Mrs. Madison never forgot the name of any person to whom she had been introduced, nor any incident connected with any person whom she knew. Able to summon these at an instant’s notice, she instinctively made each individual, who entered her presence, feel that he or she was an object of especial interest. Nor was this mere society-manners. Genial and warm-hearted, it was her happiness to make everybody feel as much at ease as possible. This gentle kindness, the unknown and lowly shared equally with the highest in worldly station. At one of her receptions her attention was called to a rustic youth whose back was set against the wall. Here he stood as if nailed to it, till he ventured to stretch forth his hand and take a proffered cup of coffee. Mrs. Madison, according to her wont, wishing to relieve his embarrassment, and put him at his ease, walked up and spoke to him. The youth, astonished and overpowered, dropped the saucer, and unconsciously thrust the cup into his breeches pocket. “The crowd is so great, no one can avoid being jostled,” said the gentle woman. “The servant will bring you another cup of coffee. Pray, how did you leave your excellent mother? I had once the honor of knowing her, but I have not seen her for some years.” Thus she talked, till she made him feel that she was his friend, as well as his mother’s. In time, he found it possible to dislodge the coffee cup from his pocket, and to converse with the Juno-like lady in a crimson turban, as if she were an old acquaintance. Like Amelia Opie, and other beautiful “Friends,” who have shone amid “the world’s people,” Mrs. Madison delighted in deep warm colors, the very opposite of the silver grays of a demure Quakeress. At the inauguration ball, when Jefferson, the outgoing President, came to receive Madison, his successor, Mrs. Madison wore a robe of buff-colored velvet, a Paris turban with a bird of paradise plume, with pearls on her neck and arms. A chronicler of the event says that she “looked and moved a queen.” Jefferson was all life and animation, while the new President looked care-worn and pale. “Can you wonder at it?” said Jefferson. “My shoulders have just been freed from a heavy burden—his just laden with it.” When a manager brought Mrs. Madison the first number in the dance, she said, smiling: “I never dance; what shall I do with it?” “Give it to the lady next to you,” was the answer. “No, that would look like partiality.” “Then I will,” said the manager, and presented it to her sister.