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The scrutiny of
any strange man provoked a sweaty terror. Death belongs to God, young
man. G. This morning he heard voices—McClintock's and the Wastrel's. As for that, what man ever
had?
"That's a remarkable young woman," he offered, merely to note what effect it
would have. 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. Well, it had to happen
somewhen. He fended these things off from him with the
rump of his fourth piece of cake.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 26-06-2024 17:58:48