I was not in the least offended at being thus associated with the negroes, for they mingled in most of the amusements of us young people; but I did not quite so well like to be ranked with the children, now I was fourteen, and on my way to college. Notwithstanding this, I did not fail to betray an interest in what was to come next, by my countenance. As for my father, he did not hesitate about asking an explanation. “The news came in this morning, by a fast-sailing sloop, that the Patroon of Albany is on his way to New York, in his coach-and-four, and with two out-riders, and that he may be expected to reach town in the course of to-morrow. Several of my acquaintances have consented to let their children go out a little way into the country, to see him come in; and, as for the blacks, you know, it is just as well to give them _permission_ to be of the party, as half of them would otherwise go without asking it.” “This will be a capital opportunity to let Corny see a little of the world,” cried my father, “and I would not have him miss it on any account. Besides, it is useful to teach young people early, the profitable lesson of honouring their superiors and seniors.” “In that sense it may do,” growled my uncle, who, though so much of a latitudinarian in his political opinions never failed to inculcate all useful and necessary maxims for private life; “the Patroon of Albany being one of the most respectable and affluent of all our gentry. I have no objections to Corny's going to see that sight; and, I hope, my dear, you will let both Pompey and Caesar be of the party. It won't hurt the fellows to see the manner in which the Patroon has his carriage kept and horses groomed.”