On another occasion, when I was making a trip from Augusta, Georgia, to Atlanta, being rather tired from much travel, I road in a Pullman sleeper.  When I went into the car, I found there two ladies from Boston whom I knew well.  These good ladies were perfectly ignorant, it seems, of the customs of the South, and in the goodness of their hearts insisted that I take a seat with them in their section.  After some hesitation I consented.  I had been there but a few minutes when one of them, without my knowledge, ordered supper to be served for the three of us.  This embarrassed me still further.  The car was full of Southern white men, most of whom had their eyes on our party.  When I found that supper had been ordered, I tried to contrive some excuse that would permit me to leave the section, but the ladies insisted that I must eat with them.  I finally settled back in my seat with a sigh, and said to myself, “I am in for it now, sure.”

To add further to the embarrassment of the situation, soon after the supper was placed on the table one of the ladies remembered that she had in her satchel a special kind of tea which she wished served, and as she said she felt quite sure the porter did not know how to brew it properly, she insisted upon getting up and preparing and serving it herself.  At last the meal was over; and it seemed the longest one that I had ever eaten.  When we were through, I decided to get myself out of the embarrassing situation and go to the smoking-room, where most of the men were by that time, to see how the land lay.  In the meantime, however, it had become known in some way throughout the car who I was.  When I went into the smoking-room I was never more surprised in my life than when each man, nearly every one of them a citizen of Georgia, came up and introduced himself to me and thanked me earnestly for the work that I was trying to do for the whole South.  This was not flattery, because each one of these individuals knew that he had nothing to gain by trying to flatter me.

From the first I have sought to impress the students with the idea that Tuskegee is not my institution, or that of the officers, but that it is their institution, and that they have as much interest in it as any of the trustees or instructors.  I have further sought to have them feel that I am at the institution as their friend and adviser, and not as their overseer.  It has been my aim to have them speak with directness and frankness about anything that concerns the life of the school.  Two or three times a year I ask the students to write me a letter criticising or making complaints or suggestions about anything connected with the institution.  When this is not done, I have them meet me in the chapel for a heart-to-heart talk about the conduct of the school.  There are no meetings with our students that I enjoy more than these, and none are more helpful to me in planning for the future.  These meetings, it seems to me, enable me to get at the very heart of all that concerns