Midway between a President’s levee and a private entertainment lies the social ground occupied by the card reception. It is semi-official in its character, because public position has much to do with general invitations extended to the guests. It does not necessarily follow that calls must have been exchanged between any of the parties in the contest. A man is invited because he is a Senator, head of a bureau, or an upper clerk in either branch of Congress. At the same time each Cabinet minister means to look after the social interests of his own State by gathering under his hospitable wings as many of its citizens stopping in Washington as his mansion will possibly admit, estimated by cubic measure. Since the beginning of the social season four out of the seven Cabinet ministers have issued cards for three receptions each. These include Secretaries Fish, Belknap, Cox, and Postmaster-General Cresswell. The receptions held at the magnificent mansion of the Secretary of State have been simply a continuation of those elegant entertainments for which his distant home was celebrated when he was a citizen in private life. Only a man of great wealth can afford to be an American “Premier.” All the foreign legations are gathered around his liberal American hearth, and is it not most consoling to our national pride to remember that it is broad and generous in every sense of the word? Yet why our open-handed countryman should be obliged to spend his private means to keep up the dignity of the Republic only the people through their representatives can answer. Elegantly unostentatious have been the receptions held at the handsome residence of the three remaining ministers. In either case no effort has been made of display. It would seem that these Secretaries have a just appreciation of the social bearings of their positions, and yet realize, with Mr. Dawes, that, in the face of the financial peril of the country, frugality and economy should be the order of the day. The great reception triumph of the season has been held at the historic Seward mansion, at present the home of the Secretary of War. Outside of the public buildings no house in Washington is so memorable in associations as this plain, unpretending pile of brick and mortar. It is broad, old-fashioned, with rooms extending far back, and everything about it reminds one of the good old days of one’s grandfather, and its severe simplicity is as refreshing as pure air when compared with the sensuous gingerbread work of the luxurious modern mansion.