contain something, that, in a court of justice, will be construed into an acknowledgment of the entire claim. In paying off old accounts that the law has canceled, which we think every man should do if in his power, the acknowledgment of indebtedness never need go further than the amount paid at any time. Beyond this, no creditor who does not wish to oppress, will ask a man to go. If any seek a further revival of the old claim, let the debtor beware of them; and also, let him be on his guard against him who, in any way, alludes either in writing or personally, to the previous indebtedness. But we have digressed far enough. Mr. Jenkins, we are sorry to say, was not of that class of debtors who never consider an obligation morally canceled. The law once on his side, he fully made up his mind to keep it forever between him and all former transactions. Sundry were the attempts made to get old claims against him revived, after it was clearly understood that he was getting to be worth money, but Jenkins was a rogue at least, and rogues are always more wary than honest men. Among the creditors of Jenkins was a man named Gooding, who had loaned him five hundred dollars, and lost three hundred of it—two-fifths being all that was realized from the debtor’s effects. Gooding pitied sincerely the misfortunes of Jenkins, and pocketed his loss without saying a hard word, or laying the weight of a finger upon his already too heavily burdened shoulders. But it so happened that as Jenkins commenced going up in the world, Gooding began to go down. At the time when the former was clearly worth ten thousand dollars, he was hardly able to get money enough to pay his quarterly rent bills. Several times he thought of calling the attention of his old debtor to the balance still against him, which, as it was for borrowed money, ought certainly to be paid. But it was an unpleasant thing to remind a friend of an old obligation, and Gooding, for a time, chose to bear his troubles, as the least disagreeable of the two alternatives. At last, however, difficulties pressed so hard upon him, that he forced himself to the task. Both he and Jenkins lived about three quarters of a mile distant from their places of business, in a little village beyond the suburbs of the city. Gooding was lame, and used to ride to and from his store in a small wagon, which was used for sending home goods during the day. Jenkins usually walked into town in the morning, and home in the evening. It not unfrequently happened that Gooding overtook the latter, while riding home after business hours, when he always invited him to take a seat by his side, which invitation was never declined. They were riding home in this way one evening, when Gooding, after clearing his throat two or three times, said, with a slight faltering in his voice,