"Who is Governor Burnet, that he should want to see me?" responded Benjamin in surprise. One governor had been after him, and now that another was seeking his patronage was almost too much to believe. "Governor of New York," answered the captain. "I had some business with him, and I happened to say that a passenger on board my sloop had a large quantity of books with him; and this interested him so much that he wanted I should bring you to his house." "I will go," replied Benjamin; "and I must go at once if I go at all." They posted off, Benjamin querying on the way whether the governor of New York would prove as friendly to him as the governor of Pennsylvania. It was a pleasant call he had upon the governor. This dignitary gave him a cordial welcome, took him into his library, conversed with him about books and authors, complimented him for his love of learning and his evident high aims, and invited him to call whenever he should visit New York. Benjamin began to think that governors had a particular passion for him; and what little vanity he possessed became inflated. Many years thereafter, referring to the experience, he said: "This was the second governor who had done me the honor to take notice of me; and, for a poor boy like me, it was very pleasing." If he had been as foolish as some youth, and some men, too, he would have concluded that it pays to run away, since the only boy that two governors were known to patronize especially was a runaway. But we repeat what we have said before, that Benjamin, the wise son, never concluded that it pays to run away from home. He met with some pleasant experiences, but they came, not through his runaway qualities, but through his aspiring and noble aims. Collins was not too drunk to understand that Benjamin went to see the governor by invitation, and he was on tiptoe to learn what it all meant. "Been to see the governor, hey?" he said. "Yes; and I should have taken you if you had not been drunk." "Good on you, Ben; you'll be governor yourself yet." And John laughed at his own suggestion as only a silly drinker will. "_You_ will not, John, unless you change your course. I have a mind to leave you here in New York; then I shall not be disgraced by you in Philadelphia. If you can't keep sober for your own sake nor mine, I want nothing more to do with you." This was a revelation to John. He had not dreamed of being left penniless and friendless in New York. So he was ready to make promises of the most flattering kind, in order to proceed with Benjamin to Philadelphia. "But you promised me as squarely as possible in Boston that you would not drink any more," continued Benjamin. "Your promise is not worth any thing to me, when it is worth nothing to you; and it is not worth as much to you as a glass of brandy. I am tempted to leave you and all your truck in the sloop here in New York."