But the seventh day of May, 1778, was not a day of gloom at Valley Forge. Spring had fairly opened, and the forest began to don its new attire for a fresh summer campaign. At nine o’clock in the morning, the entire army was on parade, with drums beating, colors flying and salutes echoing among the hills. The brigades were steady in their ranks. No brilliant uniforms were conspicuous anywhere, and many had neither coats nor shoes. The pomp and circumstance of war were missing. There was no display of gold lace, or finery of any kind. Strongly marked faces and tough muscles showed the fixedness of purpose of these troops. But it was an occasion of rare interest. This American army was in line, for the reception of a visitor from over the sea. The visitor was a herald sent by Louis XVI., King of France, to announce to Washington and the American people that an armed alliance between France and the United States of America had been consummated. The French frigate _Le Sensible_ had landed at Falmouth (Portland), Me., with this messenger, and the American army was drawn up in battle array to receive his message. The chaplain of each brigade proclaimed the treaty and read its terms. It was one of those occasions, not infrequent during the war, and habitual to Washington throughout his mature life, when he had no way through which to express his deepest anxieties or profoundest sense of gratitude, other than that of communion with God. And now, the listening army was called upon to unite in one “grand thanksgiving to Almighty God that He had given to America this friend.” The scene that followed can never be described. It can only be imagined and felt. Huzzas for the King of France mingled with shouts for Washington, whose face, as described by one, “shone as did that of Moses, when he descended from the Mount.” Caps were tossed high in air. Hand-shaking, leaping, clapping of hands, and every homely sign of joy and confident expectation, followed. Washington had dismounted. He stood with folded arms—calm, serene, majestic, silent. For several moments the whole army stood, awaiting his action. He remounted his horse, and a single word to his assembled staff quickly ran through the lines—that the Commander-in-Chief proposed that all should speak together, by the soldier’s method, through powder. No matter if powder were scarce. Every cannon, wherever mounted about the long circuit of intrenchments, roared; and the hills carried the echoes to British headquarters. Throughout the lines of division and brigade, to the remotest picket post, a running fire at will closed with one grand volley; and then the camp of Valley Forge resumed the “business” of preparing for battle.