away precious time, that you have been indifferent to the advice of
your teachers, that you really haven't been honest with yourselves in
the preparation of your lessons, that you have been careless in your
recitations. I want you to be really honest with yourselves and say,
from to-night on, "I am going to take charge of myself. I am not going
to drift in this respect. I am going to row up the stream; and my life,
as a schoolboy or a schoolgirl, is going to be different from what it
has been."
Now place yourselves again in the presence of your parents, of those
who are dearest to you, and answer this question, In your work, in your
industrial work here, have you done your real best? In the field and
in the shop, with the plough, the trowel, the hammer, the saw, have
you done your level best? Have you done your best in the sewing room
and in the cooking classes? Have you justified your parents in the
sacrifice of time and money which they have made in order to allow you
to come here? If you haven't done your best in these respects--and many
of you haven't--there is still time for you to become a different man
or woman. It isn't too late. You can turn yourselves completely around.
Those of you who have been indifferent and slow, those of you who have
been thoughtless and slovenly, those of you who have tried to find out
how little effort of body or mind you could put into your industrial
work here,--it isn't too late for you to turn yourselves completely
around in that respect, and to say that from to-night you are going to
be a different man or woman.
Have you done your level best in making your surroundings what the
school requires, what your school life should be, in learning how to
take care of your bodies, in learning how to keep your bodies clean and
pure, in the conscientious, systematic use of the tooth brush? Have
you done your best? Have you been downright honest in that respect,
alone? Have you used the tooth brush just because you felt it was a
requirement of the school, or because you felt that you could not be
clean or honest with your room-mates, that you could not be yourself
in the sight of God, unless you used the tooth brush? Have you used
it in the dark, as well as in the light? Have you learned that, even
if your room was not going to be inspected on a certain day, it was
just as important that you learn the lesson of being conscientious
about keeping it in order as if you knew it was going to be inspected?
Have you been careful in this respect? Have you shifted this duty,
or neglected that duty? Have you thrown some task off on to your
room-mates? Have you tried to "slide out" of it, or, as it were,
"to get by," as the slang phrase goes, without doing really honest,
straightforward work, as regards the cleanliness of your room, the
improvement of it, the making of it more attractive?
Have you been really honest with yourselves and your parents, and with
those who spend so much money for the support of this institution?
Above all, have you been really true to your parents and to your best
selves in growing in strength of character, in strength of purpose, in
being downright honest? Those of you who came here, for instance, with
the habit of telling falsehoods, of deceiving in one way or another;
those of you who came here with the temptation, perhaps, in too many
cases, overshadowing you and overpowering you, to take property which
does not belong to you; have you been really honest in overcoming
habits of this kind? Are you building character? Are you less willing
to yield to temptation? Are you more able to overcome temptation now
than you were? If you are not more able, you have not grown in this
respect.
But it is not too late. If there are some of you who have been
unfortunate enough to allow little mean habits, mean dispositions, mean
acts, mean thoughts, mean words, to get the uppermost of you--in a
word, if your life thus far has been a little, dried-up, narrow life,
get rid of that life. Throw open your heart. Say now, "I am not going
to be conquered by little, mean thoughts, words and acts any longer.
Hereafter all my thoughts, all my words, all my acts, shall be large,
generous, high, pure."
In a word, I want you to get hold of this idea, that you can make the
future of your lives just what you want to make it. You can make it
bright, happy, useful, if you learn this fundamental lesson, and stick
to it while in school, or after you go away from here, that it doesn't
pay any individual to do any less than his very best. It doesn't pay
to be anything else but downright honest in heart. Any person who is
not honest, who is not trying to do his very best in the classroom or
in the shop, no matter where he may be, will find out that it does not
pay in the long run. You may think it best for a little while, but
permanently it does not pay any man or woman to be anything but really,
downright honest, and to do his or her level best.
Now I want you to think about these things, not only here in the chapel
to-night, but to-morrow in your class-rooms, and with reference to
everything you touch. I want to see you let it shine out, even at the
very ends of your fingers, that you are doing your best in everything.
Do this, and you will find at the end of the year that you are growing
stronger, purer, and brighter, that you are making your parents and
those interested in you happier, and that you are preparing yourselves
to do what this institution and the country expect you to do.
DON'T BE DISCOURAGED
Last Sunday evening I spoke to you for a few minutes regarding the
importance of determining to do the right thing in every phase of your
school life. There are a few things that enter into student life which,
in a very large degree, cause the untrue to fall by the wayside, and
which prevent students from doing their very best. Among these things
is the disposition to grow discouraged. Very many people, very many
students, who otherwise would succeed, who would go through school
creditably, graduating with honours, have failed to succeed because
they became discouraged.
