Europe
In 1893 I was married to Miss Margaret James Murray, a native of
Mississippi, and a graduate of Fisk University, in Nashville, Tenn.,
who had come to Tuskegee as a teacher several years before, and at the
time we were married was filling the position of Lady Principal. Not
only is Mrs. Washington completely one with me in the work directly
connected with the school, relieving me of many burdens and
perplexities, but aside from her work on the school grounds, she
carries on a mothers’ meeting in the town of Tuskegee, and a plantation
work among the women, children, and men who live in a settlement
connected with a large plantation about eight miles from Tuskegee. Both
the mothers’ meeting and the plantation work are carried on, not only
with a view to helping those who are directly reached, but also for the
purpose of furnishing object-lessons in these two kinds of work that
may be followed by our students when they go out into the world for
their own life-work.
Aside from these two enterprises, Mrs. Washington is also largely
responsible for a woman’s club at the school which brings together,
twice a month, the women who live on the school grounds and those who
live near, for the discussion of some important topic. She is also the
President of what is known as the Federation of Southern Coloured
Women’s Clubs, and is Chairman of the Executive Committee of the
National Federation of Coloured Women’s Clubs.
Portia, the oldest of my three children, has learned dressmaking. She
has unusual ability in instrumental music. Aside from her studies at
Tuskegee, she has already begun to teach there.
Booker Taliaferro is my next oldest child. Young as he is, he has
already nearly mastered the brickmason’s trade. He began working at
this trade when he was quite small, dividing his time between this and
class work; and he has developed great skill in the trade and a
fondness for it. He says that he is going to be an architect and
brickmason. One of the most satisfactory letters that I have ever
received from any one came to me from Booker last summer. When I left
home for the summer, I told him that he must work at his trade half of
each day, and that the other half of the day he could spend as he
pleased. When I had been away from home two weeks, I received the
following letter from him:
Tuskegee, Alabama.
My dear Papa: Before you left home you told me to work at my trade half
of each day. I like my work so much that I want to work at my trade all
day. Besides, I want to earn all the money I can, so that when I go to
another school I shall have money to pay my expenses.
Your son,
Booker.
My youngest child, Ernest Davidson Washington, says that he is going to
be a physician. In addition to going to school, where he studies books
and has manual training, he regularly spends a portion of his time in
the office of our resident physician, and has already learned to do
many of the duties which pertain to a doctor’s office.
The thing in my life which brings me the keenest regret is that my work
in connection with public affairs keeps me for so much of the time away
from my family, where, of all places in the world, I delight to be. I
always envy the individual whose life-work is so laid that he can spend
his evenings at home. I have sometimes thought that people who have
this rare privilege do not appreciate it as they should. It is such a
rest and relief to get away from crowds of people, and handshaking, and
travelling, to get home, even if it be for but a very brief while.
Another thing at Tuskegee out of which I get a great deal of pleasure
and satisfaction is in the meeting with our students, and teachers, and
their families, in the chapel for devotional exercises every evening at
half-past eight, the last thing before retiring for the night. It is an
inspiring sight when one stands on the platform there and sees before
him eleven or twelve hundred earnest young men and women; and one
cannot but feel that it is a privilege to help to guide them to a
higher and more useful life.
In the spring of 1899 there came to me what I might describe as almost
the greatest surprise of my life. Some good ladies in Boston arranged a
public meeting in the interests of Tuskegee, to be held in the Hollis
Street Theatre. This meeting was attended by large numbers of the best
people of Boston, of both races. Bishop Lawrence presided. In addition
to an address made by myself, Mr. Paul Lawrence Dunbar read from his
poems, and Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois read an original sketch.
Some of those who attended this meeting noticed that I seemed unusually
tired, and some little time after the close of the meeting, one of the
ladies who had been interested in it asked me in a casual way if I had
ever been to Europe. I replied that I never had. She asked me if I had
ever thought of going, and I told her no; that it was something
entirely beyond me. This conversation soon passed out of my mind, but a
few days afterward I was informed that some friends in Boston,
including Mr. Francis J. Garrison, had raised a sum of money sufficient
to pay all the expenses of Mrs. Washington and myself during a three or
four months’ trip to Europe. It was added with emphasis that we _must_
go. A year previous to this Mr. Garrison had attempted to get me to
promise to go to Europe for a summer’s rest, with the understanding
that he would be responsible for raising the money among his friends
for the expenses of the trip. At that time such a journey seemed so
entirely foreign to anything that I should ever be able to undertake
that I did confess I did not give the matter very serious attention;
but later Mr. Garrison joined his efforts to those of the ladies whom I
have mentioned, and when their plans were made known to me Mr. Garrison
not only had the route mapped out, but had, I believe, selected the
steamer upon which we were to sail.
