with great deference. He was shown several scenes “in the taking,” and then escorted upstairs to see some of Mary Pickford’s pictures. The Cook’s tour over, Mr. Kirkwood agreed to appear in the movies. A slow, easy manner had Jim Kirkwood, which with underlying strength made for good screen technique. Early June was the time of his first release, “The Message,” in which picture as _David Williams_ he portrayed the honest, big-hearted farmer. Mr. Kirkwood, the diamond-in-the-rough type, was honest and big-hearted through all his movie career. He was the heroic Indian, as in “Comata, the Sioux”; the brave fisherman as in “Lines of White on a Sullen Sea”--the latter one of Stanner E. V. Taylor’s early classic efforts which was taken in the little fishing village of Galilee in October, 1909. Harriet Quimby, now established as a journalist, came down to visit. Thought it would be good fun to act in a scene, so she played a village fishermaiden and thus qualified as a picture actress for her other more thrilling performance two years later. I was with her that time, on the flying field at Dover, where Bleriot had landed on the very first Channel crossing, and where she was to “take off” for France. Gaumont took a five-hundred-foot picture of the flight, titling it “The English Channel Flown by a LADY AVIATOR for the First Time.” The day Harriet Quimby flew the English Channel brought sad news to the world, for that appalling disaster--the sinking of the _Titanic_--occurred. It also brought a personal sadness to the Biograph, for Mr. Marvin’s youngest son, who was returning from his honeymoon, was lost. Before the happy couple had sailed, a moving picture of the wedding had been taken in the studio.