Among the celebrations on March 4th was the annual dinner of the Yale class of 1878, given at the Metropolitan Club with President Taft as the guest of honour. Here he enjoyed himself hugely for nearly two hours before going to the ball. The sons of Old Eli gathered from all parts of the land to do honour to “Big Bill Taft,” and songs, toasts, and speeches made the banquet memorable. Seventy-five of the President’s classmates composed the group that gathered to forget the formalities of the day in song and spirit. No incident of the day pleased Mr. Taft more, and in his address to them he declared that they would always find the White House latchstring on the outside. The ball at the Pension Office in the evening was once more a picture of bewildering beauty. This happened, through the trend of circumstances, to be the last of the old-time inaugural balls. The President’s box, a flower-decked affair which extended beyond the first balcony about fifteen feet, had been provided with a huge, handsomely carved mahogany chair, lent for the occasion by a New York admirer. Similar chairs on either side of the throne-like affair were lent by Mrs. A. C. Barney from her famous collection of antiques. The top of the box was crowned with a gold ball surmounted with a golden eagle. Gold-banded fringed curtains of satin and gold columns flanked its sides. The arrival of the presidential party was the occasion for wild applause, for not until the Grand March through the roped-off aisle was completed by the man and the woman in whose honour it was given could the multitude feel that the ball had actually opened. To the music of “Hail to the Chief,” President and Mrs. Taft, followed by Vice President and Mrs. Sherman, made the tour of the room, bowing and smiling their pleasure at the uproar of welcome. They then seated themselves in their box, the President taking the huge armchair which had been provided for him and which, to his amazement, sank down and down until he was almost lost to view in its cushioned depths. The President laughed with the onlooking crowd, but was careful not again to jeopardize his official dignity by floundering in a chair many times too large even for his generous build. Every sort of costume was worn at the ball. The most elegant and costly hand-painted, jewelled robes, shirtwaists and skirts, Sunday-go-to-meeting dresses, sport dresses, and business suits, all were mixed in, as seems customary with the inimitable independence of the American public. Here and there were quaint native dresses of prosperous and curious foreigners, who evidently felt that they were highly presentable at what to them was an American Court function. Nothing pleased the assembled throng more than a little spontaneous gesture by the President, who, when he was about to leave, stepped to the rail, waved his hand to the dancers, and called out “Good-night.”