The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. 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. "We've heard coming and going. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. ” “Let me tell you the reason you are here. Pure romantic nonsense on her part.
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