Now there are a number of things in school life that cause a student to
become discouraged, and I am going to try to enumerate a few of them,
although I do not know that I shall mention nearly all of them.
Students frequently become discouraged on account of their industrial
work. It is not of the character that they want it to be, or they do
not get assigned to the trade they want to work at. Still others
become discouraged because of their classroom studies. They find that
their studies are difficult; that their lessons are too long and their
memories too short. They find that they cannot understand the teacher,
or they think they find that the teacher does not understand them.
Some become discouraged because they think that they are entirely
misunderstood, are misunderstood by their classmates and by their
teachers. They think that their efforts in the classroom and in the
shop are not properly appreciated.
Others become discouraged because they feel that they are without
friends. It seems to them that other students have friends on every
hand who are encouraging them, who send them money, who supply them
with clothing, and that they themselves have no such friends.
You become discouraged for such reasons as these. You feel that your
highest and best efforts are not appreciated. This tends to discourage
you. There are not a few of you who get discouraged because you feel
that you belong to a despised race; that for a long time you have been
trampled upon because of your colour, and because of certain peculiar
characteristics; that you have been neglected or oppressed, and that
there is no reason why you should make an effort to go forward; that
you belong to a race that is doomed to disappointment, to stay under,
and to not succeed.
Some of you become discouraged and despondent because of poverty.
Perhaps here I strike the basis of the reason for most of the
discouragement. You come here, and your parents disappoint you. They
do not supply you with money. You become discouraged because they do
not supply you with proper clothing, or with what you think you ought
to have, and, very often, with such as you really ought to have, and
that disheartens you. You find that other students have money, and you
have none. They have money not only for the necessities of school life,
but for some of the luxuries, while you have not enough for even the
bare necessities. Other students are more than supplied with clothing,
while you are very scantily supplied. You shiver, in many cases, by
reason of the cold, while others are comfortable and nicely dressed.
Sometimes you are even ashamed to show yourself in public, because of
the appearance of the old coat, or trousers, or shoes that you have to
wear.
Some of you become discouraged because you find yourselves without
the proper books. Some of you cannot get the money needed to purchase
books, a tooth brush, and other necessary things. You find yourselves
cramped and hampered on every hand. You are discouraged at this point
and at that point, and you feel that nobody's lot is as hard as your
own. You become discouraged, you become dissatisfied, and you feel like
giving up.
Now I want to suggest to you to-night that this very thing of
discouragement, as an element in life, is for a purpose. I do not
believe that anything, any element of your lives, is put into them
without a purpose. I believe that every effort that we are obliged
to make to overcome obstacles will give us strength, will give us a
confidence in ourselves, that nothing else can give us. I would ten
times rather see you having a hard struggle to elevate yourselves,
having a hard time either at work on the farm, or on the buildings, or
in the shops, without money and without clothes, than to see you here
having too much money, and having everything that you want come to you
without any effort on your part. You are blessed, as compared with some
people. The man or woman who has money, without having had to work for
it, who has all the comforts of life, without effort, and who saves his
own soul and perhaps the soul of somebody else, such an individual is
rare, very rare indeed.
Now it is not a curse to be situated as some of you are, and if you
will make up your minds that you are going to overcome the obstacles
and the difficulties by which you are surrounded, you will find that in
every effort you make to overcome these difficulties you are growing
in strength and confidence. Make up your minds that you are not going
to allow anything to discourage you. Make up your minds that poor
lessons, scoldings on the part of your teachers, want of money, want of
books--that none of these shall discourage you. Make up your mind that
in spite of race and colour, in spite of the obstacles that surround
you, in spite of everything, you are going to succeed in your school
life, and are going to prepare yourself for usefulness hereafter.
Every person who has grown to any degree of usefulness, every person
who has grown to distinction, almost without exception has been a
person who has risen by overcoming obstacles, by removing difficulties,
by resolving that when he met discouragements he would not give up.
Make up your minds that you are going to overcome every discouragement,
and that you are not going to let any discouragement overcome you.
Those of you who have been inclined to be moody and morose, or have
been inclined to feel that the whole world is against you, that there
is no use for you to try to elevate yourselves, make up your minds that
your future is just as bright as that of anybody else. Do this, and you
will find that you have it in your own power to make your future bright
or gloomy, just as you desire.
ON GETTING A HOME
Every coloured man owes it to himself, and to his children as well, to
secure a home just as soon as possible. No matter how small the plot of
ground may be, or how humble the dwelling placed on it, something that
can be called a home should be secured without delay.
