We're two good-looking fellows, ain't we?" "Very good-looking," replied Rachel. But, as this produced no effect, and did not even elicit a groan, the prisoner was carried back to Newgate. Michelle laughed, saying that she could only guess. She shot a sudden glance at him. 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. Wood, by whom it was formerly occupied. Oh God! pardon me. Aunt Jane had her quiet moments.
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