who, like the weather, were giving the lie to the prophets,
crowded to see the Prince arrive. He came from _Dragon_ in the Royal
barge in the wake of the _Dauntless'_ launch, which was having a
worried moment in "shooing" off the eager gasolene boats, crowding in,
in defiance of all regulations, to get a good view.

There was no doubt about the warmth of the welcome. It was a
characteristic Newfoundland crowd. Teamsters in working overalls,
fishermen in great sea boots and oilskins, girls garbed in the
smartness of New York, whose comely faces and beautiful complexions
were of Ireland, though there was here and there a flash of French
blood in the grace of their youth, little boys willing to defy the law
and climb railings in order to get a "close up" photograph, youths in
bubble-toed boots--all proved that their dourness was not an emotion
for state occasions, and that they could show themselves as they really
were, as generous and as loyal as any people within the Empire.

The Prince was received on the jetty by the Governor and the members of
the legislature. With them was a guard of honour of seamen, all of
them Newfoundland fishermen who had served in various British warships
throughout the war. There was a contingent from the Newfoundland
Regiment also, stocky men who had fought magnificently through the grim
battles in France, and on the Somme had done so excellently that the
name of their greatest battle, Gueudecourt, has become part of the
Colony's everyday history, and is to be found inscribed on the postage
stamps under the picture of the caribou which is the national emblem.

The Prince's passage through the streets was a stirring one. There
were no soldiers guarding the route through Water Street and up the
high, steep hills to Government House, and the eager crowd pressed
about the carriage in such ardour that its pace had to be slowed to a
walk. At that pace it moved through the streets, a greater portion of
the active population keeping pace with it, turning themselves into a
guard of honour, walking as the horses walked, and, if they did break
into a trot, trotting with them.

The route lay under many really beautiful arches, some castles with
towers and machicolations sheafed in the sweet-smelling spruce; others
constructed entirely from fish boxes and barrels, with men on them,
working and packing the cod; others were hung with the splendid fur,
feathers and antlers of Newfoundland hunting.