A home can be secured much easier than many imagine. A small amount of
money saved from week to week, or from month to month, and carefully
invested in a piece of land, will soon secure a site upon which to
build a comfortable house. No individual should feel satisfied until he
has a comfortable home. More and more the Southern States are making
one of the conditions for voting, the ownership of at least $300 worth
of property, so that persons who own homes will not only reap the
benefits that come from owning a home, in other directions, but will
also find themselves entitled to cast their ballot.
Care should be taken as to the location of the land. It is of little
advantage to secure a lot in some crowded, filthy alley. One should
try to secure a lot on a good street, a street that is carefully and
well worked, so that the surroundings of the home will be enjoyable.
Even if one has to go a good ways into the country to secure such a
lot, it is much better than to buy a building spot on an unsightly,
undesirable alley.
I believe that our people do best, as a rule, to buy land in the
country instead of in the city; but in either case we should not rest
until we have secured a home in one place or the other. No man has
a right to marry and run the risk of leaving his wife at his death
without a home.
I notice with regret that there are many of our people who have already
bought homes, who, after they have secured the land, paid for it and
built a cabin containing two or three rooms, do not seek to go any
further in the improvement of the property. In the first place, in
too many cases, the house and yard, especially the yard, are not kept
clean. The fences are not kept in repair. Whitewash and paint are not
used as they should be. After the house is paid for, the greatest care
should be exercised to see that it is kept in first-class repair;
that the walls of the house and the fences are kept neatly painted
or whitewashed; that no palings are allowed to fall off the fence, or
if they do fall off, to remain off. If there is a barn or a henhouse,
these should be kept in repair, and should, like the house, be made to
look neat and attractive by paint and whitewash.
Paint and whitewash add a great deal to the value of a house. If
persons would learn to use even a part of the time they spend in idle
gossip or in standing about on the streets, in whitewashing or painting
their houses, it would make a great difference in the appearance of the
buildings, as well as add to their value.
Only a short time ago, near a certain town, I visited the house--I
could not call it a home--of a presiding elder, a man who had received
considerable education, and who spent his time in going about over
his district preaching to hundreds and thousands of coloured people;
and yet the home of this man was almost a disgrace to him and to his
race. The house was not painted or whitewashed; the fence was in the
same condition; the yard was full of weeds; there were no walks laid
out in the yard; there were no flowers in it. In fact everything on
the outside of the house and in the yard presented a most dismal and
discouraging appearance. So far as I could see there was not a single
vegetable around this house, nor did I see any chickens or fowls of any
kind.
This is not the way to live, and especially is it not the way for a
minister or a teacher to live, for they are men who are supposed to
lead their people not only by word but by example. Every minister and
every teacher should make his home, his yard, and his garden, models
for the people whom he attempts to teach and lead. I confess that I
have no confidence in the preaching of a minister whose home is in
the condition of the one I have described. There is no need why, as a
race, we should get into the miserable and unfortunate habit of living
in houses that are out of repair, that are not whitewashed or painted,
that are not comfortable, and above all else, in houses that we do
not own. There is no reason why we should not make our homes not only
comfortable, but attractive, so that no one can tell from the outside
appearance, at least, whether the house is occupied by a white family
or a black family.
After a house has been paid for, it not only should be improved from
year to year and kept in good repair, but, as the family grows, new
rooms should be added. The house should not only be made comfortable,
but should be made convenient. As soon as possible there should be a
sitting room, where books and papers can be found, a room in which
the whole family may read and study during the winter nights. I do
not believe that any house is complete without a bathroom. As soon as
possible every one of our houses should be provided with a bathroom,
so that the body of every member of the family can be baptized every
morning in clean, invigorating, fresh water. Such a bath puts one in
proper condition for the work of the day, and not only keeps one well
physically, but strong morally and religiously.
Another important part of the home is the dining-room. The dining-room
should be the most attractive and most comfortable room in the house.
It should be large and airy, a room into which plenty of sunlight can
come, and a room that can be kept comfortable both in the summer and in
the winter.
These suggestions are made to you with the hope that you will put
them into practice, and also that you will influence others to do the
same. They are all suggestions that we, as a race, notwithstanding
our poverty, in most cases can find a way to put into practice. Every
one of them should be taken up by our teachers, our ministers and by
our educated young people. They should be taught and urged in school,
in church, in farmers' meetings, in women's meetings, and, in fact,
wherever the people of the race come together.
CALLING THINGS BY THEIR RIGHT NAMES
A few evenings ago I talked with you about the importance of learning
to be simple, humble and child-like before going out into the world.
You should remain in school until you get to the point where you feel
that you do not know anything, where you feel that you are willing to
learn from any one who can teach you.
