When the passenger service of the C.P.R. was inaugurated, the citizens of Montreal, Toronto, Ottawa and other large centres were puzzled and astonished one morning on seeing numerous billboards decorated with streamers on which were printed: “Said the Prince to the Duke: ‘How high we live on the C.P.R.’ ” and “What the Duke said to the Prince: ‘All sensible people travel by the C.P.R.’ ” “Parisian Politeness on the C.P.R.” “Great Salome on the C.P.R.” “Wise Men of the East Go West on the C.P.R.” and “By Thunder-Bay passes the C.P.R.,” the final four words of the latter being in comparatively small type. They created quite a little stir at the time, being something novel in advertising. Twenty-five years later an advertising man recalled the advertisements and gave as his opinion that they were no good, and also intimated that they were really idiotic. “And yet you remember them for a quarter of a century?” I asked. “They must have been pretty good advertising.” And they were. His Work in Cuba. At the time that Sir William Van Horne was constructing his railroad in Cuba, the “Foracker Resolution” was in force, and its terms prohibited any public concession to build railroads or other public works during the life of the U.S. Interventory Government. In spite of this, however, Sir William went ahead with the Cuba railroad, by getting private right-of-way agreements with owners of land over which the railroad was to run. He skipped all public roads and lands, and at the conclusion of the office of the Interventory Government, the Cuban Administration authorized the road so that the missing stretches were constructed, and the road went into operation almost immediately. When Sir William was constructing this railroad, he decided to install a typical railroad hotel in Camaguey, and with his keen eye for detail he had an idea for its decoration. “Why not fit up one of the parlors,” said he, “with panellings of the beautiful native woods of the island? It seems to me that such a room would interest visitors greatly, and give a handsome effect.” His suggestion was carried out to the letter. Next time he arrived in Camaguey the hotel was practically complete, and Sir William recollected his hardwood room and expressed a desire to see it. There was a singular lack of enthusiasm on the part of the officials, and they didn’t make any effort to hurry out Sir William, who was deaf, dumb and blind to the beauty of the weather, the excellence of the service, and the sudden death of anybody’s great-grandmother. He wanted to see that hardwood room, and with drooping eyes and ears, everybody, checkmated, led him to it.