hiladelphia, he was, of course, always present at the ball, and made
no effort to conceal his pleasure and gratitude for this mark of esteem.
The entire day was given over to pomp and ceremony. According to a
description by Miss Chambers, "The morning of the 'twenty-second' was
ushered in by the discharge of heavy artillery. The whole city was in
commotion, making arrangements to demonstrate their attachment to our
beloved President. The Masonic, Cincinnati, and military orders united
in doing him honor." In describing the hall, she says: "The seats were
arranged like those of an amphitheatre, and cords were stretched on each
side of the room, about three feet from the floor, to preserve
sufficient space for the dances. We were not long seated when General
Washington entered and bowed to the ladies as he passed round the
room.... The dancing soon after commenced."[225]

There can be little doubt that Mrs. Washington enjoyed her stay in
Philadelphia far more than the period spent in New York. In Philadelphia
there was a very noticeable atmosphere of hospitality and easy
friendliness; here too were many Southern visitors and Southern customs;
for in those days of difficult travel Philadelphia seemed much nearer to
Virginia than did New York. Even with such a congenial environment
Martha Washington, with her innate domesticity, was constantly thinking
of life at Mount Vernon, and in the midst of festivities and assemblies
of genuine diplomatic import, would stop to write to her niece at home
such a thoroughly housewifely message as: "I do not know what keys you
have--it is highly necessary that the beds and bed clothes of all kinds
should be aired, if you have the keys I beg you will make Caroline put
all the things of every kind out to air and brush and clean all the
places and rooms that they were in."

But Mrs. Washington was not alone in Philadelphia in this domestic
tendency; many of those women who dazzled both Americans and foreigners
with their beauty and social graces were most careful housekeepers, and
even expert at weaving and sewing. Sarah Bache, for example, might
please at a ball, but the next morning might find her industriously
working at the spinning wheel. We find her writing her father, Ben
Franklin, in 1790: "If I was to mention to you the prices of the common
necessaries of life, it would astonish you. I should tell you that I
had seven tablecloths of my own spinning." Again, she shrewdly requests
he