But let that verse tell my secret. " "Save us!" exclaimed Wood. ” Miss Stanley turned to her. Not fit to be dust on your boots. She could not realize what she saw. 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. “Queer letters he writes,” she said. "Tell me that, and I will believe you. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. Run away now, please. It heralded you, promised you. If I did not love you en désespoir, I would assuredly blow off your head. She put back her hood in a determined way. The Kanaka— which means man—is a Sandwich Islander, with a Malayan base. ‘That’s what comes of disarming yourself.
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