The whole thing was so sudden and so unexpected that I was completely
taken off my feet. I had been at work steadily for eighteen years in
connection with Tuskegee, and I had never thought of anything else but
ending my life in that way. Each day the school seemed to depend upon
me more largely for its daily expenses, and I told these Boston friends
that, while I thanked them sincerely for their thoughtfulness and
generosity, I could not go to Europe, for the reason that the school
could not live financially while I was absent. They then informed me
that Mr. Henry L. Higginson, and some other good friends who I know do
not want their names made public, were then raising a sum of money
which would be sufficient to keep the school in operation while I was
away. At this point I was compelled to surrender. Every avenue of
escape had been closed.
Deep down in my heart the whole thing seemed more like a dream than
like reality, and for a long time it was difficult for me to make
myself believe that I was actually going to Europe. I had been born and
largely reared in the lowest depths of slavery, ignorance, and poverty.
In my childhood I had suffered for want of a place to sleep, for lack
of food, clothing, and shelter. I had not had the privilege of sitting
down to a dining-table until I was quite well grown. Luxuries had
always seemed to me to be something meant for white people, not for my
race. I had always regarded Europe, and London, and Paris, much as I
regarded heaven. And now could it be that I was actually going to
Europe? Such thoughts as these were constantly with me.
Two other thoughts troubled me a good deal. I feared that people who
heard that Mrs. Washington and I were going to Europe might not know
all the circumstances, and might get the idea that we had become, as
some might say, “stuck up,” and were trying to “show off.” I recalled
that from my youth I had heard it said that too often, when people of
my race reached any degree of success, they were inclined to unduly
exalt themselves; to try and ape the wealthy, and in so doing to lose
their heads. The fear that people might think this of us haunted me a
good deal. Then, too, I could not see how my conscience would permit me
to spare the time from my work and be happy. It seemed mean and selfish
in me to be taking a vacation while others were at work, and while
there was so much that needed to be done. From the time I could
remember, I had always been at work, and I did not see how I could
spend three or four months in doing nothing. The fact was that I did
not know how to take a vacation.
Mrs. Washington had much the same difficulty in getting away, but she
was anxious to go because she thought that I needed the rest. There
were many important National questions bearing upon the life of the
race which were being agitated at that time, and this made it all the
harder for us to decide to go. We finally gave our Boston friends our
promise that we would go, and then they insisted that the date of our
departure be set as soon as possible. So we decided upon May 10. My
good friend Mr. Garrison kindly took charge of all the details
necessary for the success of the trip, and he, as well as other
friends, gave us a great number of letters of introduction to people in
France and England, and made other arrangements for our comfort and
convenience abroad. Good-bys were said at Tuskegee, and we were in New
York May 9, ready to sail the next day. Our daughter Portia, who was
then studying in South Framingham, Mass., came to New York to see us
off. Mr. Scott, my secretary, came with me to New York, in order that I
might clear up the last bit of business before I left. Other friends
also came to New York to see us off. Just before we went on board the
steamer another pleasant surprise came to us in the form of a letter
from two generous ladies, stating that they had decided to give us the
money with which to erect a new building to be used in properly housing
all our industries for girls at Tuskegee.
We were to sail on the Friesland, of the Red Star Line, and a beautiful
vessel she was. We went on board just before noon, the hour of sailing.
I had never before been on board a large ocean steamer, and the feeling
which took possession of me when I found myself there is rather hard to
describe. It was a feeling, I think, of awe mingled with delight. We
were agreeably surprised to find that the captain, as well as several
of the other officers, not only knew who we were, but was expecting us
and gave us a pleasant greeting. There were several passengers whom we
knew, including Senator Sewell, of New Jersey, and Edward Marshall, the
newspaper correspondent. I had just a little fear that we would not be
treated civilly by some of the passengers. This fear was based upon
what I had heard other people of my race, who had crossed the ocean,
say about unpleasant experiences in crossing the ocean in American
vessels. But in our case, from the captain down to the most humble
servant, we were treated with the greatest kindness. Nor was this
kindness confined to those who were connected with the steamer; it was
shown by all the passengers also. There were not a few Southern men and
women on board, and they were as cordial as those from other parts of
the country.
