“‘What say you for the defense, Mr. Rockland?’
“The iron lawyer waved his hand slowly toward the jury box, without looking up or uttering a word, and Mr. Crookwood took his seat.
“The next juror who answered was a coal-black negro, with large flat nose, flared nostrils, and a mouth extending from ear to ear, with a form measuring six feet three at least.
“‘What is your name?’
“‘Ebenezer, sah.’
“‘What is your Christian name?’
“‘Lord love your soul, boss, I iz no Christian nigger—I iz a stray sheep from de congregation!’
“‘Have you any other name besides Ebenezer?’
“‘Ah, you bet I has, boss—lots on ’em!’
“‘What are they?’