"At the same time he put spurs to his own beast, hoping for a race. Jefferson kept his seat, reined in his restive steed, and put an equally effective rein upon his own temper. "The jockey wondered; but impudently turned it off with a laugh, and still keeping by the side of his new acquaintance, began talking politics. Being a staunch Federalist, he commenced to launch out against 'Long Tom,' and the policy of his administration. "Jefferson took his part in the conversation, and urged some things in reply. "Meanwhile they had ridden into the city, and were making their way along Pennsylvania avenue. At length they came opposite the gate of the presidential mansion. "Here Mr. Jefferson reined up, and courteously invited the man to enter. "The jockey raised his eye-brows, and asked-- "'Why, do you live here?' "'Yes,' was the simple reply. "'Why, stranger, what the deuce might be your name?' "'My name is Thomas Jefferson.' "Even the jockey's brass turned pale--when, putting spurs to his nag, he exclaimed-- "'And my name is Richard Jones, and I'm ok!' "Saying which, he dashed up the avenue at double quick time, while the President looked after him with a smile, and then rode into the gate." JEFFERSON AND PATRICK HENRY. Patrick Henry was an early friend and companion of Jefferson. He was a jovial young fellow noted for mimicry, practical jokes, fiddling and dancing. Jefferson's holidays were sometimes spent with Henry, and the two together would go off on hunting excursions of which each was passionately fond. Both were swift of foot and sound of wind. Deer, turkey, foxes and other game were eagerly pursued. Jefferson looked upon Patrick Henry as the moving spirit of all the fun of the younger circle, and had not the faintest idea of the wonderful talents that lay latent in his companion's mind. And, Henry too, did not see in the slender, freckled, sandy-haired Jefferson, the coming man who was to be united with him in some of the most stirring and important events in American history. Jefferson did not realize that this rustic youngster, careless of dress, and apparently thoughtless in manner, and sometimes, to all appearance, so unconcerned that he was taken by some to be an idiot, was to be the flaming tongue of a coming Revolution. Henry did not dream that this fiddling boy, Jefferson, was to be the potent pen of a Declaration which was to emancipate a hemisphere.