” He beamed upon her. How different were his present feelings compared with those he had experienced on quitting it. "My sight is failing me. 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. The dog was, in a sense, a gift of the gods. I suppose that shocks one’s ideas.
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