As soon as the last good-bys were said, and the steamer had cut loose
from the wharf, the load of care, anxiety, and responsibility which I
had carried for eighteen years began to lift itself from my shoulders
at the rate, it seemed to me, of a pound a minute. It was the first
time in all those years that I had felt, even in a measure, free from
care; and my feeling of relief it is hard to describe on paper. Added
to this was the delightful anticipation of being in Europe soon. It all
seemed more like a dream than like a reality.
Mr. Garrison had thoughtfully arranged to have us have one of the most
comfortable rooms on the ship. The second or third day out I began to
sleep, and I think that I slept at the rate of fifteen hours a day
during the remainder of the ten days’ passage. Then it was that I began
to understand how tired I really was. These long sleeps I kept up for a
month after we landed on the other side. It was such an unusual feeling
to wake up in the morning and realize that I had no engagements; did
not have to take a train at a certain hour; did not have an appointment
to meet some one, or to make an address, at a certain hour. How
different all this was from the experiences that I have been through
when travelling, when I have sometimes slept in three different beds in
a single night!
When Sunday came, the captain invited me to conduct the religious
services, but, not being a minister, I declined. The passengers,
however, began making requests that I deliver an address to them in the
dining-saloon some time during the voyage, and this I consented to do.
Senator Sewell presided at this meeting. After ten days of delightful
weather, during which I was not seasick for a day, we landed at the
interesting old city of Antwerp, in Belgium.
The next day after we landed happened to be one of those numberless
holidays which the people of those countries are in the habit of
observing. It was a bright, beautiful day. Our room in the hotel faced
the main public square, and the sights there—the people coming in from
the country with all kinds of beautiful flowers to sell, the women
coming in with their dogs drawing large, brightly polished cans filled
with milk, the people streaming into the cathedral—filled me with a
sense of newness that I had never before experienced.
After spending some time in Antwerp, we were invited to go with a part
of a half-dozen persons on a trip through Holland. This party included
Edward Marshall and some American artists who had come over on the same
steamer with us. We accepted the invitation, and enjoyed the trip
greatly. I think it was all the more interesting and instructive
because we went for most of the way on one of the slow, old-fashioned
canal-boats. This gave us an opportunity of seeing and studying the
real life of the people in the country districts. We went in this way
as far as Rotterdam, and later went to The Hague, where the Peace
Conference was then in session, and where we were kindly received by
the American representatives.
The thing that impressed itself most on me in Holland was the
thoroughness of the agriculture and the excellence of the Holstein
cattle. I never knew, before visiting Holland, how much it was possible
for people to get out of a small plot of ground. It seemed to me that
absolutely no land was wasted. It was worth a trip to Holland, too,
just to get a sight of three or four hundred fine Holstein cows grazing
in one of those intensely green fields.
From Holland we went to Belgium, and made a hasty trip through that
country, stopping at Brussels, where we visited the battlefield of
Waterloo. From Belgium we went direct to Paris, where we found that Mr.
Theodore Stanton, the son of Mrs. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, had kindly
provided accommodations for us. We had barely got settled in Paris
before an invitation came to me from the University Club of Paris to be
its guest at a banquet which was soon to be given. The other guests
were ex-President Benjamin Harrison and Archbishop Ireland, who were in
Paris at the time. The American Ambassador, General Horace Porter,
presided at the banquet. My address on this occasion seemed to give
satisfaction to those who heard it. General Harrison kindly devoted a
large portion of his remarks at dinner to myself and to the influence
of the work at Tuskegee on the American race question. After my address
at this banquet other invitations came to me, but I declined the most
of them, knowing that if I accepted them all, the object of my visit
would be defeated. I did, however, consent to deliver an address in the
American chapel the following Sunday morning, and at this meeting
General Harrison, General Porter, and other distinguished Americans
were present.
Later we received a formal call from the American Ambassador, and were
invited to attend a reception at his residence. At this reception we
met many Americans, among them Justices Fuller and Harlan, of the
United States Supreme Court. During our entire stay of a month in
Paris, both the American Ambassador and his wife, as well as several
other Americans, were very kind to us.
