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Portia。 Her presence fretted him。
At last he turned to her irritably。 'Why do you sit there
moping？'
'I just got worries；' she said。 'For one thing； I worried about our
Willie。'
'William？'
'You see he been writing me regular ever Sunday。 The letter
will get here on Monday or Tuesday。 But last week he didn't
write。 Course I not really anxious。 Willie—he always so good…
natured and sweet I know he going to be all right。 He been
transferred from the prison to the chain gang and they going to
work up somewhere north of Atlanta。 Two weeks ago he
wrote this here letter to say they going to attend a church
service today； and he done asked me to send him his suit of
clothes and his red tie。'
。Is that all William said？'
'He written that this Mr。 B。 F。 Mason is at the prison； too。 And
that he run into Buster Johnson—he a boy Willie used to
know。 And also he done asked me to please send him his harp
because he can't be happy without he got his harp to play on。 I
done sent everthing。 Also a checker set and a white…iced cake。
But I sure hope I hears from him in the next few days。'
155
Doctor Copeland's eyes glowed with fever and he could not
rest his hands。 'Daughter； we shall have to discuss this later。 It
is getting late and I must finish here。 You go back to the
kitchen and see that all is ready。'
Portia stood up and tried to make her face bright and happy。
'What you done decided about that five…dollar prize？'
'As yet I have been unable to decide just what is the wisest
course；' he said carefully。
A certain friend of his； a Negro pharmacist； gave an award of
five dollars every year to the high…school student who wrote
the best essay on a given subject。 The pharmacist always made
Doctor Copeland sole judge of the papers and the winner was
announced at the Christmas party。 The subject of the
composition this year was 'My Ambition： How I Can Better
the Position of the Negro Race in Society。' There was only one
essay worthy of real consideration。 Yet this paper was so
childish and ill…advised that it would hardly be prudent to
confer upon it the award。 Doctor Copeland put on his glasses
and re…read the essay with deep concentration。
This is my ambition。 First I wish to attend Tuskegee College
but I do not wish to be a man like Booker Washington or
Doctor Carver。 Then when I deem that my education is
complete I wish to start off being a fine lawyer like the one
who defended the Scottsboro Boys。 I would only take cases
for colored people against white people。 Every day our people
are made in every way and by every means to feel that they
are inferior。 This is not so。 We are a Rising Race。 And we
cannot sweat beneath the white man's burdens for long。 We
cannot always sow where others reap。
I want to be like Moses； who led the children of Israel from
the land of the oppressors。 I want to get up a Secret
Organization of Colored Leaders and Scholars。 All colored
people will organize under the direction of these picked
leaders and prepare for revolt。 Other nations in the world who
are interested in the plight of our race and who would like to
see the United States divided would come to our aid。 All
colored people will organize and there will be a revolution；
and at the close colored156
people will take up all the territory east of the Mississippi and
south of the Potomac。 I shall set up a mighty country under the
control of the Organization of Colored Leaders and Scholars。
No white person will be allowed a passport—and if they get
into the country they will have no legal rights。
I hate the whole white race and will work always so that the
colored race can achieve revenge for all their sufferings。 That
is my ambition。
Doctor Copeland felt the fever warm in his veins。 The ticking
of the clock on his desk was loud and the sound jarred his
nerves。 How could he give the award to a boy with such wild
notions as this？ What should he decide？
The other essays were without any firm content at all。 The
young people would not think。 They wrote only about their
ambitions and omitted the last part of the tide altogether。 Only
one point was of some significance。 Nine out of the lot of
twenty…five began with the sentence； 'I do not want to be a
servant。' After that they wished to fly airplanes； or be
prizefighters； or preachers or dancers。 One girl's sole ambition
was to be kind to the poor。
The writer of the essay that troubled him was Lancy Davis。 He
had known the identity of the author before he turned the last
sheet over and saw the signature。 Already he had some trouble
with Lancy。 His older sister had gone out to work as a servant
when she was eleven years old and she had been raped by her
employer； a white man past middle age。 Then a year or so later
he had received an emergency call to attend Lancy。
Doctor Copeland went to the filing case in his bedroom where
he kept notes on all of his patients。 He took out the card
marked 'Mrs。 Dan Davis and Family' and glanced through the
notations until he reached Lancy's name。 The date was four
years ago。 The entries on him were written with more care
than the others and in ink： 'thirteen years old—past puberty。
Unsuccessful attempt self…emasculation。 Oversexed and
hyperthyroid。 Wept boisterously during two visits； though
little pain。 Voluble—very glad to see Lucy Davis—mother
washerwoman。 Intelligent talk through paranoiac。
Environment fair
157
with one exception and well worth watching and all possible
help。 Keep contact。 Fee： 1 （？）'
'It is a difficult decision to make this year；' he said to Portia。
〃But I suppose I will have to confer the award on Lancy
Davis。'
'If you done decide； then—come tell me about some of
these here presents。'
The gifts to be distributed at the party were in the kitchen。
There were paper sacks of groceries and clothing； all
marked with a red Christmas card。 Anyone who cared to
come was invited to the party； but those who meant to
attend had stopped by the house and written （or had asked
a friend to write） their names in a guest book kept on the
table in the hall for that purpose。 The sacks were piled on
the floor。 There were about forty of them； each one
depending in size on the need of the receiver。 Some gifts
were only small packages of nuts or raisins and others
were boxes almost too heavy for a man to lift The kitchen
was crowded with good things。 Doctor Copeland stood in
the doorway and his nostrils quivered with pride。
1 think you done right well this year。 Folks certainly have
been kindly。'
Tshaw！' he said。 This is not a hundredth part of what is
needed。'
。Now； there you go； Father！ I know good and well you just
as pleased as you can be。 But you don't want to show it。
You got to find something to grumble about。 Here we
haves about four pecks of peas； twenty sacks of meaL
about fifteen pounds of side meat； mullet； six dozen eggs；
plenty grits； jars of tomatoes and peaches。 Apples and two
dozen oranges。 Also garments。 And two mattresses and four
blankets。 I call this something！'
'A drop in the bucket