a
reception of a hearty and affable kind, as he declared this fine park
the property of the city, and made the citizens free of its historic
acreage for all time.

From the Plains His Royal Highness went by car to the huge new railway
bridge that spans the St. Lawrence a few miles above the town. It was
a long ride through comely lanes, by quiet farmsteads and small
habitant villages. At all places where there was a nucleus of human
life, men and women, but particularly the children, came out to their
fences with flags to shout and wave a greeting.

At the bridge station were two open cars, and on to the raised platform
of one of these the Prince mounted, while "movie" men stormed the other
car, and a number of ordinary human beings joined them. This special
train was then passed slowly under the giant steel girders and over the
central span, which is longer than any span the Forth Bridge can boast.
As the train travelled forward the Prince showed his eagerness for
technical detail, and kept the engineers by his side busy with a stream
of questions.

The bridge is not only a superb example of the art of the engineer,
perhaps the greatest example the twentieth century can yet show, but it
is a monument to the courage and tenacity of man. Twice the great
central span was floated up-stream from the building yards, only to
collapse and sink into the St. Lawrence at the moment it was being
lifted into place. Though these failures caused loss of life, the
designers persisted, and the third attempt brought success.

There was, one supposes, a ceremonial idea connected with this
function. His Royal Highness certainly unveiled two tablets at either
end of the bridge by jerking cords that released the covering Union
Jack. But this ritual was second to the ceremonial of the "movies."

The "movies" went over the top in a grand attack. They put down a box
barrage close up against the Prince's platform, and at a distance of
two feet, not an inflection of his face, nor a movement of his head,
escaped the unwinking and merciless eye of the camera.

The "movie" men declare that the Prince is the best "fil-lm" actor
living, since he is absolutely unstudied in manner; but it would have
taken a Douglas Fairbanks of a super-breed to remain unembarrassed in
the face of that cold line of lenses thrust close up to his medal
ribbons. And in the film he shows his feelings in characteristic
movements of lips and hands.

The men