“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, or such--and some man in-corrupted him, and lied; and bein' in gre't haste--and a little old Adam in him--he says, right off, quick: '_All_ men are liars!' But see! When he gits a little time to set back and meditate, he says: 'Dis won' do--dere's Moses an' Job, an' Paul--dey ain't liars!' An' den he don' sneak out, and 'low he said, 'All men is lions,' or such. No! de Psalmist ain't no such man; but he owns up, 'an 'xplains. '_In my haste_,' he says, 'I said it.'” The foreman rose and rapped. “I await a motion,” said he, “if our friend will allow me the privilege of speaking.” Mr. Washington calmly bowed. Then the foreman, when nobody seemed disposed to move, speaking slowly at first, and piecemeal, alternating language with smoke, gradually edged into the current of the evidence, and ended by going all over it again, with fresh force and point. His cigar glowed and chilled in the darkening room as he talked. “Now,” he said, when he had drawn all the threads together to the point of guilt, “what are we going to do upon this evidence?” “I 'll tell you something,” said Eli. “I did n't want to say it because I know what you 'll all think, but I 'll tell you, all the same.”