d stand to it the rest are fools, and all that. Now,
all is, we don't see why you don't sort of argue, if you 've got reasons
satisfactory to you. Come, now," he added, walking up to Eli, and
resting one foot on the seat of his chair, "why don't you tell it over?
and if we 're wrong, I 'm ready to join you."

Eli looked up at him.

"Did n't you ever know," he said, "of a man's takin' a cat off, to lose,
that his little girl did n't want drownded, and leavin' him ashore,
twenty or thirty miles, bee-line, from home, and that cat's bein' back
again the next day, purrin' 'round 's if nothin' had happened?"

"Yes," said Mr. Eldridge--"knew of just such a case."

"Very well," said Eli; "how does he find his way home?"

"Don't know," said Mr. Eldridge; "always has been a standing mystery to
me."

"Well," said Eli, "mark my words. There's such a thing as arguin', and
there 's such a thing as knowin' outright; and when you 'll tell me
how that cat inquires his way home, I '11 tell you how I know John Wood
ain't guilty."

This made a certain sensation, and Eli's stock went up.

An old, withered man rapped on the table.

"That's so!" he said; "and there's other sing'lar things! How is it that
a seafarin' man, that 's dyin' to home, will allers die on the ebbtide?
It never fails, but how does it happen? Tell me that! And there's more
ways than one of knowin' things, too!"

"I know that man ain't guilty," said Eli.

"Hark ye!" said a dark old man with a troubled face, rising and pointing
his finger toward Eli. "_Know_, you say? I _knew_, wunst. I _knew_ that
my girl, my only child, was good. One night she went off with a married
man that worked in my store, and stole my money--and where is she now?"
And then he added, "What I _know_ is, that every man hes his price. I
hev mine, and you hev yourn!"

"'Xcuse me, Mr. Speaker," said George Washington, rising with his hand
in his bosom; "as de question is befo' us, I wish to say that de las'
bro' mus' have spoken under 'xcitement. Every man _don_' have his price!
An' I hope de bro' will recant--like as de Psalmist goes out o' his way
to say '_In my haste_ I said, All men are liars.' He was a very
busy man, de Psalmist--writin' down hymns all day, sharpen'n' his
lead-pencil, bossin' 'roun' de choir--callin' Selah! Well, bro'n an'
sisters "--both arms going out, and his voice going up--" one day,
seems like, he was in gre't haste--got to finish a psalm for a monthly
concert,