This was the verdict of the people of Hanover Court House, Virginia, when Patrick Henry was a young man. When he was but a youth he had married the tavern-keeper’s daughter. He had tried farming and failed, people said, because he was “too lazy to do anything but go a-fishing.” But he was a great reader and had studied law in a random, listless way. The door of opportunity opened one day before this young man of whom the neighbors had so little good to say. There was a case in court called “the Parsons’ Cause.” This famous lawsuit arose in the following way: An old law required each church in Virginia to pay its minister sixteen thousand pounds of tobacco as his yearly salary. Later the legislature of Virginia passed another law which permitted each parish to pay its minister a smaller salary in money. The King of England set this law aside and then the “parsons,” as the clergy were called, brought a lawsuit to collect the unpaid parts of their salaries. Young Patrick Henry’s sympathies were with the men who were sued and he offered his services in their defense. When the people of Hanover Court House heard of this, they laughed as if it were a huge joke. [Illustration: PATRICK HENRY DELIVERING HIS CELEBRATED SPEECH, MAY, 1765.] “The good-for-nothing! What can _he_ do, with his low, tavern talk?” they asked in scorn. “His stories may do for a bar-room, but for such a fellow to speak in such an important case will be an insult to the court.” The courtroom was well filled on the day of the trial. The opposing lawyers had promised to make short work of Patrick Henry, and teach him a lesson he would not soon forget. There was a strange stillness when the young man rose to speak. At first he seemed unable to control his voice, and some of those present nudged each other and whispered: “He’s going to break down! I told you so. He ought to have known better than attempt a big case like this.” Then young Henry’s will seemed to come to his rescue. He straightened up. His face flushed eagerly. His eyes blazed with indignation. His words soon came in a torrent of eloquence. He declared that the people of Virginia had the right to make their own laws and that if the King interfered he was no longer the father of his people, but a tyrant whom they need not obey. The jury, carried away by the young lawyer’s fiery appeal, decided that the parsons should have only one penny more money. The people who had come to sneer now began to cheer. They carried the young lawyer out of the courthouse on their shoulders. That success showed that the “ne’er-do-well” was really a great lawyer. After that Patrick Henry spent his time in his law office instead of going fishing or loafing about the hotel. He studied to improve his mind, and practiced in correcting his errors of speech, while learning to make good use of his new-found gift of speaking in public.