A hundred years ago New York City proper extended northward only as far as the present post-office, and during the Revolution a line of earthworks was thrown across the island at that point to defend it against assault from the north. The British sentinels at these barriers were not to give up their posts to the Americans until one o’clock on this eventful Evacuation Day, and Cousin Ned, therefore, could not well see how they could pass the sentries. But young Master Clinton, a bright, curly-haired boy of thirteen, said confidently: “Oh, that’s easily done.” And then, with a knowledge of the highways and byways which many rambles through the dear old town had given him, he unfolded his plan. “See here,” he said; “we’ll turn down the Monument lane, just below us, cut across through General Mortier’s woods to Mr. Nicholas Bayard’s, and so on to the Ranelagh Gardens. From there we can easily get over to the Broad Way and the Murray Street barrier before General Knox gets to the Fresh Water, where he has been ordered to halt until one o’clock. When the guard at the barrier knows that we have the little Baron of Phillipsbourg with us, and has handled the two York sixpences you will give him, of course he’ll let us pass. So, don’t you see, we can fix this little boy all right, and, better yet, can see King George’s men go out and our troops come in, and make just a splendid day of it.” Dolly, fully alive to these glorious possibilities, clapped her hands delightedly. “What a brain the boy has!” said young Livingston. “Keep on, my son,” he said patronizingly, “and you’ll make a great man yet.” “So I mean to be,” said De Witt Clinton cheerily, and then, heading the little group, he followed out the route he had proposed. Ere long the barriers were safely passed, Cousin Ned was two York sixpences out of pocket, and the young people stood within the British lines. “And now, where may we find your grandfather, little one?” Cousin Ned inquired, as they halted on the Broad Way beneath one of the tall poplars that lined that old-time street. The little Phillipse could not well reply. The noise and confusion that filled the city had well-nigh turned his head. For what with the departing English troops, the disconsolate loyalist refugees hurrying for transportation to distant English ports, and the zealous citizens who were making great preparations to welcome the incoming soldiers of the Congress, the streets of the little city were full of bustle and excitement. The boy said his grandfather might be at the fort; he might be at the King’s Arms Tavern, near Stone Street; he might be--he _would_ be--hunting for him.