The Prince

Poor men, living by rote, and coddled in all the conveniences which civilization has perfected to make country life tolerable and city life pleasant, are unfamiliar with the forces of Nature, and abashed by any display of the power that throws down telephone poles like jackstraws, cracks huge sewer pipes, and keeps the electric light from turning on.

A Prince, on the other, is schooled in rigor. Forced to travel about the world, enduring all sorts of discomforts in the interests of Empire, David Windsor, Prince of Wales, was not overcome by the fact that the train which was to have taken him last week from Chile to Buenos Aires stuck in a snowdrift on the Andes Mountains and had to turn back to Los Andes. Nor was he more than slightly startled when, as he strolled the streets of that town, bored by the oppressive company of his persona] detective, he saw a rumdum reel out of a saloon, strike a companion with a stone, receive, in return, a knife-thrust in the stomach. He caught the sagging body in his arms, directed, after a solicitous inquiry, that it be removed to a hospital.

In London his worthy parents made plans for meeting him at the Victoria Station. In Buenos Aires his ship, the Repulse, rose and fell at her pier, waiting. Snow fell softly on the Andes. Then skies cleared; much of the snow melted. The Prince's train chugged up the Andes again, with every prospect of coasting down into Argentina on schedule.