I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. She had never before heard the noise of firecrackers, and in the beginning the sputtering racket caused her to wince. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. 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.
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