While in Paris we saw a good deal of the now famous American Negro
painter, Mr. Henry O. Tanner, whom we had formerly known in America. It
was very satisfactory to find how well known Mr. Tanner was in the
field of art, and to note the high standing which all classes accorded
to him. When we told some Americans that we were going to the
Luxembourg Palace to see a painting by an American Negro, it was hard
to convince them that a Negro had been thus honoured. I do not believe
that they were really convinced of the fact until they saw the picture
for themselves. My acquaintance with Mr. Tanner reenforced in my mind
the truth which I am constantly trying to impress upon our students at
Tuskegee—and on our people throughout the country, as far as I can
reach them with my voice—that any man, regardless of colour, will be
recognized and rewarded just in proportion as he learns to do something
well—learns to do it better than some one else—however humble the thing
may be. As I have said, I believe that my race will succeed in
proportion as it learns to do a common thing in an uncommon manner;
learns to do a thing so thoroughly that no one can improve upon what it
has done; learns to make its services of indispensable value. This was
the spirit that inspired me in my first effort at Hampton, when I was
given the opportunity to sweep and dust that schoolroom. In a degree I
felt that my whole future life depended upon the thoroughness with
which I cleaned that room, and I was determined to do it so well that
no one could find any fault with the job. Few people ever stopped, I
found, when looking at his pictures, to inquire whether Mr. Tanner was
a Negro painter, a French painter, or a German painter. They simply
knew that he was able to produce something which the world wanted—a
great painting—and the matter of his colour did not enter into their
minds. When a Negro girl learns to cook, to wash dishes, to sew, or
write a book, or a Negro boy learns to groom horses, or to grow sweet
potatoes, or to produce butter, or to build a house, or to be able to
practise medicine, as well or better than some one else, they will be
rewarded regardless of race or colour. In the long run, the world is
going to have the best, and any difference in race, religion, or
previous history will not long keep the world from what it wants.
I think that the whole future of my race hinges on the question as to
whether or not it can make itself of such indispensable value that the
people in the town and the state where we reside will feel that our
presence is necessary to the happiness and well-being of the community.
No man who continues to add something to the material, intellectual,
and moral well-being of the place in which he lives is long left
without proper reward. This is a great human law which cannot be
permanently nullified.
The love of pleasure and excitement which seems in a large measure to
possess the French people impressed itself upon me. I think they are
more noted in this respect than is true of the people of my own race.
In point of morality and moral earnestness I do not believe that the
French are ahead of my own race in America. Severe competition and the
great stress of life have led them to learn to do things more
thoroughly and to exercise greater economy; but time, I think, will
bring my race to the same point. In the matter of truth and high honour
I do not believe that the average Frenchman is ahead of the American
Negro; while so far as mercy and kindness to dumb animals go, I believe
that my race is far ahead. In fact, when I left France, I had more
faith in the future of the black man in America than I had ever
possessed.
From Paris we went to London, and reached there early in July, just
about the height of the London social season. Parliament was in
session, and there was a great deal of gaiety. Mr. Garrison and other
friends had provided us with a large number of letters of introduction,
and they had also sent letters to other persons in different parts of
the United Kingdom, apprising these people of our coming. Very soon
after reaching London we were flooded with invitations to attend all
manner of social functions, and a great many invitations came to me
asking that I deliver public addresses. The most of these invitations I
declined, for the reason that I wanted to rest. Neither were we able to
accept more than a small proportion of the other invitations. The Rev.
Dr. Brooke Herford and Mrs. Herford, whom I had known in Boston,
consulted with the American Ambassador, the Hon. Joseph Choate, and
arranged for me to speak at a public meeting to be held in Essex Hall.
Mr. Choate kindly consented to preside. The meeting was largely
attended. There were many distinguished persons present, among them
several members of Parliament, including Mr. James Bryce, who spoke at
the meeting. What the American Ambassador said in introducing me, as
well as a synopsis of what I said, was widely published in England and
in the American papers at the time. Dr. and Mrs. Herford gave Mrs.
Washington and myself a reception, at which we had the privilege of
meeting some of the best people in England. Throughout our stay in
London Ambassador Choate was most kind and attentive to us. At the
Ambassador’s reception I met, for the first time, Mark Twain.
