"HOW NOW, MAD WAG!"

The royal wedding of the Duke of York was a dazzling affair, but even the pageantry of that occasion could not obscure the Prince of Wales. He stood out in the news stories amid organdie, crowns, and bishops' robes, impeccably but jauntily dressed, twirling a cane. He maintained an amused nonchalance despite the fact that one more "possibility" was walking down the aisle as an engaged bridesmaid.

But he has always cared more for the steeplechase than the altar, has always been more willing to risk the royal neck in a race than the royal finger in a ring. He can scarce raise an eyebrow but the whole world notes the new slant, a dozen ladies are waiting for the word;--he smiles with appreciation and goes on with his game. He merely enters another Derby, carries a bobbing crown over hedges and dumps it in a creek.

There are but two explanations of the seeming unregeneracy of this Prince Hal. Royal families have always been reckless. William the Conqueror fell to his death from a horse which had stepped on a hot cinder. King Edward followed the hounds hard, and killed single-handed an Indian tiger which had attacked his elephant. George 11 was small and choleric, but he rode obstinately into the cannon balls at Dettingen. The Prince has precedent, and a family. His three brothers and Princess Mary's Master Lascelles constitute a large royal family; he does not see the necessity of looking out for the whole kingdom through his own monocle. If the burden of the throne appears too formidable for him, there is the Duke of York, serious and domesticated. They might very well go halves.