en" on the Grand River Reserve, in Brant county,
Ontario. In addition to this welcome they had a request to make of
him: would he accept the title of Chief and visit their reserve to
give them the opportunity of conferring?

One of the great secrets of England's success with savage races has
been her consideration, her respect, her almost reverence of native
customs, ceremonies, and potentates. She wishes her own customs
and kings to be honored, so she freely accords like honor to her
subjects, it matters not whether they be white, black, or red.

Young Arthur was delighted--royal lads are pretty much like all
other boys; the unique ceremony would be a break in the endless
round of state receptions, banquets, and addresses. So he accepted
the Red Indians' compliment, knowing well that it was the loftiest
honor these people could confer upon a white man.

It was the morning of October first when the royal train steamed
into the little city of Brantford, where carriages awaited to
take the Prince and his suite to the "Old Mohawk Church," in the
vicinity of which the ceremony was to take place. As the Prince's
especial escort, Onwanonsyshon, head chief of the Mohawks, rode on a
jet-black pony beside the carriage. The chief was garmented in full
native costume--a buckskin suit, beaded moccasins, headband of owl's
and eagle's feathers, and ornaments hammered from coin silver that
literally covered his coat and leggings. About his shoulders was
flung a scarlet blanket, consisting of the identical broadcloth from
which the British army tunics are made; this he "hunched" with his
shoulders from time to time in true Indian fashion. As they drove
along the Prince chatted boyishly with his Mohawk escort, and once
leaned forward to pat the black pony on its shining neck and speak
admiringly of it. It was a warm autumn day: the roads were dry and
dusty, and, after a mile or so, the boy-prince brought from beneath
the carriage seat a basket of grapes. With his handkerchief he
flicked the dust from them, handed a bunch to the chief, and took
one himself. An odd spectacle to be traversing a country road: an
English prince and an Indian chief, riding amicably side by side,
enjoying a banquet of grapes like two school-boys.

On reaching the church, Arthur leapt lightly to the greensward.
For a moment he stood, rigid, gazing before him at his future
brother-chiefs. His escort had given him a faint idea of what
he was to se