out a word. At the State Capitol an official reception was arranged for them. From the moment when they stept from their train at Springfield until they departed, an hour and a half later, they were met everywhere with cheers and waving tricolors. Soldiers who lined the streets stood at attention. Lines of school children waved flags and cheered

MARSHAL JOFFRE AND M. VIVIANI AT LINCOLN'S TOMB
IN SPRINGFIELD, ILL.

enthusiastically as they passed. As their train in leaving drew out of the station, Marshal Joffre stooped down from the platform and kissed two little girls drest to represent the United States and France. On May 9 in Philadelphia M. Viviani hailed Independence Hall, in which he then stood, as the "Birthplace of the Liberty of the World." He and Marshal Joffre had been escorted from the Broad Street station through flag-draped and closely packed lanes of cheering humanity to the room where the Declaration of Independence was signed. They afterward stood in silence for

a moment before the Liberty Bell, where Marshal Joffre tiptoed forward and kissed the bell and M. Viviani followed him, each doing so without a word or a cheer coming from the crowd that surrounded them. When M. Viviani shook the Mayor's hand he implanted a kiss upon his cheek. Before leaving the building Marshal Joffre was presented with a silver-mounted marshal's baton, made from wood taken out of a rafter in the roof of the hall. He returned thanks in a low, almost inaudible, voice. "I thank you," he said. "In this Hall of Independence where true liberty was first proclaimed, I wish to convey to the people of Philadelphia and of the United States the greetings of the French army and the gratitude of the people of France to America for its fidelity to the Allied cause." Turning to M. Viviani, he jokingly remarked: "See, I have now a piece of real independence.'

After a brief stop at the recruiting station in the Hall, the party was taken in automobiles to other historic places in Philadelphia. At Christ Church, where Washington worshiped, they rose in their places saluting. Before the Betsy Ross House, where the first flag was made, they also stood at salute. On the stone slab above the grave of Benjamin Franklin a memorial wreath was placed. They were then taken through Fairmount Park, where they paused to salute the statue of Joan of Arc. In the house of William Penn, a sword was presented to Marshal Joffre, twenty children from each grammar-school and an equal number from high schools, with deputations from suburban schools, being present. The presentation was made by a young lady who spoke in French.

The Italian Mission, on their return from the West, reached Philadelphia on June 20, and for thirteen hours the city rang with its welcome. Women cried like babies as they shouted "Vivas!" in trembling voices, while men roared until the entire scene became a bedlam. Broad Street was choked by an immense throng that was estimated as high as 100,000. The Italian districts were deserted for the day to make a holiday and pour out lavish greetings. Italians came from store, shop, tenement, and bank, a picturesque multitude. It seemed as if each person had either the flag of

Italy or the Stars and Stripes in his hand. Dozens of societies stood at attention as their countrymen rolled by. The sight of larger standards towering high above the crowd and running in numbers literally into the hundreds, made a veritable forest of waving, dancing colors that was kaleidoscopic. Time and again in response to a demonstration Signor Marconi was compelled to stand in his car and bow to plaudits. The sight of this trim, dapper inventor, in the uniform of a sailor, set thousands into wild outbursts of cheering. Women held up their babies for him to pat, and he did so as he passed along in triumphal progress. Sons of Italy, parading under the names of scores of societies, marched past cheering like mad, and throwing their hats into the air in an exuberance that no Anglo-Saxons could duplicate or even approach. When, later in the day, twenty thousand persons massed about the Columbus and Verdi statues in Fairmount Park wreaths were placed on the statues. In the evening came an official dinner. Fifty thousand persons next morning jammed the sidewalks during a pilgrimage made by the envoys to Independence Hall-a multitude not less exuberant and enthusiastic than the throng which greeted them on their arrival. The guests were afterward entertained at a luncheon at the Manufacturers' Club, where the final stop of the day was made. At their departure from the Reading Terminal, which was decorated lavishly with flags of both nations, the envoys carried with them an urgent plea from the Mayor that, when peace came to bind up a world then torn asunder, the pact might be signed in Independence Hall.

New York, on the afternoon of May 9, welcomed M. Viviani and Marshal Joffre as no other men had ever been greeted by Manhattan Island. Streets running north and south, east and west, were filled with the roar of probably a million voices and the color of thousands of banners. About Pier A, where the visitors landed, a court of honor had been set up, composed of white and gilt posts, roped together with evergreens and bearing medallion heads of Britannia and La France. Within this court waited the automobiles of the reception committee, the chairman of which was Joseph H. Choate. A squadron of mounted police hemmed

them in. Beyond was Squadron A drawn up as a guard of honor. Back of the court, held in check by hundreds of policemen, were twenty thousand persons. When the red cap of the Marshal was first seen at the doorway of the pier, the voice of New York spoke for the first time, not in distinct cheering, but as a solid, mounting roar that swelled and ebbed like surf in a great storm. Automobile horns and the bugles of cavalry only now and then were able to pierce the din. Not until three hours later, when the doors of the Henry C. Frick mansion on Fifth Avenue at Seventieth Street closed upon the visitors for the night, did the cry of greeting die away.

When the long line of automobiles began to move from the Battery to Broadway, they had to make their way between packed and cheering thousands. Before them clattered the hoofs of the horses of mounted police and Squadron A. Never could the police entirely control the crowd. At times it broke through like a river in flood. Men and boys waved small flags, tossed hats in the air, screamed until their voices cracked. Above all on the high walls of buildings flags waved in the breeze-the Stars and Stripes, the Union Jack, the tricolor. From side to side of the canyon-like thoroughfare filaments floated like strands of spider's web and snow seemed to fall from roofs, effects produced by rolls of ticker-tape and showers of confetti. Voices often became shrill from over-exertion. Some of them could still pierce through the deep roar, but they were like the squealings of fifes. In the first automobile were Marshal Joffre, M. Viviani, and Mr. Choate. It was often noted that when the roar of cheers was greatest the imperturbable Marshal was calmly looking up at skyscrapers. He seemed to be counting the stories and once was heard to say, as if talking to himself, "Vingt-et-un."

After word came that M. Viviani and Marshal Joffre had landed at the Battery, cheers were heard rolling up Broadway. As they came nearer, swarms about the park edged in closer only to be pushed back by the police, little knots. in windows leaned out further, men on the street-car roofs risked tumbling as they craned their necks for a first sight of the man who won at the Marne. First to be seen were