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. Captain Roding strode into the parlour. It was too good to be true. “You are afraid,” she said, “that the young man who thinks that he is my husband has upset me. I'll call it my wedding gift.
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