I have since known of colored men who have been chosen as class
orators in our leading universities, of others who have played on the
varsity football and baseball teams, of colored speakers who have
addressed great white audiences. In each of these instances I believe
the men were stirred by the same emotions which actuated "Shiny" on
the day of his graduation; and, too, in each case where the efforts
have reached any high standard of excellence they have been followed
by the same phenomenon of enthusiasm. I think the explanation of the
latter lies in what is a basic, though often dormant, principle of the
Anglo-Saxon heart, love of fair play. "Shiny," it is true, was what is
so common in his race, a natural orator; but I doubt that any white
boy of equal talent could have wrought the same effect. The sight of
that boy gallantly waging with puny, black arms so unequal a battle
touched the deep springs in the hearts of his audience, and they were
swept by a wave of sympathy and admiration.

But the effect upon me of "Shiny's" speech was double; I not only
shared the enthusiasm of his audience, but he imparted to me some of
his own enthusiasm. I felt leap within me pride that I was colored;
and I began to form wild dreams of bringing glory and honor to the
Negro race. For days I could talk of nothing else with my mother
except my ambitions to be a great man, a great colored man, to reflect
credit on the race and gain fame for myself. It was not until years
after that I formulated a definite and feasible plan for realizing my
dreams.

I entered the high school with my class, and still continued my study
of the piano, the pipe organ, and the theory of music. I had to
drop out of the boys' choir on account of a changing voice; this