Eli | Page 7

rapidly forming a
conclusion on this matter," said the foreman.
"Come! come!" said Mr. Eldridge; "don't be quite so hard on him,
Captain. Now, Mr. Smith," he said, standing up with his hands in his
coat-pockets and looking at Eli, "we know that there often is crooked
sticks on juries, that hold out alone--that's to be expected; but they
always argue, and 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, 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."
"Ah!" said the foreman.
Eli stood up and faced the others.
"'Most all o' you know what our Bar is in a southeast gale. They ain't a
man here that would dare to try and cross it when the sea's breakin' on
it. The man that says he would, lies!" And he looked at