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. Suddenly he burst into wild laughter; but equally as suddenly something strangled the sound in his throat. I am no use for a clerk, because I do not understand shorthand. There was a confused impression of livery carriages and whips with white favors, people fussily wanting other people to get in before them, and then the church. There was a tearing sound and the cloth of her habit ripped apart as the smothered point drove through it, missing its intended target. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. And now let's go back to the Shovels, and finish our brandewyn and bier, Muntmeester.
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