f involvement. The writings of the Negro are full of soul. If, at
times, there is a lacking of aptness in conventional adjustments, the
hiatus is beautifully abridged with a freshness and wealth of
expression that fully atones.

The Negro writer has it largely in his power to demonstrate the higher
possibilities and capabilities of his race. As long as there is a
Charles W. Chestnut, or a Paul Lawrence Dunbar, a T. Thomas Fortune,
and others, whose writings are read by the thousands of literary
people of this country and England, so long will there be an
irrefutable argument for the intellectual worth of the Negro race.

It is within the power of the Negro writer to practically and
profitably demonstrate the oft repeated aphorism, "Genius is not the
plant of any particular soil."

It should be a matter of some congratulation to the Negro that the
great publishing houses of this country are not, and never will be,
located at the great centers of race prejudice. A manuscript of merit
can easily find publication. Within recent years it has been noticed
that the vein of seriousness that has run through the writings of
Negro authors is fading away, and a jollity that is his own is taking
its place. Most of the men and women of the race, who have written
enough to win public notice, are known to be persons of a cheerful and
jovial disposition. For such a person to live in the role of the
miserable is at least a misrepresentation.

The Negro's aptness in detecting the facetious, even in things that
are serious; his laughing soul that places a bouquet of joy and
sunshine where the somber draping of woe would so often be found, is
his God-given stock in trade upon which he can do business for
generations to come. This secret is being discovered by him. This
discovery will yet furnish the great world of letters with men and
women of this race, who will place millions under tribute to
graciously acknowledge the beneficence.

The way to favor and preferment for the Negro writer is to be made by
himself. The epic of his race awaits a writer. The drama of an
unwritten history covering about four centuries will welcome the
facile pen of some gifted son or daughter. The well nigh inexhaustible
field of folk-lore of his own people is ready to be told to the world,
whether in the crude dialect of the race, or in Americanized English,
it matters little. It will make no difference. The English speaking
people of both continents will