I went ashore in Vancouver this morning and wandered around the waterfront and downtown section for awhile. A policeman directed me to Stanley Park. It was only a short street car ride from Granville Street. Two monuments in this park particularly impressed me. One was a memorial to Warren Harding, inscribed with words spoken by him concerning the close friendship of Canadians and Americans. It referred to the several thousands of miles of our international boundary unguarded by military posts or fortifications of any kind. It would thrill any American to stand on foreign soil, before a monument to a president who had died in office, and read a sincere testimony to the bond of good feeling between the two countries. It made me feel good. There was another monument, a tall column, dedicated to the memory of the Japanese who had died in the World War. Another evidence of the possibility of different nationalities working for a common cause.

Stanley Park is a very natural spot. There is a small collection of animals there and a few buildings, but most of the park is in its natural state. I lay on the grass and watched the ships sailing in and out of the harbor. The street car returned me to the Canadian Pacific dock and I had lunch on the boat.

After a short rest I started uptown again. While wandering around in the morning looking for the government liquor store I noticed a sight-seeing street car. They advertised a two hour, twenty mile trip through the city for fifty cents. It is claimed that there are two such cars in existence, both of them in Canada, operated by the British Columbia Electric Railway. It is constructed like an ordinary sight-seeing bus, only much larger and on an old street car chassis.

The first stop is at a corner where we were requested to look up at a second story window. An ambushed photographer took our picture and it was delivered before the end of the trip. They sold for thirty-five cents apiece - a good stunt.

The announcer was most unusual. In addition to pointing out the points of interest he put on a solo vaudeville act. He knew all five of them altogether. They were apparently very fond of the announcer. As the car passed their homes the children ran out to bring him flowers or candy and the little girls kissed him.

As the car rolled along Teddy Lyons, the announcer, would ask riddles, crack jokes and then tell us to watch a certain house or street corner. As we passed the designated points a little girl would dance, a fat boy did somersaults, a sick girl waved from the window, or some other action of the children would testify to the influence of Teddy, a true exponent of "It." Not the Clara Bow type, but real personality. He will go to Heaven, sure, if the children's devotion carries any weight with Saint Peter.

On returning to Granville Street I visited the roof of the magnificent Vancouver Hotel. It is the best place in town from which to get a good view of the harbor, as well as the city. A fine place to take pictures.

I drifted back to the ship to clean up and to enjoy one of the wonderful Canadian Pacific dinners. After dinner I got down to business--imagine visiting two Canadian cities and not getting a taste of their famous beer. Everyone talks about the beer gardens but where are they? I had given up the search and decided to buy a San Francisco newspaper and go back to the ship and read. The newsboy was sociable and we talked for awhile. More information. The taxi drivers are all boot-leggers and boot-legging seems to be a major Canadian industry. The so-called beer gardens are only beer rooms in the cheaper hotels. The beer doesn't seem to be any different from our own near beer. The newsboy, Harry Frazer, offered to show me the town when I returned from Skagway. He knew lots of girls and would show me a good time. I promised to look him up but although he was a decent chap, and a war veteran, I knew that I would wash out on him.

Only once during the day did I see anyone under the influence of liquor, an old soak on Granville Street, and he seemed quite alone. Canada is a sober country. Another thing is noticeable, though. There are a great many cripples in evidence, all war veterans, but not begging. In spite of our assumed feeling of sacrifice for Europe during the World War I believe that we are fortunate in not having a larger percentage of war wrecks.

The Princess Louise began to take on a good load of passengers. There were about three hundred of them, all types, from the dignified English to the roughneck American sheiks and flappers. The conservative clique was in the majority. I stood at the rail on the boat deck and watched the herd come aboard.

There is a quartet on board, piano, two violins and a cello. Their music is good and enhanced the attractiveness of the boat.

We sailed from Vancouver at nine that evening and it was just like crossing San Francisco Bay. I was alone at the rail, watching the lights fade away and my old trouble came back. One of the few times I was lonesome. But not for long. No Sir! There was another lone traveller next to me and I mentioned my recollection of San Francisco Bay in watching Vancouver disappear and he responded in true Canadian style. Here are his exact words, "There is a cure for homesickness and I have plenty of ammunition. Do you...?" He said no more. We agreed to go to his room and talk things over.

His name is Merry and he was travelling from Winnipeg to Prince Rupert on business. All Canadians have the same question to put to every American. How is prohibition getting along? This together with a few other subjects dominated our conversation until after midnight. As I tried to tear myself away, he offered to let me share his room with him. It was a much better accommodation than my room but I did not feel like moving my stuff for two nights. He wanted to show me his credentials to prove that he was an honest and sober man, but I wished him good night and went below to my own room. Have spent two nights on the "Louise" but haven't met my roommate yet. He retires and arises too early for me.