t a mighty shout to him. The
National Anthems of England and America were obliterated in the gust of
affectionate noise. Minutes elapsed before that great audience
remembered that it was at the play, and that the Prince had come to see
the play. It sat down reluctantly, saving itself for his departure,
watching him as he entered into enjoyment of the brave and grandiose
spectacular show on the stage.

And when he rose to go the audience loosed itself again. It held him
there with the power of its cheering. It would not let him stir from
the building until it had had a word from him. It was dominant, it had
its way. In answer to the splendid outburst the Prince could do
nothing but come to the edge of his box and speak.

In a clear voice that was heard all over the building he thanked them
for the wonderful reception he had received that night, and in New York
during the week. "I thank you," he said, "and I bid you all good
night."

Then he went out into the cheering streets.

It was an astonishing display in the street. The throng was so dense,
the shouting so great that the sound of it drove into the silent houses
of other theatres. And the audiences in those other theatres caught
the thrill of it. They "cut" their plays, came pouring out into the
street to join the throng and the cheering; it was through this
carnival of affection that the Prince drove along the streets to a
reception, and a brilliant one, given by Mr. Wanamaker, whose ability
as Chairman of the Reception Committee had largely helped to make the
Prince's visit to New York so startling a success.

VIII

On that note of splendid friendliness the Prince's too short stay in
America ended. On Saturday, November 22nd, he held a reception on
_Renown_, saying good-bye to endless lines of friendly people of all
classes and races who thronged the great war vessel.

All these people crowded about the Prince and seemed loth to part with
him, and he seemed just as unwilling to break off an intimacy only just
begun. Only inexorable time and the Admiralty ended the scene, and the
great ship with its escort of small, lean war-craft moved seaward along
the cheering shore.

Crowds massed on the grass slope under Riverside Drive, and on the
esplanade itself. The skyscrapers were cheering grandstands, as the
ships steamed along the impressive length of Manhattan. They passed
the Battery, where he had landed, and the Narrows, where the escorting