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the wish of its occupants. There are certain events that must be provided for, however. There must be two or three public receptions during a session of congress, a New Year's reception, with attendance of the senators and congressmen, of the foreign ambassadors, of the officers of the army and navy, and lastly of the pushing, powerful public. The dinner invitations of the President usually include within the season, the senators, the justices of the supreme court, the cabinet, the foreign ministers and certain distinguished men in the house and in the army and navy. There is also once or twice in the season a reception given by the President for the senators and the representatives and their families, for which cards are issued.

Of course, there is much informal social life in the White House, and that is, perhaps, the most enjoyable-a few guests to luncheon or dinner, with music and conversation in the evening, after the custom of any other well-conducted family. Formerly, there was a traditional etiquette which forbade a President to make visits or to be a guest in the house of any friend. But General Grant, with his prompt common sense, saw fit to break through this precedent, and his successors have been glad to follow his example. Now the President has all the social liberty he desires; he may make calls, dine out, attend receptions and avail himself of all his social privileges, to his own pleasure. “It is pleasing to notice,” says a keen observer of men and things at the capital, “that the tendency of White House customs is toward less formality and more ease and freedom of social intercourse, rather than in the other direction. And this is remarkable at a time when our new moneyed aristocracy is aping the manners of courts and surrounding itself with liveried flunkies."



HE oid state-nouse m Pnjažeipnia was the birth-place of Ameri

can liberty, in commemoration of which it now bears the name of Independence naīī. Ir siands on Chestnut street, extending from Fifth to Sixth. The assembiy of Pennsylvania, on the fourteenth of May. 1729, made an appropriation of two thousand pounds for the muilding of “a house for the assembly of this province to meet in.” work was begun in 1732, and the building was completed in 1735.

When the time was ripe for the young Nation “to become a man, for the child to cease to sleep with its mother," the meeting-place of the assembly was naturally the National capital, then Philadelphia, and the state-house the place in which their deliberations were held. Here, in the old east room, was signed the Declaration of Independence, which it cost us so much blood to maintain; here was framed that matchless piece of statesmanship, the Constitution, and here was gathered, from time to time, the most remarkable body of men that it has ever been the fortune of this, perhaps of any country, to furnish at one time, for the deliberation of questions of state.

Aside from its associations, there is nothing remarkable about the building, a long, low structure of the plain colonial architecture. In these days of “Gothic” and “Renaissance” and “Queen Anne," it seems unpretentious enough. Its architect was Dr. John Kearsley of that city, who had also been the architect of old Christ church, and the building, when finished, was pronounced a model of elegance and taste. The addition of a belfry was deprecated by some of the more conservative fathers-who wore broad brims, no doubt-as a touch of too great pretension and savoring of extravagance; but a kindly fate overruled these objections and the belfry was added, with its big

bell, which did indeed afterward "proclaim liberty throughout all the land."

As little change as possible has been made in the appearance of the building, save that ever-to-be-regretted one made in 1800 by some persons in temporary authority, who wished to beautify the rooms for the reception of La Fayette, when he came to revisit America as the Nation's honored guest. The centre of this æsthetic vandalism was the east room; the ancient panelings, the carvings, the old furniture, even the beautiful chandelier, a relic of colonial days, were torn down, cast aside as useless lumber, and something “prettier" substituted. In 1833, however, the old wood-work was restored as faithfully as possible, and the room now bears, in all important particulars, the aspect which it bore when, with John Adams as president of the senate, 'the debates of the first United States congress were conducted with "the most delightful siience, the most beautiful order, gravity and personal dignity of manner, and three genile taps from the silver pencil-case of the president were enough to compose the most excited discussions and restore evervthing to repose and the most respectful attention.”


S the period for the third Presidential election approached, much

anxiety was felt and expressed lest Washington should resuse a renomination. It was known that the press of public life was becoming distasteful to him, and that, after his first term, he had fully formed a purpose to retire-a purpose from which nothing but a stern sense of duty had dissuaded him. Now, with the stress of the European wars still upon the Nation, it was feared that the withdrawal of the powerful personality that had thus far guided the country would bring disaster. But Washington felt that the government of the United States was founded on the people of the United States, and that no one man was essential to the existence of the government; he felt, too, that he had more than earned the right to the retirement he so desired, and he therefore announced, in the calm and irrevocable words of his farewell address, his determination to retire.

Before Washington had laid aside his first purpose to retire, Mr. Madison had prepared for him, from Washington's own heads and notes, a declaration suitable for such a retirement. This he now sent to Alexander Hamilton, with the request that it be redressed and retouched so as to fit the present occasion. “My wish is,” he wrote, "that the whole may appear in a plain style, and be handed to the public in an honest, unaffected, simple garb.” There has always been-probably there always will be discussion as to how much of this remarkable composition is due to Washington, how much of it Madison may have contributed, and how much is the result of Hamilton's revision. It is a matchless piece of eloquence, “unaffected and simple,” but calm, strong, judicial, statesmanlike. We have but

(ne piece of political literature worthy to stand beside it-Lincoln's address at Gettysburgh.

The manuscript, as finally given to the press, is in the handwriting of Washington, with many interlinings and corrections, showing that his revision was last and decisive. It was published on September 17, 1796, in the Daily Advertiser, a Philadelphia paper. Its publication produced a sensation that would have satisfied the most ambitious newspaper of the present day. It was instantaneous in hushing the abuse of Washington by the opposition party, who looked upon him as a certain candidate for renomination, and it "served for a signal like the dropping of a hat,” wrote Fisher Ames, "for the party racers to start, and I expect a great deal of noise, whipping and spurring.'

The following copy of the Farewell Address gives the text in full, and is authentic in all respects:



FRIENDS AND FELLOW-CITIZENS,— The period for a new election of a citizen, to administer the executive government of the United States, being not far distant, and the time actually arrived, when your thoughts must be employed in designating the person, who is to be clothed with that important trust, it appears to me proper, especially as it may conduce to a more distinct expression of the public voice, that I should now apprize you of the resolution I have formed, to decline being considered among the number of those, out of whom a choice is to be made. I beg you, at the same time, to do me the justice to be assured, that this resolution has not been taken without a strict regard to all the considerations appertaining to the relation, which binds a dutiful citizen to his country; and that, in withdrawing the tender of service, which silence in my situation might imply, I am influenced by no diminution of zeal for your future interest; no deficiency of grateful respect for your past kindness; but am supported by a full conviction that the step is compatible with both.

The acceptance of, and continuance hitherto in, the office to which your suffrages have twice called me, have been a uniform sacrifice of inclination to the opinion of duty, and to a deference for what appeared to be your desire. I constantly hoped, that it would have been much earlier in my power, consistently with motives, which I

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