there was a dead
silence almost. Mrs. Washington at last withdrew with the ladies. I
expected the men would now begin, but the same stillness remained. The
President told of a New England clergyman who had lost a hat and wig in
passing a river called the Brunks. He smiled, and everybody else laughed.
He now and then said a sentence or two on some common subject, and what he
said was not amiss.... The President ... played with the fork, striking on
the edge of the table with it. We did not sit long after the ladies
retired. The President rose, went up-stairs to drink coffee; the company
followed."

[Illustration: PRESIDENTIAL DINNER INVITATION]

Bradbury gives the menu of a dinner at which he was, where "there was an
elegant variety of roast beef, veal, turkey, ducks, fowls, hams, &c.;
puddings, jellies, oranges, apples, nuts, almonds, figs, raisins, and a
variety of wines and punch. We took our leave at six, more than an hour
after the candles were introduced. No lady but Mrs. Washington dined with
us. We were waited on by four or five men servants dressed in livery." At
the last official dinner the President gave, Bishop White was present, and
relates that "to this dinner as many were invited as could be accommodated
at the President's table.... Much hilarity prevailed; but on the removal
of the cloth it was put an end to by the President--certainly without
design. Having filled his glass, he addressed the company, with a smile on
his countenance, saying: 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is the last time I
shall drink your health, as a public man. I do it with sincerity, and
wishing you all possible happiness.' There was an end of all pleasantry."

A glance at Mrs. Washington's receptions has been given, but the levees of
the President remain to be described. William Sullivan, who attended many,
wrote,--

"At three o'clock or at any time within a quarter of an hour afterward,
the visitor was conducted to this dining room, from which all seats had
been removed for the time. On entering, he saw" Washington, who "stood
always in front of the fire-place, with his face towards the door of
entrance. The visitor was conducted to him, and he required to have the
name so distinctly pronounced that he could hear it. He had the very
uncommon faculty of associating a man's name, and personal appearance, so
durably in his memory, as to be able to call one by name, who made him a
second visit. He received his visitor with a dig