stood by, expecting to be called into service as an interpreter, but practically every officer present could converse with Marshal Joffre in his native tongue. The meal was served on a single long table that reached almost the full length of the room.

It was 2.49 when the shrill tones of bugles announced that Marshal Joffre and his escort were about to leave the messhall and review the corps. As he was escorted to the reviewing field, the cheers that greeted him were such as West Point hears only on big athletic occasions when West Point has won a game. Across the great parade green passed company after company of cadets, each marching in perfect alinement and every man as erect and as soldierly as Koehler, the "king of physical trainers," could make them. From somewhere a company would suddenly appear and march across the field. A moment later another would come from the opposite direction, and then another would come, until eight were on the plain at the same time, some going this way, others going that, each unconsciously, it seemed, performing all sorts of military evolutions. Time and again Marshal Joffre uttered an enthusiastic word of praise. All this time a band was playing, sometimes an American, sometimes a French air.

For fifteen minutes the maneuvers lasted, and then the corps formed in regimental front for review. Marshal Joffre stept forward until he stood alone three paces in front of Colonel Biddle and others of the reviewing escort. From end to end along the whole line Marshal Joffre slowly walked, and looked into the eyes of every cadet. The look was serious, but at the same time sympathetic. As he returned to his post, the crowd gave him a great ovation, and then the eight companies went stepping briskly by in company front, their alinement perfect. The Marshal's face was a study as they passed by. There was real expression, something like eloquence, or high command, in the salute he gave to every company commander as he passed at the head of his unit. In less than half an hour it was all over.

At 3.30 he left the enclosure to return to New York, the entire corps parading once more as a farewell tribute. Again and again he bowed in acknowledgment of the honor.

The

Black Horsemen cantered ahead of his automobile on the way down to the station, the Superintendent and other officers following. Until the train disappeared around the curve that leads to Highland Falls all West Point stood at attention.

When the Italian Mission came to New York, on June 11, it found itself in a city which had a great Italian population than Genoa, Florence, Venice or Messina. The largest of these cities, Genoa, had a population in 1911 of 272,000, but there were now in New York 341,000 Italian-born people, or the same number as Palermo had in 1911. Naples had 723,000, Milan 599,000, Rome 543,000, Turin 427,000, but no other Italian city outranked New York. American eyes had followed with wonder, almost with incredulity, the deeds of the Italian army in this war. It had had to fight against three allies, Austria, Germany and nature. These Romans of our day had performed feats in war which the ancient Romans had never surpassed. It was with Italy as with France. The world, which had visualized France as a volatile nation, had been dumbfounded to see in her all the virtues which had been supposed to be specifically characteristic of more sober nations-gravity, silence, determination, method-and the same virtues had been displayed in equal measure by Italy, which also had been visualized as a pleasure-loving nation.

The Italian Commissioners reached New York in the afternoon, landing at the Battery, where the crowd was almost as numerous and no less enthusiastic than those which had welcomed the French and British Commissions at the same place. The party crossed Battery Place and turned up Broadway through a tumult of cheering from crowds grouped in masses on the curb, blocking the doorways of great office buildings, jammed on the steps of the Custom House and leaning from every window of tall buildings. As the procession passed the Equitable Building, some one sent down a shower of paper that looked like confetti. Streamers of ticker-tape were flung down all the way to the City Hall. The preparations made in and around the City Hall in many details were similar to those made for the French and British guests. The Italian flag flew from the City Hall

with the Stars and Stripes and Italian colors prominent in a Court of Honor, which had been built opposite the front of the building. In this court 5,000 school-children, most of them of Italian parentage, were drawn up. Around the square on all sides were crowds, blocking traffic in Broadway, Park Row, and Chambers Street-men also in skyscraper windows on Broadway and Nassau Streets, on the cornices and ledges of the Post Office, in the windows far up on the sides of the Woolworth Building.

