e joy of such a
meeting was worth a thousand risks and efforts.

His first step was to get leave of absence and General Washington's
permission to enter New York. The former was quickly obtained, the
latter less so. But if he failed to demonstrate to the commander the
possible profit of his secretly visiting the enemy's town, he
convinced him that the entrance was not too difficult to one who knew
the land so well, and who could so easily find concealment.
Sympathising with Philip's private motive in the case, trusting him
implicitly, and crediting his ability to take care of himself in even
so perilous a matter, Washington finally gave consent.

Philip rode in proper manner from the rebel camp, bound apparently
Southward, as if perchance he bore despatches to the rebel civil
authorities at Philadelphia. Once out of observation, he concealed his
uniform cap and outer coat, and provided himself at a New Jersey
village with an ordinary felt hat, and a plain dark overcoat. He then
turned from the Southward road, circled widely about the rebel camp,
and arrived at a point some distance north of it. Here, in a
hospitable farmhouse, he passed the night. The next day, he rode
Eastward for the Hudson River, crossing undiscovered the scanty,
ill-patrolled line of rebel outposts, and for the most part refraining
from use of the main roads, deserted as these were. By woods and
by-ways, he proceeded as best the snow-covered state of the country
allowed. 'Twas near dusk on the second day, when he came out upon the
wooded heights that looked coldly down upon the Hudson a few miles
above the spot opposite the town of New York.

He looked across the river and Southeastward, knowing that beyond the
low hills and the woods lay the town, and that in the town was
Margaret. Then he rode back from the crest of the cliff till he came
to the head of a ravine. Down this he led his beast, arriving finally
at the narrow strip of river-bank at the cliff's foot. He followed
this some distance Southward, still leading the horse. 'Twas not yet
so dark that he could not make out a British sloop-of-war, and further
down the river the less distinct outline of a frigate, serving as
sentinels and protectors of this approach to the town. From these he
was concealed by the bushes that grew at the river's edge.

At last he turned into the mouth of a second ravine, and, rounding a
sharp side-spur of the interrupted cliff, came upon a log hut built
upon a