Jackson usually flavored his dinners and receptions with a dash of the unexpected. On one occasion he jostled the proprieties by singing “Auld Lang Syne.” He ate sparingly at his own table but talked a great deal, slowly and quietly, and, when women were present, with much real kindliness of tone. He had a homely way of disposing of questions which he regarded as not overimportant. At a dinner in honor of the marriage of his adopted son, Andrew Jackson, Junior, he decided on an innovation in etiquette by having his Secretary of State precede the diplomatic corps, the rest of the Cabinet to follow the foreigners. This plan was vigorously resisted by the Secretary of the Treasury, who argued that the Cabinet was a unit, and that its members should therefore be treated on an equal footing. “In that case,” said the President, “we will put all the Cabinet ahead of the diplomats,” and he sent his private secretary, Major Donelson, to make the announcement to the guests. The French Minister at once stirred up the Dutch Minister, as senior member of the corps, to prevent the threatened indignity. Meanwhile, dinner had been announced, and every one was standing. Donelson reported the strained situation to the President, who, instead of vowing “by the Eternal” that his commands should be obeyed, smiled good-naturedly and said: “Well, I will lead with the bride. It is a family affair; so we’ll waive all difficulties, and the company will please to follow as heretofore.” The first baby born in the White House probably was Mary Emily Donelson, child of the private secretary. At her baptism in the east room the President and Martin Van Buren stood as godfathers. Van Buren took her in his arms when she was first brought in, but she squirmed and wriggled so that Jackson reached out for her, whereat she cooed with delight, as children always did at any attention from him. He held her throughout the service, and, at the minister’s question, “Do you, in the name of this child, renounce the devil and all his works?” he stiffened up as he might have if confronted with a fresh machination of his enemies, and declared with characteristic emphasis: “I do, sir; I renounce them all!”