Major Huger had heard of the Marquis de Lafayette, for already news of the Frenchman’s determination to fight for the young republic had crossed the Atlantic. He caught Lafayette by both hands. “The Marquis de Lafayette!” he cried. “My house is indeed honored by your presence! We have all heard of you. You have only to command me, sir, and I will do your bidding. I will look after your ship and your pilot. But to-night you must stay here as my guests, and to-morrow I will see to everything. This is my son, Francis Kinloch Huger. Now please come into my dining-room, gentlemen, and let me offer you some refreshment.” Small Francis, still holding Lafayette’s hand, drew the Marquis in at the door. The three guests, delighted at their welcome, went to the dining-room, and there toasts were drunk to the success of the cause of liberty. America was not so inhospitable to the weary travelers after all, and with the glow of the Major’s welcome warming them, Lafayette and his two friends went to their rooms and slept in real beds for the first time in many weeks. Lafayette naturally was delighted at safely reaching his haven, and, as he put it in his own words, “retired to rest rejoiced that he had at last attained the haven of his wishes and was safely landed in America beyond the reach of his pursuers.” Weary from his long voyage on the _Victory_, he slept soundly, and woke full of enthusiasm for this new country, which was to be like a foster-mother to him. “The next morning,” he wrote, “was beautiful. The novelty of everything around me, the room, the bed with its mosquito curtains, the black servants who came to ask my wishes, the beauty and strange appearance of the country as I could see it from my window clothed in luxuriant verdure,--all conspired to produce upon me an effect like magic and to impress me with indescribable sensations.” Major Huger had already sent a pilot to the _Victory_ and had done everything he could to assist Lafayette’s companions. All the Major’s family were so kind and hospitable that they instantly won Lafayette’s heart. He judged that all Americans would be like them, and wrote to his wife, “the manners of this people are simple, honest, and dignified. The wish to oblige, the love of country, and freedom reign here together in sweet equality. All citizens are brothers. They belong to a country where every cranny resounds with the lovely name of Liberty. My sympathy with them makes me feel as if I had been here for twenty years.” It was well for him that his first reception in America was so pleasant and that he remembered it with such delight, for he was later to find that some Americans were not so cordial toward him. If he was delighted with the Hugers, the Major and his son Francis were equally delighted with the young Frenchman. And, strangely enough, the little boy Francis, who had seized Lafayette’s hand on that June night in 1777, was later to try to rescue his hero from a prison in Europe.