’ Saling coughed. Gerald sighed. ’—he’s frightfully anti-Mendelian—having it all their own way. The books would be soaked and ruined in the rain anyway through the thin skin of the pack. 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. Wood bore up with great fortitude against the shock, attended the inquest, delivered his evidence with composure, and gave directions afterwards for the funeral, which took place on the day but one following—Sunday. Sir John felt that after all forty-five was not so very old. “My sister is sure to be out.
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