Unfortunately there are many things here in the South which tend to
lead away from this simplicity to which I have referred. There is a
great inclination to make things appear what they are not. For example:
take the schools. There is a great tendency to call schools by names
which do not belong to them, and which do not correctly represent that
which in reality exists. You will find the habit growing more prevalent
every year, I fear, of calling a school a university, or a college,
or an academy, or a high-school. In fact we seldom hear of a plain,
common, public or graded school.
We do ourselves no good when we yield to that temptation. If a school
is a public school, call it one; but do not think that we gain anything
by calling a little country school, with two or three rooms and one or
two teachers, where some of the students are studying the alphabet, a
university. And still this is too often done throughout the South, as
you know. No respect or confidence is gained by the practice, but, on
the contrary, sensible people get disgusted with such false pretences.
When you go out into the world and meet with such cases as this, try
to make the people see that it is a great deal better to call their
small public school by a name which truly represents it, than to call
it a high-school or an academy. I do not by any means intend to say
that schools do not have the right to aspire to become high-schools and
colleges. What I mean to say is that it is hurtful to the race to get
into the habit of calling every little institution of learning that is
opened, a college or a university. It weakens us and prevents us from
getting a solid, sure foundation.
Again, we make the same mistake when we call every preacher or person
who stands in a pulpit to read from it, "Doctor," whether or not that
degree has been conferred upon him. Sensible people get tired of that
kind of thing. The degree of Doctor of Divinity was once held in the
highest esteem, and was conferred only upon those ministers who had
really become entitled to it because of some original research or other
work of high scholarship. Among highly educated people this rule holds
still. But to-day, especially in the South, many a little institution
that opens its doors and calls itself a college or a university, is
beginning to confer degrees, and make doctors of divinity of persons
who are unworthy of degrees. And sometimes, should these persons fail
to get an institution to confer a degree on them, they confer it on
themselves! The habit is getting to be so common that in little towns
the ministers are calling themselves Doctors. One pastor will meet
another and say, "Good morning, Doctor," and the other, wishing to be
as polite as his friend, will say, "How are you, Doctor?" and so it
goes on, until both begin to believe they really are Doctors. Now this
practice is not only ridiculous, but it is very hurtful to us as a
race, and it should be discouraged.
Much the same criticism may be made of many of those who teach.
A person who teaches a little country school, perhaps in a brush
arbour, is called "Professor." Every person who leads a string band is
called "Professor." I was in a small town not long ago, and I heard
the people speaking of some one as "the professor." I was anxious to
know who the professor was. So I waited a few minutes, and finally
the professor came up, and I recognized him as a member of one of our
preparatory classes. Now, don't suffer the world to put you in this
silly, ridiculous position. If people attempt to call you "Professor,"
or by any other title that is not yours, tell them that you are not a
professor, that you are a simple mister. That is a good enough title
for any one. We have the same right to become professors as any other
people, when we occupy positions which entitle us to that name, but we
drag that title, which ought to be a badge of scholarship, down into
the mud and mire when we allow it to be misapplied.
We carry a similar kind of deception into our school work when, in
the essays which we read and the orations which we deliver, we simply
rehearse matter a great deal of which has been copied from some one
else. Go into almost any church where there is one of the doctors of
divinity to whom I have referred, and you will hear sermons copied out
of books and pamphlets. The essays, the orations, the sermons that are
not the productions of the people who pretend to write them, all come
from this false foundation.
Then there is another error to which I wish to call your attention. In
many parts of the South, especially in the cities and towns, there are
excellent public schools, well equipped in every way with apparatus
and material, and provided with good, competent teachers, but in some
cases these schools are crippled by reason of the fact that there
are little denominational schools which deprive the public schools
of their rightful attendance. If the school can't be in the church
of some particular denomination, it must be near it. In the average
town there may be the denominational school of the African Methodist
Episcopal church, of the Zion church, of the Baptist church, of the
Wesleyan Methodist church, and so on, all in different parts of the
town. Instead of supporting one public school, provided at the expense
of the town or city, there exists this little, narrow denominational
spirit, which is robbing these innocent children of their education.
We want to say to such people as these, people who are content so
to deprive their children, and have them taught by some second-rate
teacher, that they are wrong. We want you to let the people know that
the great public-school system of America is the nation's greatest
glory, and that we do not help matters when we attempt to tear down
the public school. Of course it is the right and the duty of every
denomination to erect its own theological seminaries and its colleges,
where the special tenets of that denomination are taught to those
who are preparing for its pulpit; but no one has a right to let this
denominational spirit defeat the work of a public school to which all
should be free to go.