‘But a spy I am not. 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. . "Jack has been keeping bad company. Think if your own mother was alive!” He paused, deeply moved. "Every brick I take out," cried Jack, as fresh rubbish clattered down the chimney, "brings me nearer my mother.
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