every effort of every
Ally that had won the war. Yet, at the same time, practical experience
had taught him to feel that if it had not been for the way the Grand
Fleet had done its duty from the very outset, the result of the war
would have been diametrically opposite. Feelingly, he described his
service with the Grand Fleet. He had placed himself unreservedly under
the command of the British from the moment he had entered European
waters, yet so complete was the co-operation between British and
Americans that he often took command of British units. The splendid
war experience had done much to draw the great Anglo-Saxon nations
together. Their years together had ripened into friendship, then into
comradeship, then into brotherhood. And that brotherhood he wished to
see enduring, so that if ever the occasion should again arise all men
of Anglo-Saxon strain should stand together.

There was real warmth of enthusiasm as the Admiral spoke. Those
present, whose homes are close to those of their American neighbours
living across a frontier without fortifications, in themselves
appreciated the essential sympathy that exists between the two great
nations. When the Admiral conveyed to the Prince a warm invitation to
visit the United States, this enthusiasm reached its highest point. It
was, in its way, an international lunch, and a happy one.

III

After reviewing the Great War Veterans on the quay-side, the Prince
left Vancouver just before lunch time on Tuesday, September 23rd, for
Victoria, the capital of British Columbia, which lies across the water
on Vancouver Island.

It was a short run of five hours in one of the most comfortable boats I
have ever been in--the _Princess Alice_, which is on the regular C.P.R.
service, taking in the fjords and towns of the British Columbian coast.

Leaving Vancouver, where the towering buildings give an authentic air
of modern romance to the skyline, a sense of glamour went with us
across the sea. The air was still tinged with "smoke" and the fabled
blue of the Pacific was not apparent, but we could see curiously close
at hand the white cowl of Mount Baker, which is America, and we passed
on a zig-zag course through the scattered St. Juan Islands, each of
which seemed to be charming and lonely enough to stage a Jack London
story.

On the headlands or beaches of these islands there were always men and
women and children to wave flags and handkerchiefs, and to send a chee