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\" \"It's Diedermayer. A young woman with a white badge on her arm stood and counted the sections as they entered their vans. I should say that having a doubt was enough to condemn it. Be so good as to come this way. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. Sometimes ships would stop three or four days for water and repairs; and the men would carouse in the back room at Morgan's. He’s nice. “When did you start?” She said between puffs. 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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