Foreign News: Albert A-Hunting

On the high plains to the south of Nairobi in British East Africa the monkeys jabbered noisily as they swung themselves from the mangrove to the coconut palm and clambered about the juniper and olive trees. The chattering stopped; curious faces peered through the leaves toward the ground where a disconsolate lion roamed through the tall grass.

Far away a giraffe stretched its neck, yawned. A rhinoceros began rooting among the herbs and a hippopotamus wallowed in a nearby river with its colts in view of crocodiles, flamingoes, pelicans, cranes.

In another place, an antelope grazed, a zebra pranced. These quadrupeds were hardly disturbed by the diverse noises put up in various directions by the bustard, the secretary-bird, the ostrich, the stork. In the distance, the crashing and the rumbling of a passing elephant could faintly be heard. At the edge of a lake, a giant buffalo bellowed loudly for its mate; a frightened puff adder shot through the grass with incredible speed.

Upon such scenes, walked H. R. H. Albert Frederick Arthur George, Duke of York, at present visiting in the name of his father, King George, the British possessions in East Africa. On this occasion, accompanied by one attendant, the Prince was ahunting. The two had not proceeded far when they came across large indentations in the crust of the rain-sodden earth, plainly the footprints of an odd-toed ungulate mammal. Carefully, cautiously, noiselessly the tracks were followed. Several miles they went before the object of their sleuthing was sighted. Crack! spoke the Duke’s rifle. With a howl of rage and pain, a rhinoceroes turned and charged at the second son of King George, York reserved his fire. Nearer and nearer the enraged animal came, its head lowered, its two white horns gleaming their deadly significance. Nearer and nearer, 50 yards, 40 yards, 30 yards—crack! a bullet sped from York’s rifle … a perissodactyl monster lay dead!

A good “bag” was expected, as the camp was surrounded by lions and many other carnivora. The Duke had previously shot a zebra and a pallah (antelope). The Duchess “bagged” a great collection of small game.

York is aged 29—18 months younger than his eldest brother, Edward of Wales. In the affections of the British people he occupies a high place, but has nothing like the popularity of Wales. The Heir to the throne has to some extent forfeited the favor of the so-called upper classes by failing to take unto himself a wife and by endangering his life recklessly on the hunting field. To the people at large, however, he is as popular as ever, mainly owing to his democratic simplicity, his engaging manner.

York is able to escape much of the publicity that Wales is obliged to bear. By nature he is not so shy, but just as retiring as is his brother. But he is more serious-minded, lacks a keen sense of humor. The Prince takes after his grandfather, Edward VII; the Duke takes after his great-grandfather, Albert, the Prince Consort. Like the latter and like Francis Bacon, he takes all learning to be his province. As a Group Captain in the Royal Air Force bis duties are purely nominal. As personal A. D. C. to the King he takes over many of the duties which fall to the lot of modern royalty; he opens museums, unveils statues, attends dinners, makes speeches, reviews troops, visits slums, heads charities, visits the Dominions, et cetera, et cetera.

Apart from these exacting duties, he has found time to become a fully certified civil and marine engineer, a navigator, an aviator. In this last capacity, owing to his great importance, his activities have been rigorously limited; but the fact remains that he is a fully qualified birdman. His hobby, as he calls it, an absorbing interest in the boyhood of the nation. His summer camps for boys of the poor and rich have been a tremendous success. His interest in the boy scouts has been unflagging. As President of the Homes for Little Boys he has rendered invaluable services.

His efforts on behalf of boys, coupled with his marriage to Lady Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, have made him an outstanding and popular figure. His usually serious face and his thick lips have combined to offset this popularity to an unwarranted degree by giving an impression of stolidity. In actual fact, he is (in a different way) as jovial as his elder brother and, on those rare occasions on which he smiles, that smile is every bit as charming as that which has won Wales world-wide renown. But, unlike the latter, he is not surrounded by the romanticism that is inseparable from a Prince who may one day be England’s king.