I "Going to Mr. President's!" That is what the hundreds of little boys and girls will tell you any Easter Monday morning, should you chance to stop them and ask their destination as they go toddling along the streets of Washington with baskets of eggs hanging on their arms and a glad delight shining in their eyes. They make up a very "mixed" crowd, these children! There is the dainty little miss in richly embroidered frock and wide silk sash, with one tiny hand held tightly in the grasp of a big negro nurse and the other hand clasping lovingly a basket of pretty coloured eggs; there is another little girl in a very clean but much-faded gingham or print apron, trotting along at her mother's side—the mother dressed, perchance, in shabby black, belonging to the class known in the Southern part of the States as the "poor whites"; there is also the trio of little "darkey" girls, dancing merrily along the sidewalk, swinging their egg-baskets as though with intention of spilling the eggs over passers-by, yet never quite dropping them, and singing the while as they keep step— "Tra la la la, tra la la la, Easter Monday morning!" There are nice, smart-looking little boys, strutting along proudly in their first pair of knickerbockers, with pockets bulging out with Easter eggs, their black nurses walking just a few steps behind them; there are the poor white boys whose clothes are patched and boots worn with toes protruding. On other days they sell newspapers, black boots, and do "odd jobbs" to earn a few cents, but on Easter Monday morning they somehow get together a collection of coloured eggs and go to see the President. Then there are the little black boys, some smartly dressed (for many of the coloured people of Washington invasion On no other day during the year does Washington present so interesting and picturesque an appearance as on Easter Monday, and it is the happiest day of all the year with the children of the Capitol City. In England, of course, Easter Monday is always a Bank Holiday, but not so in the United States. In New York and other large American cities banks and shops and schools are open as usual; but in the district of Columbia, where Washington is situated, it is a legal holiday. That in itself makes it a happy time for the children. Then, add to the joy of having no lessons to learn the fact that they are allowed to take Not even the oldest inhabitants of Washington can remember the time when the boys and girls of the city did not celebrate Easter Monday by "egg-rolling," although the children of fifty years ago rolled their eggs down Capitol Hill, under the shadow of the magnificent Capitol building, instead of on the White House lawn. Year after year the children of former generations trudged up the great hill with their egg-baskets over their arms and had the happiest times imaginable with their Easter games. One Easter Monday, however, about twenty years ago, hundreds of boys and girls went to Capitol Hill with their eggs just as they had done in previous years, when they were astonished to be hustled off the grounds by special messengers and policemen from the Senate and House of Representatives, who declared that the distinguished Senators and Congressmen in convention assembled had made up their minds that their "door-yard" was no longer to be disfigured for days after Easter Monday with broken eggs and vari-coloured shells! They were weary of having their highly polished boots smeared with yolks of eggs, and Easter Monday "egg-rolling" in Washington was to be ended! Then there went up all about the precincts of the nation's Capitol a loud wail of anguish and wrath from hundreds of childish throats, in which the numerous nurses and attendants joined. Many boys and girls gathered on the steps of the building, sobbing in disappointment, some of the larger boys throwing out direful hints of vengeance to be wreaked on the heads of the nation's law-makers; but the stately Senators remained stony-hearted, in spite of it all. In the midst of the tearful hubbub the President's carriage drove past, and President Hayes (the then head of the nation) drew up near the portico to inquire why the children wept instead of rolling their eggs on Easter Monday. A chorus of voices informed him that the "nasty Senators wouldn't let them play any more because they messed up the grounds"; and then again from the throng of little ones confronting the President there arose fresh outbursts of grief and indignation. Mr Pres "Never you mind, children," said President Hayes soothingly. "You may come right up to my house and play in my back yard." Then the mourning was turned to rejoicing. Every child knew that in all the city of Washington there was not so wonderful a "back yard" as that which belonged to the White House. Its beautifully kept slopes were ideal places for "egg-rolling," and then there was the great fountain in the middle of the lawn! So when the President's carriage started to return to the White House, it was followed by several hundred boys and girls swinging their egg-baskets, and singing and shouting out their gratitude to the President of the United States, who was going to let them play in his garden. I doubt if ever an American President had an escort of which he White House Outside the gates they were kept waiting for about an hour, while the President gave his hurried instructions to the gardeners to put the place in readiness. At eleven o'clock the gates swung open, and from that time till six o'clock the children rolled their eggs. Ever since then Washington children have gone regularly every Easter Monday to play in the President's "back yard," each of President Hayes's successors having kept up the custom of inserting in the Washington papers each year an invitation to all the children residents of the town to spend the day rolling eggs on the lawn. In President Hayes's time his own children joined in the sport, and during the last term of President Cleveland the President's little girls, who were considered too young to roll eggs with the elder children, were kept on the back portico with their mother or their nurse, where they could watch the progress of the games. Two years ago, on Easter Monday, I spent the day on the White House lawn, watching the big "Presidential children's party," as it is called. The gates were opened at a little after ten o'clock, and during the day there were several thousand children playing in the grounds. Many of the children, besides carrying their baskets of eggs, carried also their luncheon-baskets, and when tired of games they sat about on the grass, picnic-fashion, eating bread-and-butter and cakes and hard-boiled eggs. I should here mention that, although the President does not consider it necessary to make any rules for the preservation of order among his young guests—it being taken for granted that all children invited to the President's garden will behave in their very best style—he always requests that those who accept his invitation to roll their eggs on his lawn will be particular to bring with them only eggs that are