friend." And when he would get back home from one of his trips, the
neighbors would gather to hear from his own lips about what he had done
and said. He was still the unaffected countryman, seemingly careless,
happy and indolent. It was on the occasion of one of these family
gatherings that a contemporary saw him and wrote: "In mock complaint he
exclaimed, 'How can I play the fiddle with two babies on each knee and
three on my back!'"

So the years went by in work, play and gradually widening fame. Patrick
Henry grew with his work--the years gave him dignity--gradually the
thought of his heart 'graved its lines upon his face. The mouth became
firm and the entire look of the man was that of earnest resolution. Fate
was pushing him on. What once was only whispered, he had voiced in
trumpet tones; the thought of liberty was being openly expressed even in
pulpits.

He had been returned to the Legislature, was a member of the Continental
Congress, and rode horseback side by side with Washington and Pendleton
to Philadelphia, as told at length in Washington's diary.

In his utterances he was a little less fiery, but in his heart,
everybody who knew him at all realized that there dwelt the thought of
liberty for the Colonies. John Adams wrote to Abigail that Patrick Henry
looked like a Quaker preacher turned Presbyterian.

A year later came what has been rightly called the third great speech of
Henry's life, the speech at the Revolutionary Convention at Richmond.
Good people often expect to hear oratory at a banquet, a lyceum lecture,
or in a Sunday sermon; but oratory is neither lecture, talk, harangue,
declamation nor preaching. Of course we say that the great speech is the
one that has been given many times, but the fact is, the great speech is
never given but once.

The time is ripe--the hour arrives--mighty issues tremble in the
balances. The auditors are not there to be amused nor instructed--they
have not stopped at the box-office and paid good money to have their
senses alternately lulled and titillated. No! The question is that of
liberty or bondage, life or death--passion is in the saddle--hate and
prejudice are sweeping events into a maelstrom--and now is the time for
oratory! Such occasions are as rare as the birth of stars. A man stands
before you--it is no time for fine phrasing--no time for pose or
platitude. Self-consciousness is swallowed up in purpose. He is as calm
as the waters above the Rapids of Niag