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blankets。 I call this something！'
'A drop in the bucket。'
Portia pointed to a large box in the corner。 These here —what
you intend to do with them？'
The box contained nothing but junk—a headless doll； some
duty lace； a rabbitskin。 Doctor Copeland scrutinized each
article。 'Do not throw them away。 There is use for everything。
These are the gifts from our guests who have nothing better to
contribute。 I will find some purpose for them later。'158
〃Then suppose you look over these here boxes and sacks so I
can commence to tie them up。 There ain't going to be room
here in the kitchen。 Time they all pile in for the refreshments。
I just going to put these here presents out on the back steps
and in the yard。'
The morning sun had risen。 The day would be bright and cold。
In the kitchen there were rich； sweet odors。 A dishpan of
coffee was on the stove and iced cakes filled a shelf in the
cupboard。
'And none of this comes from white people。 All from colored。'
'No；' said Doctor Copeland。 'That is not wholly true。 Mr。
Singer contributed a check for twelve dollars to be used for
coal。 And I have invited him to be present today。' 'Holy Jesus！'
Portia said。 'Twelve dollars！' 'I felt that it was proper to ask
him。 He is not like other people of the Caucasian race。'
'You right；' Portia said。 'But I keep thinking about my Willie。 I
sure do wish he could enjoy this here party today。 And I sure
do wish I could get a letter from him。 It just prey on my mind。
But here！ Us got to quit this here talking and get ready。 It
mighty near time for the party to come。'
Time enough remained。 Doctor Copeland washed and clothed
himself carefully。 For a while he tried to rehearse what he
would say when the people had all come。 But expectation and
restlessness would not let him concentrate。 Then at ten o'clock
the first guests arrived and within half an hour they were all
assembled。
'Joyful Christmas to you！' said John Roberts； the postman。 He
moved happily about the crowded room； one shoulder held
higher than the other； mopping his face with a white silk
handkerchief。
'Many happy returns of the day！' The front of the house was
thronged。 Guests were blocked at the door and they formed
groups on the front porch and in the yard。 There was no
pushing or rudeness； the turmoil was orderly。 Friends called
out to each other and strangers were introduced and clasped
hands。 Children and young people clotted together and moved
back toward the kitchen。 'Christmas gift！'
159
Doctor Copeland stood in the center of the front room by the
tree。 He was dizzy。 He shook hands and answered salutations
with confusion。 Personal gifts； some tied elaborately with
ribbons and others wrapped in newspapers； were thrust into
his hands。 He could find no place to put them。 The air
thickened and voices grew louder。 Faces whirled about him so
that he could recognize no one。 His composure returned to
him gradually。 He found space to lay aside the presents in his
arms。 The dizziness lessened； the room cleared。 He settled his
spectacles and began to look around him。
'Merry Christmas！ Merry Christmas！' There was Marshall
Nicolls； the pharmacist； in a long…tailed coat； conversing with
his son…in…law who worked on a garbage truck。 The preacher
from the Most Holy Ascension Church had come。 And two
deacons from other churches。 Highboy； wearing a loud
checked suit； moved sociably through the crowd。 Husky young
dandies bowed to young women in long； bright…colored
dresses。 There were mothers with children and deliberate old
men who spat into gaudy handkerchiefs。 The room was warm
and
noisy。
Mr。 Singer stood in the doorway。 Many people stared at him。
Doctor Copeland could not remember if he had welcomed him
or not。 The mute stood by himself。 His face resembled
somewhat a picture of Spinoza。 A Jewish face。 It was good to
see him。
The doors and the windows were open。 Draughts blew
through the room so that the fire roared。 The noises quieted。
The seats were all filled and the young people sat in rows on
the floor。 The hall； the porch； even the yard were crowded
with silent guests。 The time had come for him to speak—and
what was he to say？ Panic tightened his throat。 The room
waited。 At a sign from John Roberts all sounds were hushed。
'My People；' began Doctor Copeland blankly。 There was a
pause。 Then suddenly the words came to him。
'This is the nineteenth year that we have gathered together in
this room to celebrate Christmas Day。 When our people first
heard of the birth of Jesus Christ it was a dark time。 Our
people were sold as slaves in this town on the courthouse
square。 Since then we have heard and told the160
story of His life more times than we could remember。 So
today our story will be a different one。
'One hundred and twenty years ago another man was born in
the country that is known as Germany—a country far across
the Atlantic Ocean。 This man understood as did Jesus。 But his
thoughts were not concerned with Heaven or the future of the
dead。 His mission was for the living。 For the great masses of
human beings who work and suffer and work until they die。
For people who take in washing and work as cooks； who pick
cotton and work at the hot dye vats of the factories。 His
mission was for us； and the name of this man was Karl Marx。
'Karl Marx was a wise man。 He studied and worked and
understood the world around him。 He said that the world was
divided into two classes； the poor and the rich。 For every rich
man there were a thousand poor people who worked for this
rich man to make him richer。 He did not divide the world into
Negroes or white people or Chinese—to Karl Marx it seemed
that being one of the millions of poor people or one of the few
rich was more important to a man than the color of his skin。
The life mission of Karl Marx was to make all human beings
equal and to divide the great wealth of the world so that there
would be no poor or rich and each person would have his
share。 This is one of the commandments Karl Marx left to us：
〃From each according to his ability； to each according to his
needs。〃'
A wrinkled； yellow palm waved timidly from the halL Were
he the Mark in the Bible？'
Doctor Copeland explained。 He spelled the two names and
cited dates。 'Are there any more questions？ I wish each one of
you to feel free to start or enter into any discussion。'
'I presume Mr。 Marx was a Christian church man？' asked the
preacher。
'He believed in the holiness of the human spirit*
'Were he a white man？'
'Yes。 But he did not think of himself as a white man。 He said；
〃I consider nothing human as alien to myself。〃 He thought of
himself as a brother to all people。'
Doctor Copeland paused a moment longer。 The faces around
him were waiting。
〃What is the value of any piece of property； of any
merchandise we buy in a store？ The value depends only on
one thing—and that is the work it took to make or to raise this
article。 Why does a brick house cost more than a cabbage？
Because the work of many men goes into the making of one
brick h