some reflection, and with
a convulsive twitch or two at her apron string, she said, "Well, then,
if that's Patrick Henry, it must be all right. Come in, and ye shall
have the best I have in the house."[325]

The pitiless tongue of tradition does not stop here, but proceeds to
narrate other alleged experiences of this our noble, though somewhat
disconcerted, Patrick. Arrived at last in Staunton, and walking
through its reassuring streets, he is said to have met one Colonel
William Lewis, to whom the face of the orator was then unknown; and to
have told to this stranger the story of the flight of the legislature
from Albemarle. "If Patrick Henry had been in Albemarle," was the
stranger's comment, "the British dragoons never would have passed over
the Rivanna River."[326]

The tongue of tradition, at last grown quite reckless, perhaps, of
its own credit, still further relates that even at Staunton these
illustrious fugitives did not feel entirely sure that they were beyond
the reach of Tarleton's men. A few nights after their arrival there,
as the story runs, upon some sudden alarm, several of them sprang from
their beds, and, imperfectly clapping on their clothes, fled out of
the town, and took refuge at the plantation of one Colonel George
Moffett, near which, they had been told, was a cave in which they
might the more effectually conceal themselves. Mrs. Moffett, though
not knowing the names of these flitting Solons, yet received them with
true Virginian hospitality: but the next morning, at breakfast, she
made the unlucky remark that there was one member of the legislature
who certainly would not have run from the enemy. "Who is he?" was then
asked. Her reply was, "Patrick Henry." At that moment a gentleman of
the party, himself possessed of but one boot, was observed to blush
considerably. Furthermore, as soon as possible after breakfast, these
imperiled legislators departed in search of the cave; shortly after
which a negro from Staunton rode up, carrying in his hand a solitary
boot, and inquiring earnestly for Patrick Henry. In that way, as the
modern reporter of this very debatable tradition unkindly adds, the
admiring Mrs. Moffett ascertained who it was that the boot fitted; and
he further suggests that, whatever Mrs. Moffett's emotions were at
that time, those of Patrick must have been, "Give me liberty, but not
death."[327]

Passing by these whimsical tales, we have now to add that the
legislature, having on