HE TOOK ONE LOAD.
It is reported of the late William H. Vanderbilt that his father, the Commodore, did not give his son, when a young man, much credit for business ability. Absolute verification of this is doubtful, but a good story is told of an incident wherein the son proved that he too carried in his head some of the astuteness in commercial intercourse that his father possessed. The Commodore presented him with a farm on Staten Island, informing him that he might live there, and to make the land pay, as that was all he cared to contribute towards the lad's support. A short time later the Commodore inquired of his son how he was getting along.
"Not very good, father," the young man replied. "What I need badly is some means of improving the earth."
"Well, suppose you go up to my stables and get a load of refuse; but mind, I shall only give you one load."
"All right," replied the son, and he took one load; but, to the astonishment of the Commodore, when he went to the stables they had been entirely cleaned.
"How many loads did that boy of mine cart away from here?" he inquired of the stableman.
"One, sir," replied that functionary; "but he carried the stuff away in a barge, sir."
[LIFE IN THE WHITE HOUSE.]
BY LUCY C. LILLIE.
Once in every four years one lady in the land is called upon to undertake the most onerous of its social duties—those of mistress of the White House—duties which, though attended by fewer formalities, are scarcely less exacting than those of crowned Queen or Princess Royal in a foreign court. Indeed, one may safely affirm that they are far more fatiguing, since the lady of the White House must be equally courteous, attentive, and considerate to all with whom she comes in contact, her doorway excluding only the ragged or disorderly, Betsey Brown, from the remotest village in Maine, enjoying the same right to call upon the President's wife which belongs to the leading society belle of the day, the male members of the two families having shared in electing their President to his office of ruler of the nation. Simple, however, as the etiquette of the White House may be, it is governed by certain rules and customs handed down from one ruler to the next—modified or changed according to the times, but in the main suggested by a spirit of republican simplicity and cosmopolitan good-breeding.
THE WHITE HOUSE.
The President's family occupy a suite of rooms as secluded as possible from public view. They have their own staff of servants under a trained steward and housekeeper; their own personal friends are received and entertained with as much privacy as though the dwelling were not, in part, an official residence. The "state apartments," open to the public at fixed days and hours, include the Red Room, Blue Room, the galleries, etc., about which is a romantic as well as historic interest; and in turn various people are entertained therein as a matter of prescribed formality. All Senators, Congressmen, and their wives and families, foreign diplomats, visitors of any distinction, above and beyond all, the "army and navy," are not only to be received, but during the short winter season specially entertained, a series of dinners and receptions being planned for this purpose.
THE NURSERY.
And meanwhile, is there time, one asks, for much home life in the White House? As a matter of fact, few home circles are more comfortably and agreeably managed than that of the President's family, provided, of course, the "all-ruling spirit"—the mother—has within herself that gracious gift which makes the fireside of home a radiant centre. "Mrs. President's" day can be very closely outlined, excepting, of course, such incidents as may occur at any time to alter the programme or such plans as result from her own personality, and unless she elects to add to her domestic cares, she need have nothing whatever to do with housekeeping matters.
Breakfast in the White House from time immemorial has been a social family gathering, and generally takes place about nine o'clock. After this the President's wife usually goes for a drive, during which she attends to any personal shopping, either visiting the shops herself or sending in her maid with orders, and it is one of the unwritten laws, closely adhered to, that every item purchased shall be scrupulously and promptly paid for—the system of "patronage" so extensively adopted in many foreign countries not holding good, thank fortune, in our republican government. Unless she especially desires to do so, the President's wife makes no calls, one rule of the administration being the blessed one which prohibits her returning any visits. She is therefore free from the terrible social bore and strain—a round of formal calls. Returning from her morning drive, she may be called upon to receive some guest who is invited to luncheon.
The methods of approaching the mistress of the White House or its ladies are pre-eminently simple. If the visitor has a special introduction, he or she can send this by messenger, receiving an answer through one of the President's secretaries. Generally a day and hour will be fixed for the guest to call at the White House, when he or she will be received as in any other mansion, the degree of formality being regulated by that of the introduction. An invitation to luncheon or dinner may follow—possibly to some afternoon drive or theatre party. On levee days some of the ladies of the cabinet, or it may be wives of special members of the Senate or Congress, the army or navy, etc., receive with the President's wife, relieving her in part of the fatigue of these weekly ceremonials. However, it is all so smoothly and agreeably managed that in the course of many administrations the complaints of lack of courtesy have been very few.
MRS. CLEVELAND'S DRAWING-ROOM.
As I have said, the White House is replete with historic and romantic interest. On October 13, 1792, its cornerstone was laid with Masonic ceremonies, and seven years passed before its completion. The original plan called for three stories, but the public raised the cry of economy, and it was cut down to two stories and basement. The entire expense of building the White House, including furnishings, repairs, etc., up to the year 1814, amounted to the small sum of $334,000.
It was first occupied just ninety-six years ago by President John Adams, and various were the struggles to keep it in even ordinary repair. Mrs. Adams, its first mistress, was dissatisfied with the place, and her complaints were varied and numerous. She wrote that "the rooms were large and barren, and that it took a great deal of money to keep them in proper order. Everything is on too grand a scale." It is amusing to know that this lady used what is now called the great state drawing-room to dry the family linen in, stretching the clothes-lines from one wall to another.
A RECEPTION IN THE WHITE HOUSE.
After the decisive battle fought at Bladensburg, Maryland, in the war of 1812, the British advanced upon Washington. President Madison was in the rear of the American lines, and seeing that the city was lost, he sent word to his wife to escape. That noble lady's first thought was to save Stuart's celebrated oil portrait of George Washington, which hung in the White House. Hastening to the room, she had it taken from the wall and carried to the retreating ranks of the American army, thus saving for the republic one of its greatest art treasures. It was during this invasion that the White House obtained its name from the coat of white paint applied to its surface after the burning of its main building. Numberless suggestions have been made to enlarge the official residence, but the public objected. Its present occupation, doubtless, will end with the close of the century and its hundred years of life, since the needs and demands of the President's family and the public have outgrown its proportions and capacity. But it will forever be associated with all that has made our nation important. Tragedy has gone hand in hand with festivity within its walls more than once. The great men of the country have sat in its rooms in grimmest council, when the fate of the nation hung in the balance of a decision that sent a messenger at daybreak flying from the White House gates. Twice its doors have opened to receive a murdered President, and again the joy bells have rung to honor a bride, and a child born in its "purple," yet who lived to toil for her daily bread far from friends and home. It cannot be parted with or even altered carelessly, yet unquestionably its fate is sealed. With the close of the century its story of a hundred years will be told.