He paused and bowed his head.
"We are slaves," prompted the mother, who was listening with eager interest. Mrs. Diggs had heard her son "say his piece" so often that she had learned it herself, and now served as prompter. Patrick Henry continued:
"We are slaves.
The bright moon rises——"
"No, sun," interrupted his mother.
"The bright sun rises in the East and lights
A race of slaves. He sets—and the—last thing"—
The young orator was again off the track.
"And his last beam falls on a slave," again the fond mother prompted.