sponsible, in part at least, for Mark's: "Do They Love a Lord?" He maintained: "They all do," dwelling in particular upon the courtesies shown to Prince Henry in the U. S. After the appearance of his essay in "The North American Review," I told Clemens of the following incident, witnessed in Philadelphia.
I happened to visit the City of Brotherly Love the same day as Henry and was crossing one of the downtown squares, when a considerable commotion arose behind: clatter of horses' hoofs, jingling of metal, tramp of oncoming masses. Somebody shouted: "There he is, going to the Mayor's office," as I was passing by an office building in course of construction.
The masons, hodcarriers and other workmen heard the cry and crowded onto the scaffolding outside the walls. Some of them seemed ready to take up the shouts of welcome emitted here and there by the crowd.
But the enthusiasm for royalty was cut short by a brawny Irishman, planting himself, trowel in hand, on the edge of the main scaffold.
"None of that chin music here," he hollered; "the first wan that hollers hooray for owld Vic's grandson gets a throwl full of cement down his red lane," and he swung the loaded tray defiantly.
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