“Could your father read?”

“The old gentleman was mighty handy at that, sir.”

Mr. Braham submitted that the man was disqualified Judge thought not. 
Point argued.  Challenged peremptorily, and set aside.

Ethan Dobb, cart-driver.

“Can you read?”

“Yes, but haven’t a habit of it.”

“Have you heard of this case?”

“I think so—­but it might be another.  I have no opinion about it.”

Dist.  A.  “Tha—­tha—­there!  Hold on a bit?  Did anybody tell you to say you had no opinion about it?”

“N—­n—­o, sir.”

Take care now, take care.  Then what suggested it to you to volunteer that remark?”

“They’ve always asked that, when I was on juries.”

All right, then.  Have you any conscientious scruples about capital punishment?”

“Any which?”

“Would you object to finding a person guilty—­of murder on evidence?”

“I might, sir, if I thought he wan’t guilty.”

The district attorney thought he saw a point.

“Would this feeling rather incline you against a capital conviction?”

The juror said he hadn’t any feeling, and didn’t know any of the parties.  Accepted and sworn.

Dennis Lafin, laborer.  Have neither formed nor expressed an opinion.  Never had heard of the case.  Believed in hangin’ for them that deserved it.  Could read if it was necessary.

Mr. Braham objected.  The man was evidently bloody minded.  Challenged peremptorily.

Larry O’Toole, contractor.  A showily dressed man of the style known as “vulgar genteel,” had a sharp eye and a ready tongue.  Had read the newspaper reports of the case, but they made no impression on him.  Should be governed by the evidence.  Knew no reason why he could not be an impartial juror.

Question by District Attorney.

“How is it that the reports made no impression on you?”

“Never believe anything I see in the newspapers.”

(Laughter from the crowd, approving smiles from his Honor and Mr. Braham.) Juror sworn in.  Mr. Braham whispered to O’Keefe, “that’s the man.”

Avery Hicks, pea-nut peddler.  Did he ever hear of this case?  The man shook his head.

“Can you read?”

“No.”  “Any scruples about capital punishment?”

“No.”

He was about to be sworn, when the district attorney turning to him carelessly, remarked,

“Understand the nature of an oath?”

“Outside,” said the man, pointing to the door.

“I say, do you know what an oath is?”

“Five cents,” explained the man.

“Do you mean to insult me?” roared the prosecuting officer.  “Are you an idiot?”

“Fresh baked.  I’m deefe.  I don’t hear a word you say.”

The man was discharged.  “He wouldn’t have made a bad juror, though,” whispered Braham.  “I saw him looking at the prisoner sympathizingly.  That’s a point you want to watch for.”