While the general public was deeply interested in Ruth Cleveland, she did not command the same degree of enthusiasm as was showered on her little sister Esther, since Esther was a real White House baby, the ninth child born under that famous roof, just as her mother was the ninth White House bride. These facts gave the people of the country a proprietary feeling toward this mite of humanity, and resulted in a deluge of gifts of all kinds and degrees of loveliness and value. In fact, not only America, but England, France, Germany, Russia, all not only sent messages to the babe and her lovely mother, but followed up their missives of greeting with gifts, until a huge supply had accumulated. There were dainty white furs from the Far North, linens from the cloisters of Spain, dresses, christening robes, sacks, socks, robes, booties of wool, of kid, and of chamois, bibs, wee bits of baby jewellery—everything a baby needs multiplied many times. A room overflowed with toys, and one paper of the time, in describing the deluge, insisted that there were enough cradles, cribs, and carriages for a full score of babies, and toys enough for an asylum.

The day Esther was born, the President received informally the young Japanese Prince Yorihato Komatsu, the grand-nephew of the Mikado, who was travelling around the world incognito.

One of the events in which Washington was greatly interested was the one hundredth anniversary of the laying of the corner stone of the United States Capitol, which occurred on September 18, 1893. The celebration started with the ringing of the centennial chime, after which there was a procession, and other features by civic organizations as nearly like those of a hundred years ago as the changed conditions would permit. William Wirt Henry, a grandson of Patrick Henry, was one of the speakers.

The prevalence of hard times and the growing numbers of unemployed brought to pass the assembling of “armies” in all parts of the country. The first of these aggregations of unemployed, led by a horse dealer named Coxey, set out for Washington from Ohio to demand relief from the government. Other armies with the same object started from the Western Coast states and from Texas, numbering in all about six thousand men. Many of them were honest and sincerely desired work. Others were toughs who joined for a lark and followed what seemed to promise adventure. Still others were plain everyday tramps and loafers and criminals. They begged for food, and when it was not forthcoming they foraged; and when they grew tired of marching, they simply boarded trains and rode. Coxey reached Washington, mounted the steps of the Capitol, made addresses, and hung around the city for a while. His “army” camped near by from April 26 to May 1, 1894. Its presence necessitated the increasing of the White House Guard from twelve to twenty-six men. As long as no open act of lawlessness and disorder was committed, Coxey and his followers were unmolested; they wearied of their futile task and disbanded without accomplishing anything.

Soon afterward, in the city of Chicago, a strike occurred. Two thousand workmen employed by the Pullman Car Company decided they must have higher wages. Men on some of the Western roads also struck out of sympathy for the Pullman workers, deciding they would not work to help in the use or operation of the trains until the Pullman workers got their desired raise. They carried the determined stand so far that, for a time, not a train was running between San Francisco and Chicago.

On June 28th, the American Railway Union, directed by Eugene Debs, declared a boycott on all Pullman cars, thereby tying up all railroads west of Chicago hauling these cars. The next day, the United States Court at Chicago issued an injunction against the strikers, as the mails were prevented from proceeding. When it was brought to the President’s attention that the governor of the State of Illinois either could not or would not take steps to break the strike, he made the cryptic statement, “I will call out the whole army, if necessary, to deliver a postcard.”

Those who knew President Cleveland and his unfaltering determination in the pursuit of duty were satisfied that he would bring the strike to an end.

Major General Miles, then in command of the Missouri, with headquarters in Chicago, brought the news to the President that the city was at the mercy of the mobs, and the seriousness of the situation was intensified by the fact that there was more than twenty million dollars in the Sub-Treasury, a fact that was generally known. The food supplies in the East were jeopardized, especially if the strike were to extend eastward. The President lost no time in ordering the United States troops to the spot. The strike leaders were arrested and communication between them and their henchmen prevented; so the strikers disbanded and went back to work, and the strike collapsed. The relief over the settlement of the trouble may be appreciated when it is realized that a mob of ten thousand men were idle in Chicago alone and that the traffic blockade extended from Illinois through Indiana, Iowa, Missouri, North Dakota, Montana, Oregon, Washington, Wyoming, Colorado, Utah, Nevada, California, New Mexico, and Nebraska.

During this administration it was found expedient to abandon the Force Act. As the country had gradually stabilized and state governments had become efficient, Federal troops were not required to be present at state elections, and the Force Act, providing for such measures when needed, was repealed.

The first year of the second administration was certainly a trying one for the Executive, since, while directing his energies to controlling and conquering a host of problems at home, the nation became involved in another dispute with England over the Behring Sea and seal hunting. Past experience had proved the wisdom of referring such matters of foreign disagreement to a commission. The same policy was followed, and a commission of seven prominent men was chosen by the United States, England, France, Italy, Norway, and Sweden to adjust the matter of contention. An amicable settlement resulted, which provided that the Behring Sea should remain open, but that seals should be protected against indiscriminate killing.