I had not had the privilege
of sitting down to a dining-table until I was quite well grown.
Luxuries had always seemed to me to be something meant for white
people, not for my race. I had always regarded Europe, and London,
and Paris, much as I regarded heaven. And now could it be that I was
actually going to Europe? Such thoughts as these were constantly with
me.
Two other thoughts troubled me a good deal. I feared that people
who heard that Mrs. Washington and I were going to Europe might not
know all the circumstances, and might get the idea that we had become,
as some might say, "stuck up," and were trying to "show off." I
recalled that from my youth I had heard it said that too often, when
people of my race reached any degree of success, they were inclined to
unduly exalt themselves; to try and ape the wealthy, and in so doing
to lose their heads. The fear that people might think this of us
haunted me a good deal. Then, too, I could not see how my conscience
would permit me to spare the time from my work and be happy. It
seemed mean and selfish in me to be taking a vacation while others
were at work, and while there was so much that needed to be done.
From the time I could remember, I had always been at work, and I did
not see how I could spend three or four months in doing nothing.
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