ars were to pass before he was suddenly to spread out
strong, sinewy wings and soar to the ether.

Patrick Henry caused his parents more trouble and anxiety than all the
rest of the family combined. Patrick and culture had nothing in common.
As a youngster he roamed the woods, bare of foot and bare of head, his
only garments a shirt and trousers held in place by a single gallus. He
was indolent, dreamy, procrastinating, frolicsome, with a beautiful
aversion to books, and a fondness for fishing that was carried to the
limit. The boy's mother didn't worry very much about the youngster, but
the father had spells when he took the matter to the Lord in prayer, and
afterward, growing impatient of an answer, fell to and used the taws
without mercy. John Henry probably did this as much to relieve his own
feelings as for the good of the boy, but doubtless he did not reason
quite that far.

Patrick nursed his black-and-blue spots and fell back on his flute for
solace.

After one such seance, when he was twelve years of age, he disappeared
with a colored boy about his own age. They took a shotgun,
fishing-tackle and a violin. They were gone three weeks, during which
time Patrick had not been out of his clothes, nor once washed his face.
They had slept out under the sky by campfires. The smell of smoke was
surely on his garments, and his parents were put to their wits to
distinguish between the bond and the free.

Had Patrick been an only child he would have driven his mother into
hysteria and his father to the flowing bowl (I trust I use the right
expression). If not this, then it would have been because the fond
parents had found peace by transforming their son into a Little Lord
Fauntleroy. Nature shows great wisdom in sending the young in
litters--they educate each other, and so divide the time of the mother
that attention to the individual is limited to the actual needs. Too
much interference with children is a grave mistake.

Patrick Henry quit school at fifteen, with a love for 'rithmetic--it was
such a fine puzzle--and an equal regard for history--history was a lot
o' good stories. For two years he rode wild horses, tramped the woods
with rod and gun, and played the violin at country dances.

Another spasm of fear, chagrin and discouragement sweeping over the
father, on account of the indifference and profligacy of his son, he
decided to try the youth in trade, and if this failed, to let him go to
the devil. So a sto