of suggestion which followed, are models, in their way, of what such letters ought always to be.  They were perfectly adapted to satisfy the etiquette and the love of good manners of the French, and yet there was not a trace of anything like servility, or of an effusive gratitude which outran the favors granted.  They combined stately courtesy with simple dignity, and are phrased with a sober grace which shows the thoroughly strong man, as capable to turn a sentence, if need be, as to rally retreating soldiers in the face of the enemy.

In this first meeting of the allies nothing happened fortunately.  D’Estaing had had a long passage, and was too late to cut off Lord Howe at the Delaware.  Then he turned to New York, and was too late there, and found further that he could not get his ships over the bar.  Hence more delays, so that he was late again in getting to Newport, where he was to unite with Sullivan in driving the British from Rhode Island, as Washington had planned, in case of failure at New York, while the French were still hovering on the coast.  When D’Estaing finally reached Newport, there was still another delay of ten days, and then, just as he and Sullivan were preparing to attack, Lord Howe, with his squadron reinforced, appeared off the harbor.  Promising to return, D’Estaing sailed out to give the enemy battle, and after much manoeuvring both fleets were driven off by a severe storm, and D’Estaing came back only to tell Sullivan that he must go to Boston at once to refit.  Then came the protest addressed to the Count and signed by all the American officers; then the departure of D’Estaing, and an indiscreet proclamation to the troops by Sullivan, reflecting on the conduct of the allies.

When D’Estaing had actually gone, and the Americans were obliged to retreat, there was much grumbling in all directions, and it looked as if the first result of the alliance was to be a very pretty quarrel.  It was a bad and awkward business.  Congress had the good sense to suppress the protest of the officers, and Washington, disappointed, but perhaps not wholly surprised, set himself to work to put matters right.  It was no easy task to soothe the French, on the one hand, who were naturally aggrieved at the utterances of the American officers and at the popular feeling, and on the other to calm his own people, who were, not without reason, both disappointed and provoked.  To Sullivan, fuming with wrath, he wrote:  “Should the expedition fail through the abandonment of the French fleet, the officers concerned will be apt to complain loudly.  But prudence dictates that we should put the best face upon the matter, and to the world attribute the removal to Boston to necessity.  The reasons are too obvious to need explaining.”  And again, a few days later:  “First impressions, you know, are generally longest remembered, and will serve to fix in a great degree our national character among the French.  In our conduct towards them