Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1888-07-05
A GREAT GRAFTON.
Patrick Henry's Historical
Speech in Philadel-
phia
That Secured the Signatures to the Dec
laration Of American Inde-
pendenoe.

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WSN@@ @ l776. It was at this
..1-gsH" session that Patrick
Henry, the fiery ora
tor, made his immortal address, and
which carried his hearers along the
path of conviction until every one stood
ready to sacrifice all that the colonies
might be free from the hated yoke of
England. The Journal says of this
famous gathering:
1t is the old hall of Philadelphia, on
July 4, 1776. There is silence in this
hall every face is stamped with deep
and awful responsibility
Why turns every glance to that door
Why is it so terribly still?
The committee of three who have
been out all night planning a parch-
ment are about to appear. That parch-
ment, with the signatures of these
men, written with the pen lying on
yonder table, may either make the world
free, or stretch these necks ON the glib
bet yonder in potters field, or nail
these heads to the doorposts of these
halls. That was the time for solemn
faces and deep silence.
At last, bark The door opens, the
committee appears. Who are these men
who come walking on to John Hancock's
chair?
The tall man, with sharp features, the
bold brow and sand-hued hair, holding
the parchment, is the Virginia farmer,
Thomas jefferson. The stout-built
man, with resolute look and sparkling
eye-that is Boston man, one John
Adams. And the calm-faced man with
hair dropping in thick curls to his
shoulders, the one dressed in n plain coat
and such odious homemade blue stock
ings-that is a Philadelphia printer, one
Benjamin Franklin.
The three advance to the table. The
parchment is laid there. Shall it be
signed or not?
Then eusues high debate; then all
the faint-hearted cringe in corners,
while Thomas Jefferson speaks out his
few bold worls, and John Adams pours
out his whole soul.
The soft-toned voice of Charles Car
roll is heard undulating in syllables of
deep music.
But still there is doubt, and that
pale-faced man shrinking in one corner
speaks out something about axes,
scaffolds, and a--gibbet.
"Gibbetp echoed fierce bold tone,
that startled men from their seats-and
look yonder, tall slender form rises,
dressed, although it is summer tina, in
faded red cloak. Look how his white
hand trembles, as it stretches slowly
out; how that dark eye burns, while
his words ring through the hall. 1t is
Virginia's fiery orator, Patrick Henry.
Gibbet! They may stretch our necks
on all the gibbets in the land; they may
turn every rock into a scaffold, every
tree into a gallows, every home into a
grave, and yet the words of that parch-
ment can never die.
They may pour blood upon thou
sand scaffolds, and yet from every drop
that dyes the ak, or drops on the saw
dust of the block, a new martyr of free
dom will spring into birth
The British King may blot out the
stars of God from his sky, but he can
not blot out the words written on the
parchment there. The works of God
may perish; His word, never!
These words will go forth to the
world when our bones are dust. To
the slave in bondage they will speak
hope; to the mechanic in his workshop,
| freedom; to the coward kings these
words will speak, but not in tones OF
hattery. They will speak like the
flaming syllables on Belshazzar's wall
"The days of pride and glory are num-
beredl The days of judgment draw
nearp
Yes, that parchment will speak to
kings in language sad and terrible as
the trumpet of the archangel. You
have trampled on the rights of man
kind long enough. At last, the voice
of human woe has pierced the ear oi
God, and called his Judgment down.
You have waded on the throne through
seas of blood; you have trampled on
the necks of millions; you have turned
the poor mans sweat and blood into
robes for your delicate forms; into
crowns for your anointed brows. Now
kingsl Now, purpled hangmen of the
worldl For you comes the day of axes
and gibbets and scaffolds; for you the
wrath of man; for you the lightning
of God.
Lookl How the light Of your palaces
on fire flashes up into the midnigh
airl Now, purpled hangmen Of the
world, turn and beg for mercy Wher,
will you find it? Not from God, fol
you have blasphemed His lawsl No
from the people, for you stand baptized
in their bloodl Here you turn, anC
lol a gibbetl There, and a scaffolC
stares you in the face All around yo,
-death--but nowhere pity Now, ex
ecutioners of the human race, knee
down; yes, kneel down on the sawdus
of the scaffold; lay your purpled head
upon the block; bless the ak as it fall
the ak sharpened for the hangman'
neck.
Such is the message of the declara
ton of the kings of the world. An'
shall we falter now? And shal
we start back appalled, when on
free people press the very threshold o
freedom? Do you see quailing face
around you when our wives have bcei
butchered; when the hearthstones O
our land are red with the blood of lii
tie children? What Are ther
shrinking hearts or faltering voice
here, when the very dead of our battle
fields arise and call upon us to sig
that parchment or be accursed?
Signl III the next moment the gil
bets rope is around your neck. Sign
II the next moment this hall rings wit