The parade now formed again and moved up Broadway, through Lafayette Street, to Ninth and over to Fifth. At Madison Square it halted at the Shaft of Eternal Light. The ceremony was touching and impressive. The tall shaft topped by a crystal star, imprisoning light everlasting, was a fitting memorial to the men who gave up their lives in the World War. Lindbergh here laid a wreath in their memory. Fifth Avenue had been packed with people since morning. It was now mid-afternoon. As in Washington a wave of cheering marked the progress of the car which held the city’s guest of honor. At St. Patrick’s Cathedral he stopped, got out of his automobile and met Cardinal Hayes. In Central Park the official city welcome ended amid a gathering estimated at above 300,000 people. Bands were playing and automobile horns added to the din. Governor Smith of New York was waiting there with his staff on a specially built reviewing stand. He pinned on Lindbergh the State Medal of Honor: adding again to the ever lengthening list of honors. There was again an exchange of speeches met by salvos of applause. A sky writer wrote “Hail Lindy” high in the air. Policemen wrestled with swaying crowds. More than on the avenue it seemed as if the city were concentrated for a Lindbergh it would never forget. Near five the great demonstration came to an end. For a few hours the center of attraction could escape to the refuge that had been prepared for him and his mother in a private apartment. But this escape was qualified by the fact that it took a large guard to hold in check the many people who sought access to Lindbergh for one reason or another. At 8:15 P.M. he rode out on Long Island to the beautiful estate of Clarence Mackay, head of the Postal Telegraph Company. The place had been transformed into a fairyland of colored Japanese lanterns, fountains and illuminated shrubbery. Eighty of New York’s most prominent people attended the dinner which was kingly in its appointments. Later several hundred guests came in for dancing. It would have seemed that this first terrific day might have exhausted the ardor of the city’s welcome. But there followed a kaleidoscopic week that was, if anything, more trying. Not only did Lindbergh move amid a growing chorus of business offers, but his social engagements jammed tighter and tighter as the hours passed. Moreover, his plane was still in Washington, although he was scheduled to fly it to St. Louis for the week-end. The City of New York gave Lindbergh a dinner of some 4000 guests at the Hotel Commodore. It was there that Mr. Hughes spoke the following unique tribute: