In all such efforts I have received warm and hearty support from the Southern newspapers, as well as from those in all other parts of the country.
Despite superficial and temporary signs which might lead one to entertain a contrary opinion, there was never a time when I felt more hopeful for the race than I do at the present.

The great human law that in the end recognizes and rewards merit is everlasting and universal.
The outside world does not know, neither can it appreciate, the struggle that is constantly going on in the hearts of both the Southern white people and their former slaves to free themselves from racial prejudice; and while both races are thus struggling they should have the sympathy, the support, and the forbearance of the rest of the world.
As I write the closing words of this autobiography I find myself--not by design--in the city of Richmond, Virginia: the city which only a few decades ago was the capital of the Southern Confederacy, and where, about twenty-five years ago, because of my poverty I slept night after night under a sidewalk.
This time I am in Richmond as the guest of the coloured people of the city; and came at their request to deliver an address last night to both races in the Academy of Music, the largest and finest audience room in the city.

This was the first time that the coloured people had ever been permitted to use this hall.

The day before I came, the City Council passed a vote to attend the meeting in a body to hear me speak.

The state Legislature, including the House of Delegates and the Senate, also passed a unanimous vote to attend in a body.