arms and legs shackled, is faintly seen, kneeling before an altar. There is heard the low monotony of a prayer. White faces peer through the dark windows showing increased satisfaction at every word.
"Lord, have pity on me!From my soul's depth I speakIt is truth You hearAlthough my words have a strange sound—For I am the American Negro!I am a man apart . . . ."
A mist falls over the faces at the windows. A strong white light plays on the kneeling giant's features. The jangle of the shackles on his arms beats a tom-tom rhythm to the words that come first slowly and deliberately, and then more quickly from his mouth.
"I, the American Negro, am a rainbow race, a kaleidoscopic breed found only in this land.In my veins runs the blood of Caucasian Europe and of the Indians of America for my slave women were tempting to their white masters and my men came to the New World with Cortes.In me is a monstrous union of many African tribes . . . tribes who were mortal enemies in the deep green jungles of the great dark continent.Yet I do not value my savage ancestry for my white folk tell me black Africa has given nothing to civilization . . . my historians sing of the golden glories of the ancient empires . . . of Mandingo,