thoroughly hard boiled, for in the game of "egg-picking" the use of raw or soft-boiled eggs would be, to say the least, most inconvenient! The game of "egg-picking" is a very simple one, although it is entered into most enthusiastically by the boys and girls. The children separate themselves into groups of eight or ten, then seat themselves on the grass at the top of the slopes and roll their eggs down to the bottom. The eggs that make the descent without getting cracked or "picked" may be brought back and re-rolled, until they do get cracked or until the game is over, while those that get "picked" are placed back in the baskets. The boy who can hit his neighbour's egg and "pick" it without "picking" his own is looked upon as something of a hero. Of course, toward the end of the game many of the players drop out, all of their eggs having got "picked." Very often the players are reduced to two who show themselves particularly expert, and then there is great excitement watching for the winner. Besides the game of "egg-picking" there are egg-ball games, egg croquet Although many of the children spend the entire day on the lawn, numbers of them remain for a couple of hours only. By this means the grounds are not kept so crowded as they would otherwise be. The hours between three and five o'clock, however, are considered the most enjoyable, as during that time the President always arranges to have the Marine Baud to entertain the children with music, and it is at that time also that the President makes his appearance out on the back portico to greet the children. It is, of course, thoroughly understood that so busy a man as the President cannot spend his whole day with his young visitors. He entertains them by turning over his grounds to them, and they enjoy themselves in their own way without molestation. On the afternoon of the Easter Monday which I spent in Washington President McKinley came out on the portico at about half-past three. He took off his hat and waved it to the children, who all gathered as near as possible about the portico and shouted out— "Howdy do, Mr. President? Howdy do, howdy do?"—the boys taking off their caps and the little girls waving their handkerchiefs. "How do you do, children? Glad to see you, and hope you are having a good time!" shouted back the President. McKinley "Splendid time, Mr. President, and thank you for your invitation," called back the delighted little guests. "That's right!" returned the President, laughing. "I hope you'll all come again next Easter Monday." "Thank you, Mr. President. Good-bye, good-bye!" shouted the children. Then President McKinley went back to his duties of State and the children returned to their egg-rolling. Mrs. McKinley sat on the portico most of the afternoon watching the merriment. Occasionally a little boy or girl would edge up to the portico, and push a blue or red egg through the railings, saying: "Please, Mrs. President, I've brought you one of my eggs to keep!" Mrs. McKinley accepted the little presents with the sweetest of smiles and a "Thank you." At about two o'clock in the afternoon the White House lawn looked like a large picnic ground. Some of the children had brought napkins to lay upon the grass when they should be ready to eat their luncheon, and on the napkins they spread their boiled eggs and bread-and-butter. One little girl, when I complimented her on her daintiness, explained: "I does it so I won't get eggshells on Mr. President's grass! My mamma told me I must be careful, cos it wouldn't be very nice if the President of the 'Nited States had to go round to-morrow picking up eggshells after me!" During the afternoon there were several slight accidents at the fountain. Some of the children delighted in digging all the meat from their eggs through the smallest possible aperture and then floating the empty shells in the lower basin of the fountain where the water was undisturbed. In trying to keep their improvised ships from sailing away, two little girls fell into the water, but they were quickly rescued by their nurses and taken home to be dried. At five o'clock the crowd began to disperse, and at a little past six the small guests of the President had all left the lawn and were on their way to their various homes. Such a variety of homes, indeed, they went to! Some to magnificent mansions on Connecticut Avenue. Their fathers were high Government officials, Senators, members of the Cabinet, and their mothers well-known society women. Other little boys and girls went to very humble homes and minded their little baby brothers and sisters while their mothers got supper; and then there were the homes in the localities given over almost entirely to the negro population. Before the War their parents and grandparents had been slaves, little dreaming that their descendants would ever be invited along with the children of the aristocratic whites to play in the President's "back yard"! By the way, what a sight that "back yard" did present on the morning following Easter Monday! There were four gardeners busily at work with rakes and brooms and baskets. They were gathering up the litter of eggshells, breadcrumbs, bits of paper, lost playthings, and tiny bits of muslin and calico that had somehow got torn off the dresses of some of the children. At the fountain one of the gardeners was fishing out pieces of string and floating shells. It was four o'clock when the garden was finally "picked up" and shorn of its festive appearance. It was then absolutely "spick and span," and no one could ever have guessed that the day before it had been a playground for several thousand children! Elizabeth L. Banks. decor FORGIVENESS.Within a spacious hall, before a fire Whose flick'ring light danced weirdly on his brow, Stood Peter mutely brooding o'er his vow To die with Christ, though thousands should conspire To wreak their vengeance, profitless and dire, On Christ and all who faith in Him avow. With sin the soul of Peter struggled now, When, "Known, or not, to Jesus?" men inquire. "I know Him not"—thus, falsely, thrice he swore; And think you that because this weak man fell The God-Man would deny him evermore? Christ looked upon him, and that look did spell: "For thee My soul shall on the Cross be riven, And, therefore, Peter, is thy sin forgiven!" Louis H. Victory. Our Roll of Heroic Deeds The above picture records a brave attempted rescue on the part of Private Frederick Lakeman Banks, of the London Rifle Brigade. When on the way to the Rainham Rifle Range some time ago, Banks and several of his companions were attracted to this spot by the cries of some bystanders, who stated that a child had fallen into the thick muddy water of the tidal creek and had disappeared. Banks immediately threw off his coat, plunged into the filthy water, and after a three minutes' search succeeded in finding the boy. Unhappily, the child was past help; but, all the same, the gallantry displayed by the rescuer was rewarded by the bestowal of the Bronze Medal of The Quiver Heroes' Fund. Lucretia
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