Without hesitation I answer:--Those beautiful, weird, quaint, sweet melodies which were the simple, child-like expression of the anguish, the joy, the hopes, the burdens, the faith, the trials of our forefathers who wore the yoke of slavery.
He identifies the unique melodies of the Negro race as a profound expression of their historical experiences.
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More from Booker T. Washington
Despite this disappointment, however, I determined that I would learn something, anyway.
But taking place at the time it did, and for the reason that it did, no one could ever make me believe that my mother was guilty of thieving.
The picture of several dozen boys and girls in a schoolroom engaged in study made a deep impression upon me, and I had the feeling that to get into a schoolhouse and study in this way would be about the same as getting into paradise.