Curls of steam and greasy smells rose, one morning last week, around a locomotive which waited in London, ready to whisk a trainload of tourists off to Southampton and the Cunarder Aquitania. Pensive, the engineer spat from his cab upon the platform. "D'ye twig wha's aboord?" he said to the fireman, "Mon, I wud sooner drive Mac any day than the King himsel'!". . .
The Right Honorable James Ramsay Macdonald was indeed aboard, bound for Southampton and the U. S. A crowd of friends, most of them potent Laborites, stood tip-toe on...
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