After a while, he raised his eyes; and, if their glance could have been witnessed at the moment, it could not have been easily forgotten. 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. Rousing himself, he went to the door. Are you sure you haven't mistaken the ward, Mr. “There are two things to be done,” he said softly to himself.
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