“By the request of Colonel Gibson I waited on the Marquis de La Fayette. The Colonel furnished me with a letter of introduction, and his compliments, with inquiries respecting the Marquis’ health. I was received by this nobleman in a polite and affable manner. He is just recovering from a fever, and is in his chair of convalescence. He is nearly six feet high, large, but not corpulent, being not more than twenty-two years of age. He is not very elegant in his form, his shoulders being broad and high, nor is there a perfect symmetry in his features; his forehead is remarkably high, his nose large and long, eyebrows prominent and projecting over a fine animated hazel eye. His countenance is interesting and impressive. He converses in broken English, and displays the manners and address of an accomplished gentleman.” A vessel called the _Alliance_ had been furnished La Fayette for his voyage to France. On January 11, 1779, he penned these farewell lines to Washington, written on board the _Alliance_:— “Farewell, my dear General. I hope your French friend will ever be dear to you. I hope I shall soon see you again, and tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the coast you inhabit, and with what affection and respect I am forever, my dear General, your respectful and sincere friend, LA FAYETTE.” But notwithstanding the face of the young marquis was thus set homeward, it was not all smooth sailing. Terrible storms tossed the little vessel to and fro, and for a time it seemed as though the huge waves would engulf the frigate. The main top-mast was blown away, the vessel rolled upon the heavy swells, apparently at the mercy of the tempest, while the dashing billows broke over the dismantled craft, which was soon half filled with water, and seemed doomed to destruction. But the darkness of the stormy night was followed by the radiance of a calm and lovely morning. The golden sunshine flooded the surface of the ocean, and the _Alliance_ sailed safely on her homeward way. But storms were not the only dangers which beset the path of La Fayette. A mutinous plot was formed among the sailors, and only the promptness and energy of the marquis, in ordering the arrest of thirty-one of the mutineers, and placing them in irons, so awed the others that tranquillity was secured. With what inexpressible eagerness La Fayette must have turned to watch the first glimpse of his beloved land—that land where dwelt his idolized wife and little babe whose eyes had never yet rested on its father’s face. His fame had gone before him, and his name was known and spoken with pride and honor in every city and hamlet of his native country. La Fayette landed at Brest in February. His daughter thus describes her mother’s ecstasy at this longed-for meeting:— “The intensity of my mother’s joy was beyond all expression.