. The American Legion Weekly [Volume 1, No. 22 (November 28, 1919)] . in com-parison with his attachment for the manwith the symbol of service in the GreatWar at his button-hole, leaned over thevestibule rail. Only this: I dont want you fellows,in particular, to remember me as aprince, but as a comrade. The wheelsbegan to grind. So long, Canadians,he yelled. Y-e-a, Prince, they bel-lowed back. The tracks unrolled be-tween them, but until that animatedline lost individuality and seemed but abrown canvas blown by the wind, HisRoyal Highness, the Prince of Wales,K. G., M. stood unhatted, wavi
. The American Legion Weekly [Volume 1, No. 22 (November 28, 1919)] . in com-parison with his attachment for the manwith the symbol of service in the GreatWar at his button-hole, leaned over thevestibule rail. Only this: I dont want you fellows,in particular, to remember me as aprince, but as a comrade. The wheelsbegan to grind. So long, Canadians,he yelled. Y-e-a, Prince, they bel-lowed back. The tracks unrolled be-tween them, but until that animatedline lost individuality and seemed but abrown canvas blown by the wind, HisRoyal Highness, the Prince of Wales,K. G., M. stood unhatted, waving hisgood-bye. Why, I considered, as the hour nearedof my presentation to him, had I not givenmore study to courtly custom? I knewSpaldings baseball guide and some nowuseless mathematics about the footage ofa baseball field and the value of a fieldgoal. I had even met the Queensburymanual, and from devious sources I hadlearned what to do with any number offorks up to four. What futile knowledgenow. Mind forayed for precedent. Myroyal intimates, it now seemed, were. Royalty carries with it the picture ofdignity, majesty, pomp and that isnt the picture of the Princeof Wales America has seen. story is a close-up of ayoung man who rolls his own, likesAmerican jazz and American girls,and hates to get up in the is a story of the youth as he is today,which gives an unusual insight intowhat the king of tomorrow will be. restricted to the puppet princes of theplays, Kings Lear and Baggot, the Earlof Pawtucket, the Sultan of Sulu, Yetiveof Graustark, Shine-Ball King Cicotteand Ban Johnson, the celebrated Sultan of Sulu, as a pattern, offeredone terrifying obstacle. As I recalled,after the populace had sung, Hail to theking; this is a joyous day, or some suchlyrical delight, I had a vague remem-brance of villagers breaking into a TexasTommy. Now I would no more think of TexasTommying than I would envisage IrvinCobb as a dancing partner of Pa
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