“Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. “They’re all doing great. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. ” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. ” John greeted him. What I said about your brat was all stuff. Beneath these prints, a cluster of hobnails, driven into the wall, formed certain letters, which, if properly deciphered, produced the words, "Paul Groves, cobler;" and under the name, traced in charcoal, appeared the following record of the poor fellow's fate, "Hung himsel in this rum for luv off licker;" accompanied by a graphic sketch of the unhappy suicide dangling from a beam. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. General Lord Charvill disinherited him for his pains.
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