(_Two Views of the Same Subject._) POSSIBLE ROMANCE. SCENE--_A Dungeon beneath the Castle Moat. Wife chained to a post, with bread and water beside her. Enter Husband, with cat-o'-nine-tails._ _Husband._ And now, after ten days' seclusion, will you make over your entire property to me, signing the deed with your life's blood? _Wife_ (_in a feeble voice_). Never! You may kill me, but I will defy you to the last! _Husband._ Then die! [_He is about to leave the dungeon, when he is met by a Messenger from the Court of Appeal._ _Messenger._ In the name of the Law, release your prisoner! _Husband._ Foiled! [_Joy of_ Wife, _and tableau, as the Curtain falls._ PROBABLE REALITY. SCENE--_The Church-door of a fashionable Church. Wife bidding adieu to Husband._ _Husband._ Surely, now that my name and fortune are yours, you will reconsider your decision, and at least accompany me back to our wedding breakfast? _Wife_ (_in a firm voice_). Never! You may kill me, but I will defy you to the last! _Husband._ This is rank nonsense! You must take my arm. [_He is about to leave the Church-porch, when he is met by a Messenger from the Court of Appeal._ _Messenger._ In the name of the Law, release your prisoner! _Husband._ Sold! [_Joy of Wife, and tableau, as the Curtain falls._ * * * * * "WHAT'S IN A NAME?" The "Cony" is feeble, the Bear's a rough bore. But CONYBEARE'S both, and perhaps a bit more! * * * * * [Illustration: SMART NEW BOY IN CLOAK-ROOM HAS NOTED GENTLEMEN SHUTTING UP THEIR CRUSH HATS, AND PROMPTLY FLATTENS DE JONES'S BEST SILK TOPPER!] * * * * * [Illustration] THE OTHER MAN. My health is good, I know no pain, I am not married to a wife; From all accounts I'm fairly sane, And yet I'm sick to death of life. The path that leads to wealth and fame Cannot be traversed in a day; I find it twice as hard a game, Because a spectre bars the way. It has no terrors such as his Away from which the children ran; It's not the Bogey, but it _is_ The Other Man. I met a girl, she seemed to be A kind of vision from above. She wasn't--but, alas! for me, I weakly went and fell in love. Her father was a _millionnaire_, Which didn't make me love her less. I thought her quite beyond compare, And gave long odds she'd answer "Yes." She thrilled me with each lovely look She gave me from behind her fan, She took my heart, and then she took-- The Other Man. Farewell to Love! I thought I'd try My level best to get a post; The salary was not too high, Two hundred pounds a-year at most. Committeemen in conclave sat, Their questions all were cut and dried: Oh, was I this? And did I that? And twenty thousand things beside--