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Du Bois, W. E. B. (William Edward Burghardt), 1868-1963

"The Souls of Black Folk"

Daily he found
himself shrinking from the choked and narrow life of his
native town. And yet he always planned to go back to
Altamaha,--always planned to work there. Still, more and
more as the day approached he hesitated with a nameless
dread; and even the day after graduation he seized with
eagerness the offer of the Dean to send him North with the
quartette during the summer vacation, to sing for the Insti-
tute. A breath of air before the plunge, he said to himself in
half apology.
It was a bright September afternoon, and the streets of New
York were brilliant with moving men. They reminded John of
the sea, as he sat in the square and watched them, so change-
lessly changing, so bright and dark, so grave and gay. He
scanned their rich and faultless clothes, the way they carried
their hands, the shape of their hats; he peered into the hurry-
ing carriages. Then, leaning back with a sigh, he said, "This
is the World." The notion suddenly seized him to see where
the world was going; since many of the richer and brighter
seemed hurrying all one way. So when a tall, light-haired
young man and a little talkative lady came by, he rose half
hesitatingly and followed them.


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