"Go to the pump, Nab," he said, when this was done, "and fill a pail with water. Capes looked at one and not over one, spoke to one, treated one as a visible concrete fact. Then Capes shifted his eyes to her microscope and the little trays of unmounted sections beside it. 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. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. In this state Mrs. He has a way of sitting on people.
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