f his box, and the laugh changed to something of a cheer
when he caught sight of the chairs of pomp, two of them in frigid
isolation, elbowing out smaller human fry. All knew from his very
attitude what was going to happen to those chairs. And it happened.
The chairs vanished. Small chairs and more of them took their place,
and the Prince sat with genial people about him.

The arena was a field of brightness. It was delightfully decorated
with green upon lattice work. Over the competitors' entrance were
canvas replicas of Tudor houses. In the ring the Prince saw many
beautiful horses, fine hunters, natty little ponies pulling nattier
carriages, trotters of mechanical perfection, and big lithe jumpers.
In the middle of the jumping competition he left his box and went into
the ring, and spent some time there chatting with judges and
competitors, and watching the horses take the hurdles and gates from
close quarters.

Leaving the building there happened one of those vivid little incidents
which speak more eloquently than any effort of oratory could of the
kinship of the two races in their war effort. A group of men in
uniform who had been waiting by the exit sprang to attention as he came
up. They were all Americans. They were all in British uniform--most
of them in British Flying Corps uniform. As the Prince came up, they
clicked round in a smart "Left turn," and marched before him out of the
building.

The Prince from thence on vanished for the day into a round of
semi-social functions, but he did not escape the crowds.

Walking up Fifth Avenue with friends shortly before dinner-time, we
came upon a bunched jumble of people outside the "Waldorf-Astoria." It
was a crowd that a man in a hurry could not argue with. It filled the
broad street, and it did not care if it impeded traffic. We were not
in a hurry, so we stood and looked. I asked my friends what was
happening here, and one of them chuckled and answered:

"They've got him again."

"Him? Who--you can't mean the Prince? He's on _Renown_ now, resting,
or getting ready for a dinner. There's nothing down for him."

My friend simply chuckled again.

"Who else would it be?" he said. "How they do gather round waiting for
that smile of his. Flies round a honey-pot. Ah, I thought so."

The Prince made a dash of an exit from the hotel. He jumped into the
car, and at once there was a forest of hands and handkerchiefs and
flags waving, and his ow