elusive undertone, the note in music which is not heard with the
ears. I sat often with the tears rolling down my cheeks and my heart
melted within me. Any musical person who has never heard a Negro
congregation under the spell of religious fervor sing these old songs
has missed one of the most thrilling emotions which the human heart
may experience. Anyone who without shedding tears can listen to
Negroes sing "Nobody knows de trouble I see, Nobody knows but Jesus"
must indeed have a heart of stone.

As yet, the Negroes themselves do not fully appreciate these old slave
songs. The educated classes are rather ashamed of them and prefer to
sing hymns from books. This feeling is natural; they are still too
close to the conditions under which the songs were produced; but
the day will come when this slave music will be the most treasured
heritage of the American Negro.

At the close of the "big meeting" I left the settlement where it was
being held, full of enthusiasm. I was in that frame of mind which, in
the artistic temperament, amounts to inspiration. I was now ready and
anxious to get to some place where I might settle down to work, and
give expression to the ideas which were teeming in my head; but I
strayed into another deviation from my path of life as I had it marked
out, which led me upon an entirely different road. Instead of going
to the nearest and most convenient railroad station, I accepted the
invitation of a young man who had been present the closing Sunday at
the meeting to drive with him some miles farther to the town in which
he taught school, and there take the train. My conversation with
this young man as we drove along through the country was
extremely interesting. He had been a student in one of the Negro
colleges--strange coincidence, in the very college, as I learned
through him, in which "Shiny" was now a professor. I was, of course,
curious to hear about my boyhood friend; and had it not been vacation
time, and that I was not sure that I should find him, I should have
gone out of my way to pay him a visit; but I determined to write to
him as soon as the school opened. My companion talked to me about his
work among the people, of his hopes and his discouragements. He was
tremendously in earnest; I might say, too much so. In fact, it may
be said that the majority of intelligent colored people are, in some
degree, too much in earnest over the race question. They assume and
carry so much that their