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The Prince of Playgrounds

"I have drunk the Sea's good wine,
And to-day
Care has bowed his head and gone away.
I have drunk the Sea's good wine,
Was ever step so light as mine,
Was ever heart so gay?
Old voices intermingle in my brain,
Voices that a little boy might hear,
And dreams like fiery sunsets come again,
Informulate and vain,
But great with glories of the buccaneer."

At the Alaska-Yukon-Pacific Exposition you have had spread before you the natural resources and the wonder-wares of the merchant of the Pacific littoral from Alaskan snow crests to the humid marts of Mexico. And you have been somewhat jostled in the process. From the effete East you reached the Pacific by devious ways, tired and travel-worn. Soaked with information, with your knowledge widened and your sympathies deepened, you now find yourself toward the end of your vacation, the days are ticking themselves off ominously.

The Sea has revived you and set throbbing old life currents that the strenuous years had almost strangled at their source. The unexpressed wish is that some Titan force could lift you up, and drop you down at your desk of endeavor or home hearthstone of quiet without the heat and dust and discomfort of the journey home, depositing you "with tightened sinew and clear blood imbued with Sunlight and with Sea."

Do you know how to do it? "Come home by Canada!" Down at the dock in Seattle there waits for you the fleetest passenger-steamer on the Pacific, the Princess Victoriawith a developed speed of 18 knots. A four hours' run through the most enchanting waterway in the world takes you to that little bit of England on the shores of the Pacific,