CHARLOTTETOWN 83 the water race two young cyclists. It is hair-raising to watch their sudden ascent and quick descent. Over yonder the tennis courts are busy. I turn away and walk farther along the bank. A trim roadster pops into view. In it, looking supremely contented, sit my two acquaintances of the Confederation Room. They are certainly "doing up" Charlotte town as they mentioned. They hail me as a long-lost friend. "We've seen everything," they announce, "and we're going to Belfast to-morrow." "Have you been to the gallery?" "What gallery?" "The Robert Harris Memorial Gallery. It's worth seeing if only to see the original sketch of the Con¬ federation picture, and some of Harris' pictures." "Guess we missed that," admitted the Yankees ruefully, "and it's too late now." "Been to the College?" "Oh, yes!" "What did you think of it?" " Nice building . . . but like a prison, don'tcha think?" "I don't . . . why?" "Those corridors . . ." answered the Yankees vaguely. "Well, anyway, did you notice the motto?" "What motto?" " Ich Dien. It is above the door of the College and above the windows of the Assembly Hall. The motto itself has a very interesting history. It's the Prince of Wales ' own motto. It all began this way— "At the battle of Crecy, in 1346, Edward the Black Prince greatly distinguished himself. He captured the blind King of Bohemia and took from him his o. I.—7