" "You'd better hold your peace, my lad," observed Jonathan, in a menacing tone. 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. ’ Chapter Ten ‘I am come on a mission of some delicacy, ma’am,’ Gerald said calmly to the old lady. “I liked him, and I never undeceived him. She complained of the crowded cities, dismayed that the people were repopulating them like rabbits. “It’s not.
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