"Yes," said Patrick; "but that's the other kind. You see, I've been studying law, and I want to be admitted to practise."
It took several minutes for the man who was to write the Declaration of Independence to get it through his head that the matter wasn't a joke. Then he conducted the lean, lank, rawboned rustic into the presence of the judges. There were four of these men: Wythe, Pendleton, Peyton and John Randolph. These men were all to be colleagues of the bumpkin at the First Continental Congress at Philadelphia, but that lay in the misty future.
They looked at the candidate in surprise; two of them laughed and two looked needlessly solemn. However, after some little parley, they consented to examine the clown as to his fitness to practise law.
In answer to the first question as to how long he had studied, his reply was, "About six weeks."
One biographer says six months, and still another, with anxious intent to prove the excellence of his man, says six years.
We had better take Jefferson's word—"Patrick Henry's reply was six weeks." As much as to say: "What difference is it about how long I have studied? You are here to find out how much I know. There are men who can get more in six weeks than others can in six years—I may be one of these."
The easy indifference of the fellow was sublime. But he did know a little law, and he also knew a deal of history. The main thing against him was his unkempt appearance. After some hesitation the judges gave the required certificate, with a little lecture on the side concerning the beauties of etiquette and right attire as an adjunct to excellence in the learned professions.
Young Mr. Jefferson didn't wait to witness the examination of his friend—it was too painful—and besides he did not wish to be around so as to get any of the blame when the prayer for admission was denied.
So Patrick had to find Thomas. "I've got it!" said Patrick, and smiled grimly as he tapped his breast-pocket where the certificate was safely stowed.
Then he mounted his lean, dun horse and rode away, disappearing into the forest.