It was just 4 o'clock when the head of the procession turned into City Hall Park and filed upstairs to the reception-room, decorated in evergreens, with the Italian and American flags draped at either side of the dais at the eastern end. Here they were greeted by the Mayor, whose speech brought frequent applause, and particularly his reference to the recent Italian victories, which stirred vigorous cheering from his hearers, who included many of the leading Italian citizens of New York. The Prince was cheered vigorously when Mayor Mitchel introduced him. Responding with a bow and smile, he drew from a pocket a manuscript and read his speech in excellent English. The line of march northward skirted the two principal Italian colonies of the city, where every one came out to see the Prince and his associates. From almost every window floated the tricolor of Italy and the American flag. The procession passed up Centre Street to Lafayette and thence to Fourth Street. All along the line were the same scenes, the same cheers, the same colors, the difference only one of degree and not much of that. At Fourth Street the party turned west and drove to Washington Square. Here the Italian settlements south of Washington Square had literally poured out thousands. The masses along the southern side of the square and on either side of the driveway through Fourth Street to the arch were, if possible, more thickly packed than they were downtown.

Here had been set another Court of Honor, with the Garibaldi statue as its center. Long blue banners with the shields of the two nations hung from poles with pillars surrounded by clusters of palms and evergreens. A semi-circle, of which the chief color was red, rose behind the statue of

the Liberator, who was shown in the act of drawing his sword. Crowds of school-children, and school-bands, appeared in gorgeous uniforms. When the procession halted, the Prince and his aide stept out of the first car, Mayor Mitchel and the officer with him standing by the curb, while the Prince laid a wreath of evergreens on the pedestal, saluted, stood a moment in silence contemplating the figure of the man who had played the most spectacular part in the unification of modern Italy, and then turned back to his car. Mayor Mitchel gave a dinner in the evening at the Plaza to eighty-five local guests, with Governor Whitman as the chief speaker. Streets about the Plaza and in the square around the fountain were packed with a crowd as thick as any that had been seen in lower Manhattan. The decorations made a brilliant scene.

That afternoon the Prince went to Staten Island to pay tribute to the memory of General Garibaldi, who in the early fifties found a haven in the United States, making his home in a little frame-house that stands on the crest of a hill at Rosebank. Besides making candles, Garibaldi engaged in a shipping enterprise from which he made a little money with which to build the house on the island of Caprera, that remained his home long afterward. The Prince received a welcome such as he said he had never before witnessed. The police estimated that 50,000 and perhaps 100,000 Italians took part in the demonstration, one of the most picturesque ever presented in New York. Along the State road over which the Prince passed on the way to the Garibaldi memorial Italians-men, women, and children -were massed on each side for a mile and a half, and at every fifty yards there was a brass band. Each band played either the National Anthem of America or of Italy, and everybody waved a flag, and some two. The result was a moving picture dominated by the red, white, and blue of America and the green, white, and red of Italy.

In that great throng at least half the men were in uniform. A thousand silken banners told whence they came. Some were from Philadelphia and others from Poughkeepsie. One delegation was from Bound Brook, another from Trenton, and others from Mount Vernon, Yonkers and

Bridgeport. It seemed that hardly a city or village within 100 miles of New York had failed to send the bulk of its Italian population. New York, the Bronx, Brooklyn and Queens were represented by scores of delegations. The little house in which Garibaldi lived is now an Italian shrine, enclosed in another and more pretentious building. In the rooms are still preserved some of the humble furniture which the Italian patriot used. To accommodate the thou

GARIBALDI'S HOUSE ON STATEN ISLAND

In this frame house, seen behind the columns of a more permanent brick and stone edifice in process of construction, Garibaldi lived for a few years in an interval between two of Italy's wars for urification

sands who were expected to journey to Staten Island every available municipal ferry-boat had been put into service. Even a schedule that called for every trip possible to the number of boats in service failed to get all the Italians to Rosebank in time. They were still coming in by fifties and hundreds when the Prince and his party arrived at 4 o'clock, and they were going home for some hours after the Prince had waved his farewells.