When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better. He did not speak for a moment. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. ‘Good God! Everett Charvill, as I live.
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