Just before noon the _Memphis_ came alongside the Navy Yard dock and a gangplank was hoisted to her rail. On the shore were collected a notable group of cabinet officers and high officials. There were the Secretary of the Navy, Curtis D. Wilbur; the Secretary of War, Dwight F. Davis; Postmaster General Harry S. New; and former Secretary of State, Charles Evans Hughes. There were Admiral Edward W. Eberle, Chief of Naval Operations; Major General Mason W. Patrick and Rear Admiral William A. Moffett, heads of the Army and Navy air forces. There was Commander Richard E. Byrd who flew to the North Pole, and who later followed Lindbergh’s trail to France. When the gangplank was in place Admiral Burrage came down it and a moment later returned with a lady on his arm. This lady was Mrs. Evangeline Lindbergh, the young pilot’s mother. Instantly a new burst of cheering went up; but many wept--they knew not just why. For a few minutes mother and son disappeared into a cabin aboard the _Memphis_. It was a nice touch; something more than the brass bands and cheering. And it somehow symbolized a great deal of what was being felt and said that hot morning in our country’s great capital. Next came brief and a somewhat informal greeting by the dignitaries. In their glistening high silk hats they surrounded Lindbergh and for a bit shut him off from the pushing perspiring crowd still held at bay ashore by the bayonets of the marines. Suddenly the crowd could hold its patience no longer. With one frantic push it broke through the ranks of “Devil Dogs” and swarmed down upon the moored vessel. Trouble was averted by the simple expedient of getting Lindbergh quickly into one of the waiting cars and starting for the Navy Yard gate. The parade escort had been lined up some hours ahead of time. Now it got under way toward the center of the city, leading the automobiles that carried the official party. Clattering hoofs of cavalrymen, blare of bands and a rolling cheer along the ranks of waiting thousands marked the progress of the young American flier who had so gloriously come home. Here for the first time Lindbergh saw the spirit in which his people were to greet him. They were curious, yes; crowds always are on such occasions. And they were gay with their handclapping and flag-waving, shouting and confetti throwing. But there was a note of enthusiasm everywhere that transcended just a chorus of holiday seekers witnessing a new form of circus. There was something deeper and finer in the way people voiced their acclaim. Many of them wiped their eyes while they laughed; many stood with expressionless faces, their looks glued upon the face of the lad who had achieved so great a thing and yet seemed to take it all so calmly.