We were the guests several times of Mrs. T. Fisher Unwin, the daughter
of the English statesman, Richard Cobden. It seemed as if both Mr. and
Mrs. Unwin could not do enough for our comfort and happiness. Later,
for nearly a week, we were the guests of the daughter of John Bright,
now Mrs. Clark, of Street, England. Both Mr. and Mrs. Clark, with their
daughter, visited us at Tuskegee the next year. In Birmingham, England,
we were the guests for several days of Mr. Joseph Sturge, whose father
was a great abolitionist and friend of Whittier and Garrison. It was a
great privilege to meet throughout England those who had known and
honoured the late William Lloyd Garrison, the Hon. Frederick Douglass,
and other abolitionists. The English abolitionists with whom we came in
contact never seemed to tire of talking about these two Americans.
Before going to England I had had no proper conception of the deep
interest displayed by the abolitionists of England in the cause of
freedom, nor did I realize the amount of substantial help given by
them.
In Bristol, England, both Mrs. Washington and I spoke at the Women’s
Liberal Club. I was also the principal speaker at the Commencement
exercises of the Royal College for the Blind. These exercises were held
in the Crystal Palace, and the presiding officer was the late Duke of
Westminster, who was said to be, I believe, the richest man in England,
if not in the world. The Duke, as well as his wife and their daughter,
seemed to be pleased with what I said, and thanked me heartily. Through
the kindness of Lady Aberdeen, my wife and I were enabled to go with a
party of those who were attending the International Congress of Women,
then in session in London, to see Queen Victoria, at Windsor Castle,
where, afterward, we were all the guests of her Majesty at tea. In our
party was Miss Susan B. Anthony, and I was deeply impressed with the
fact that one did not often get an opportunity to see, during the same
hour, two women so remarkable in different ways as Susan B. Anthony and
Queen Victoria.
In the House of Commons, which we visited several times, we met Sir
Henry M. Stanley. I talked with him about Africa and its relation to
the American Negro, and after my interview with him I became more
convinced than ever that there was no hope of the American Negro’s
improving his condition by emigrating to Africa.
On various occasions Mrs. Washington and I were the guests of
Englishmen in their country homes, where, I think, one sees the
Englishman at his best. In one thing, at least, I feel sure that the
English are ahead of Americans, and that is, that they have learned how
to get more out of life. The home life of the English seems to me to be
about as perfect as anything can be. Everything moves like clockwork. I
was impressed, too, with the deference that the servants show to their
“masters” and “mistresses,”—terms which I suppose would not be
tolerated in America. The English servant expects, as a rule, to be
nothing but a servant, and so he perfects himself in the art to a
degree that no class of servants in America has yet reached. In our
country the servant expects to become, in a few years, a “master”
himself. Which system is preferable? I will not venture an answer.
Another thing that impressed itself upon me throughout England was the
high regard that all classes have for law and order, and the ease and
thoroughness with which everything is done. The Englishmen, I found,
took plenty of time for eating, as for everything else. I am not sure
if, in the long run, they do not accomplish as much or more than
rushing, nervous Americans do.
My visit to England gave me a higher regard for the nobility than I had
had. I had no idea that they were so generally loved and respected by
the classes, nor had I any correct conception of how much time and
money they spent in works of philanthropy, and how much real heart they
put into this work. My impression had been that they merely spent money
freely and had a “good time.”
It was hard for me to get accustomed to speaking to English audiences.
The average Englishman is so serious, and is so tremendously in earnest
about everything, that when I told a story that would have made an
American audience roar with laughter, the Englishmen simply looked me
straight in the face without even cracking a smile.
When the Englishman takes you into his heart and friendship, he binds
you there as with cords of steel, and I do not believe that there are
many other friendships that are so lasting or so satisfactory. Perhaps
I can illustrate this point in no better way than by relating the
following incident. Mrs. Washington and I were invited to attend a
reception given by the Duke and Duchess of Sutherland, at Stafford
House—said to be the finest house in London; I may add that I believe
the Duchess of Sutherland is said to be the most beautiful woman in
England. There must have been at least three hundred persons at this
reception. Twice during the evening the Duchess sought us out for a
conversation, and she asked me to write her when we got home, and tell
her more about the work at Tuskegee. This I did. When Christmas came we
were surprised and delighted to receive her photograph with her
autograph on it. The correspondence has continued, and we now feel that
in the Duchess of Sutherland we have one of our warmest friends.
