She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. 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. They will claim particular attention hereafter. It gave her joy to see them laughing, even though she was unsure of what she had done wrong. He stood on the top step for a moment, lost in deep thought. He's a Welshman, and I wouldn't for a trifle that any accident befel him.
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