“Be it enacted, etc. That any person or persons for themselves or others or for corporations who shall publicly exhibit, use or employ the likeness or representation of any female living or dead, who is or was the wife, mother, daughter or sister of any citizen of the United States without the consent in writing of the person whose likeness is to be used shall be guilty of high misdemeanor and shall upon indictment be fined not less than $500. nor more than $5,000. and stand imprisoned until fine and costs are paid.”
Needless to add, the bill joined the great procession of the unpassed measures. Mrs. Cleveland inaugurated Saturday afternoon receptions, so that women who were employed might also have the opportunity to visit the White House. At many of her receptions, people would go through the line several times just to see her smile and again shake her hand.
Although Mrs. Cleveland’s time was so filled with demands that she had little time for informal correspondence, the appeal of a child was never ignored. At the opening of Lent, a Sunday-school superintendent of Youngsville, Pa., gave each of his thirty-three pupils between seven and ten years of age one penny with the instruction to invest it in something that could be sold and reinvested so that at the end of Lent each child would have an Easter offering to bring representing its own industrious effort. A little girl of this group wrote to Mrs. Cleveland enclosing in the letter a penwiper which she had made and which she asked the First Lady to buy, telling the story.
Mrs. Cleveland sent the following reply:
Executive Mansion, Washington,
May 9, 1888.
My dear little Friend:
I am very glad to buy your holder. You did not say how much it was so I send you twenty-five cents and I trust it will help you a little. I think it is very nice for little girls to know how to help and I trust you will go on all your life doing what you can for others.
Sincerely your friend,
Frances F. Cleveland.
A competent housekeeper was installed, and thus the new mistress of the mansion enjoyed her life there intensely. She was fond of dogs, and the big mastiff, a gift to her, seemed to realize the great importance and dignity of his position, as he majestically walked or stood by her side. She was an enthusiastic amateur photographer. Mrs. Cleveland loved the flowers. The conservatory was a constant delight to her. She filled the private part of the house with song birds, mocking birds, and canaries. Upon one occasion, the President, trying to concentrate upon a message late in the night, had to call one of the White House staff to remove a mocking bird that insisted upon singing. The story related is to the effect that, after the bird had been placed in an unlighted room, his song ceased, and the President, becoming anxious lest his wife’s pet might take a chill, had it carefully placed out of drafts.
Mrs. Cleveland, wholly natural, unaffected, and genuine, won the hearts of the people literally by the minute. She liked people and everyday things. She had a quality of cordiality in her greetings that was convincingly sincere. One of the little bits of gossip of her first reception shows the President’s pride and confidence in her ability to carry her social responsibilities without his supporting presence. Mrs. Folsom had invaded his office to urge that he go down to see that everything started off well. Though exceedingly busy with papers piled high, he accompanied her, and they slipped into the room without being observed by the new First Lady. They stood watching her fully five minutes as the long stream of people were being presented to her. They heard her cheery, hearty greetings, saw the pleased, admiring faces, and then the President—more the proud husband than the nation’s chief—touched his mother-in-law on the arm and pridefully, though laconically, remarked, “She’ll do! She’ll do!”