is perfectly apparent--the Negro has reached beyond the "bone" stage.
He is no longer content with being a passive observer, a quiet
looker-on, while his character and interests are under discussion. He
is now disposed to speak for himself, to "take part in the conflict."
Any one desiring evidence of this will find it in the following pages
of "Twentieth Century Negro Literature."

This book will do good. It will enlighten many of both races on topics
respecting which they seem to be profoundly ignorant. Not very long
ago a Negro delivered an address in one of the largest churches in
Atlanta. It was an occasion in which a goodly number of white people
was present. They expressed themselves as being delighted. One man
said to a colored bishop that he didn't know there was a Negro in the
state that could have delivered such an address. The fact is, both the
good bishop and the writer of these lines might have found him twenty
who could, at least, deliver an address as good, and ten, probably,
who could deliver a better. Well, we don't know each other--we white
and black folk. We are neighbors, yet strangers. Our thoughts, our
motives, our desires are unknown to each other. Between the best white
and black people, in whom alone vests the possibility of a rational
and peaceful solution of the race question, there is absolutely no
communication, no opportunity for exchange of views. Herein lies the
danger; for both people, as a consequence, are suspicious, the one of
the other. Not infrequently, with much uncharitableness, we attribute
wrong motives to those who are truly our friends. Were we acquainted
with one another, as we ought to be, we would doubtless be surprised
to discover how little we differ in our thinking with reference to
many of the vexed questions confronting us. Indeed, it has always been
the belief of the writer, frequently expressed, that neither of the
races is as bad as it appears to the other. May we not hope, then,