General Armstrong spent two of the last six months of his life in my home at Tuskegee.  At that time he was paralyzed to the extent that he had lost control of his body and voice in a very large degree.  Notwithstanding his affliction, he worked almost constantly night and day for the cause to which he had given his life.  I never saw a man who so completely lost sight of himself.  I do not believe he ever had a selfish thought.  He was just as happy in trying to assist some other institution in the South as he was when working for Hampton.  Although he fought the Southern white man in the Civil War, I never heard him utter a bitter word against him afterward.  On the other hand, he was constantly seeking to find ways by which he could be of service to the Southern whites.

It would be difficult to describe the hold that he had upon the students at Hampton, or the faith they had in him.  In fact, he was worshipped by his students.  It never occurred to me that General Armstrong could fail in anything that he undertook.  There is almost no request that he could have made that would not have been complied with.  When he was a guest at my home in Alabama, and was so badly paralyzed that he had to be wheeled about in an invalid’s chair, I recall that one of the General’s former students had occasion to push his chair up a long, steep hill that taxed his strength to the utmost.  When the top of the hill was reached, the former pupil, with a glow of happiness on his face, exclaimed, “I am so glad that I have been permitted to do something that was real hard for the General before he dies!” While I was a student at Hampton, the dormitories became so crowded that it was impossible to find room for all who wanted to be admitted.  In order to help remedy the difficulty, the General conceived the plan of putting up tents to be used as rooms.  As soon as it became known that General Armstrong would be pleased if some of the older students would live in the tents during the winter, nearly every student in school volunteered to go.

I was one of the volunteers.  The winter that we spent in those tents was an intensely cold one, and we suffered severely—­how much I am sure General Armstrong never knew, because we made no complaints.  It was enough for us to know that we were pleasing General Armstrong, and that we were making it possible for an additional number of students to secure an education.  More than once, during a cold night, when a stiff gale would be blowing, our tend was lifted bodily, and we would find ourselves in the open air.  The General would usually pay a visit to the tents early in the morning, and his earnest, cheerful, encouraging voice would dispel any feeling of despondency.

I have spoken of my admiration for General Armstrong, and yet he was but a type of that Christlike body of men and women who went into the Negro schools at the close of the war by the hundreds to assist in lifting up my race.  The history of the world fails to show a higher, purer, and more unselfish class of men and women than those who found their way into those Negro schools.