would be far better, they thought, to petition the king to do them justice, than to tell him in plain words that they would not obey him,

When Patrick Henry reached Williamsburg he found that this was the general way of thinking. Scarcely a single member of the Burgesses was ready to act promptly. They still hoped for a "redress of grievances," as it was called, by sending a petition to the king; but Patrick Henry had made up his mind that this would do no good. He therefore determined to act boldly, and soon after the House assembled he rose to address them.

They were a grave and imposing body, very different from the plain countrymen whom he was accustomed to in Hanover. Their dress and appearance indicated their rank in society. On all sides were powdered heads and ruffled shirts, and faces full of dignity. They were almost all large landholders, accustomed to be treated with the highest respect; and the contrast between them and Patrick Henry was very striking. He was as rough-looking as ever. His hair was unpowdered, and he wore a faded old coat, leather breeches, and yarn stockings. In short, he was exactly the same awkward-looking countryman as before.

As he rose in his place, the Burgesses turned their heads and looked at him. They scarcely knew his name, and no doubt thought it presumptuous in this plainly dressed young man to be taking the lead, and telling older persons what was best to be done. But Patrick Henry paid no attention to their looks of surprise. He had made up his mind to say what he had to say, and give his own opinion at least on the subject of the Stamp Act. He spoke in a quiet tone, and was listened to in deep silence. The Stamp Act was illegal, and oppressive to Virginia, he said; and he therefore moved that the House of Bur

gesses should pass the resolutions he was about to read to them. He then read the resolutions, which he had written on a blank leaf torn out of an old law-book. The tone of them was respectful, but there was no doubt what they meant, as the last of them declared that no one had the right to tax Virginia but the Virginia Burgesses.

The resolutions were looked upon as violent and very imprudent. They, in fact, asserted that the king had no right to levy taxes in Virginia, which was very much like rebellion; and several speakers at once rose, and denounced them as highly injudicious. There was a violent excitement, as one after another spoke against the resolutions, and then Patrick Henry rose to defend them.

His whole appearance had changed, and the Burgesses soon found that the poorly clad young countryman was a matchless speaker, and superior to all of them. His head was carried erect, and his stooping figure grew as straight as an arrow. His eye flashed, and his voice rolled through the hall like thunder. He was fully aroused, and denounced England in terms of the bitterest insult. Why were English people better than Virginians? he asked. What right had the Parliament to tyrannize over the colonies? And as to the King of England, he had better look to his life.

"Cæsar had his Brutus," he exclaimed, "Charles the First his Cromwell, and George the Third-"

"Treason!" came from every part of the hall; but Henry did not shrink.

"And George the Third may profit by their example!" he added. "If this be treason, make the most

of it!"

He took his seat after uttering these brave words, in the midst of great excitement. It was plain that his speech had made a strong impression. Speech after

speech was made-some in favor of, and some opposed to the resolutions; but at last, it was seen that Henry's wonderful eloquence had swept away everything. When the House was called upon to say whether the resolutions should pass or not, they were passed-the last and most important of them, by a single vote.

The Burgesses then adjourned in the midst of general excitement. One of them rushed out, declaring that he would have given five hundred guineas for a single vote, in order to defeat the resolutions. But the people were delighted to hear that they had passed. As Henry pushed through the crowd, a plain countryman slapped him on the shoulder, and exclaimed,

"Stick to us, old fellow, or we are gone!"

IV.

I ought not to leave the subject of the life of Patrick Henry without saying a few words of what was looked upon as the greatest of all his speeches. This was made. at St. John's Church, in the city of Richmond, and rang like the blast of a trumpet through all the colonies, summoning them to resistance.

It was now the spring of 1775, and the whole country was drifting toward revolution. What Patrick Henry had said against the Stamp Act proved like seed sown in the ground. It lay there for ten years, but at last it began to sprout, and now, in the year 1775, it appeared above the ground. England seemed determined to make the colonies submit to her. Soldiers were sent to Boston, and as Virginia took part with Massachusetts, the governor drove the Burgesses away from Williamsburg. To this they paid no attention, however. As they could not meet there, they determined to assemble in Richmond. A convention of the Virginia leaders was accordingly