“Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. "By desire of his Majesty," said the jailer, consequentially. 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. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. "My name is Darrell," said the fugitive hastily.
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