” He closed the door of 109 in her face. Now, he must have folks somewhere. F. "I've seen him some years ago, I believe," answered Wood; "and, though he must be much changed by this time, I dare say I should know him again. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. “But I must, I will,” he answered fiercely. She danced with two others. Her eyes quizzed the major. 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.
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