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The brown house, almost exactly the same as the Beck’s, turned black as pitch in the gloom. 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. I can’t. "I tell 'ee what, master, if you're more fortinate nor I am, and get ashore, give old saltwater your fare. The cloth nearly touches the floor. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Not like my father. ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. ‘Here, miss,’ came faintly from somewhere close at hand. " "What do you think of my sketch, Jack?" said Hogarth, handing him the drawing. Part 7 “And what are you doing here, young lady,” he said, looking up at her face, “wandering alone so far from home?” “I like long walks,” said Ann Veronica, looking down on him.

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