After his friends had
left, he found on his desk a small uninscribed package which had
apparently been left by accident. He opened it. Inside was a beautiful
leather box showing his initials in gold. And within the box was a small
bronze placque exquisitely engraved by a master-artist . . . bearing a
message of appreciation exquisitely phrased . . . the names of all his
friends. I know of no incident more typical of the taste and the humor
with which the Native Son performs every social function. That sense of
humor does not lessen but it lightens the gallantry and chivalry which
is the earmark of Westerners. It makes for that natural perfection of
manners which is also typical of the Native Son,
Touching the matter of their manners . . . A woman writer I know very
well once went to a boxing-match in San Francisco. Women are forbidden
to attend such events, so that a special permission had to be obtained
for her. She was warned beforehand that the audience might manifest its
disapproval in terms both audible and uncomplimentary. She entered the
arena in considerable trepidation of spirit. It was an important match -
for the lightweight championship of the world. She occupied a ring-side
box where, it is likely, everybody saw her.
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