After three months in Europe we sailed from Southampton in the
steamship St. Louis. On this steamer there was a fine library that had
been presented to the ship by the citizens of St. Louis, Mo. In this
library I found a life of Frederick Douglass, which I began reading. I
became especially interested in Mr. Douglass’s description of the way
he was treated on shipboard during his first or second visit to
England. In this description he told how he was not permitted to enter
the cabin, but had to confine himself to the deck of the ship. A few
minutes after I had finished reading this description I was waited on
by a committee of ladies and gentlemen with the request that I deliver
an address at a concert which was to begin the following evening. And
yet there are people who are bold enough to say that race feeling in
America is not growing less intense! At this concert the Hon. Benjamin
B. Odell, Jr., the present governor of New York, presided. I was never
given a more cordial hearing anywhere. A large proportion of the
passengers were Southern people. After the concert some of the
passengers proposed that a subscription be raised to help the work at
Tuskegee, and the money to support several scholarships was the result.
While we were in Paris I was very pleasantly surprised to receive the
following invitation from the citizens of West Virginia and of the city
near which I had spent my boyhood days:—
Charleston, W. Va., May 16, 1899.
Professor Booker T. Washington, Paris, France:
Dear Sir: Many of the best citizens of West Virginia have united in
liberal expressions of admiration and praise of your worth and work,
and desire that on your return from Europe you should favour them with
your presence and with the inspiration of your words. We must sincerely
indorse this move, and on behalf of the citizens of Charleston extend
to your our most cordial invitation to have you come to us, that we may
honour you who have done so much by your life and work to honour us.
We are,
Very truly yours,
The Common Council of the City of Charleston,
By W. Herman Smith, Mayor.
This invitation from the City Council of Charleston was accompanied by
the following:—
Professor Booker T. Washington, Paris, France:
Dear Sir: We, the citizens of Charleston and West Virginia, desire to
express our pride in you and the splendid career that you have thus far
accomplished, and ask that we be permitted to show our pride and
interest in a substantial way.
Your recent visit to your old home in our midst awoke within us the
keenest regret that we were not permitted to hear you and render some
substantial aid to your work, before you left for Europe.
In view of the foregoing, we earnestly invite you to share the
hospitality of our city upon your return from Europe, and give us the
opportunity to hear you and put ourselves in touch with your work in a
way that will be most gratifying to yourself, and that we may receive
the inspiration of your words and presence.
An early reply to this invitation, with an indication of the time you
may reach our city, will greatly oblige,
Yours very respectfully,
The Charleston Daily Gazette, The Daily Mail-Tribune; G.W. Atkinson,
Governor; E.L. Boggs, Secretary to Governor; Wm. M.O. Dawson, Secretary
of State; L.M. La Follette, Auditor; J.R. Trotter, Superintendent of
Schools; E.W. Wilson, ex-Governor; W.A. MacCorkle, ex-Governor; John Q.
Dickinson, President Kanawha Valley Bank; L. Prichard, President
Charleston National Bank; Geo. S. Couch, President Kanawha National
Bank; Ed. Reid, Cashier Kanawha National Bank; Geo. S. Laidley,
Superintended City Schools; L.E. McWhorter, President Board of
Education; Chas. K. Payne, wholesale merchant; and many others.
This invitation, coming as it did from the City Council, the state
officers, and all the substantial citizens of both races of the
community where I had spent my boyhood, and from which I had gone a few
years before, unknown, in poverty and ignorance, in quest of an
education, not only surprised me, but almost unmanned me. I could not
understand what I had done to deserve it all.
I accepted the invitation, and at the appointed day was met at the
railway station at Charleston by a committee headed by ex-Governor W.A.
MacCorkle, and composed of men of both races. The public reception was
held in the Opera-House at Charleston. The Governor of the state, the
Hon. George W. Atkinson, presided, and an address of welcome was made
by ex-Governor MacCorkle. A prominent part in the reception was taken
by the coloured citizens. The Opera-House was filled with citizens of
both races, and among the white people were many for whom I had worked
when I was a boy. The next day Governor and Mrs. Atkinson gave me a
public reception at the State House, which was attended by all classes.
Not long after this the coloured people in Atlanta, Georgia, gave me a
reception at which the Governor of the state presided, and a similar
reception was given me in New Orleans, which was presided over by the
Mayor of the city. Invitations came from many other places which I was
not able to accept.