nently satisfactory. The next day in an English daily was published my supposed reply, to wit:
“Wal, I sure am glad to be here, and gosh, I sure do hope I’ll meet the Prince of Wales.” I preserve this clipping among my most precious souvenirs.
Perhaps the implied nasal twang of the alleged quotation explains why I never did meet the Prince.
After a fortnight of seeing London and being seen, we headed home again on the steamship Roosevelt. How thoroughly we enjoyed the restfulness of this voyage which afforded really the first relaxation since our departure from Boston! We were allowed by Captain Harry Manning to loll at will on the bridge.
“Can’t you take us to South America instead of New York?” was an almost daily question from us to him. We tried in vain to have him alter the course of the Roosevelt and land in some pleasant country where no one knew us. For all three of us dreaded the inevitable receptions and longed for the ocean to stretch itself indefinitely.
In spite of our dread, homecoming was really an event. The reception at City Hall in New York and the presentation of medals there and in Boston and Chicago followed closely upon our landing. Riding up Main Street while people throw telephone books at you is an amusing modern version of a triumphal march.
Three years ago the returned aviator still rated
