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. It was a night of storm and terror, which promised each moment to become more stormy and more terrible. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. “There are policemen—and buses. You observe that I am, as usual, fairly cheerful, and moderately amiable. " "Are you friendly toward him?" asked McClintock, passing a fine cigar across the table. "Fox-terriers of the sea; friends with every ship that comes along. You're always complaining that you can't keep anybody more than three months.
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