Believe me, with great regard,

Very truly yours,

Charles W. Eliot.

This was a recognition that had never in the slightest manner entered into my mind, and it was hard for me to realize that I was to be honoured by a degree from the oldest and most renowned university in America.  As I sat upon my veranda, with this letter in my hand, tears came into my eyes.  My whole former life—­my life as a slave on the plantation, my work in the coal-mine, the times when I was without food and clothing, when I made my bed under a sidewalk, my struggles for an education, the trying days I had had at Tuskegee, days when I did not know where to turn for a dollar to continue the work there, the ostracism and sometimes oppression of my race,—­all this passed before me and nearly overcame me.

I had never sought or cared for what the world calls fame.  I have always looked upon fame as something to be used in accomplishing good.  I have often said to my friends that if I can use whatever prominence may have come to me as an instrument with which to do good, I am content to have it.  I care for it only as a means to be used for doing good, just as wealth may be used.  The more I come into contact with wealthy people, the more I believe that they are growing in the direction of looking upon their money simply as an instrument which God has placed in their hand for doing good with.  I never go to the office of Mr. John D. Rockefeller, who more than once has been generous to Tuskegee, without being reminded of this.  The close, careful, and minute investigation that he always makes in order to be sure that every dollar that he gives will do the most good—­an investigation that is just as searching as if he were investing money in a business enterprise—­convinces me that the growth in this direction is most encouraging.

At nine o’clock, on the morning of June 24, I met President Eliot, the Board of Overseers of Harvard University, and the other guests, at the designated place on the university grounds, for the purpose of being escorted to Sanders Theatre, where the Commencement exercises were to be held and degrees conferred.  Among others invited to be present for the purpose of receiving a degree at this time were General Nelson A. Miles, Dr. Bell, the inventor of the Bell telephone, Bishop Vincent, and the Rev. Minot J. Savage.  We were placed in line immediately behind the President and the Board of Overseers, and directly afterward the Governor of Massachusetts, escorted by the Lancers, arrived and took his place in the line of march by the side of President Eliot.  In the line there were also various other officers and professors, clad in cap and gown.  In this order we marched to Sanders Theatre, where, after the usual Commencement exercises, came the conferring of the honorary degrees.  This, it seems, is always considered the most interesting feature at Harvard.  It is not known, until the individuals appear, upon whom the honorary degrees are to be conferred, and those receiving these honours are cheered by the students and others in proportion to their popularity.  During the conferring of the degrees excitement and enthusiasm are at the highest pitch.