" "It is," answered Wood. 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. "Your father said so before you," replied Jonathan, malignantly; "and yet it has tarried thus long. ” Mr. To-morrow I am going to Paris. Ladies with weapon’s on ’em. To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. and Mrs.
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