Then he considered his past life. He remembered his wedding-day, when it seemed so bright and fair. He was a happy husband, with every prospect of a long life of wedded bliss. He loved and respected his wife, and felt that side by side they could travel along the road of existence without a rock to arrest their progress, without a discordant note to spoil the harmony of their song, until that song had ceased its music in the hush of silence. Tears, suppressed until now, flooded his eyes as he remembered the waning of the honeymoon. He recollected the anxiety of ALICE to get back to town, to be off into the City. Of course he could not follow his wife into her business haunts; it would be immodest--nay, even improper. Still, he had been treated kindly, in a rough, condescending sort of way. He had had a Brougham, and had been allowed to visit his gentlemen friends. He had plenty of chats, and occasionally ALICE had accompanied him round the park. Then he had seen a good deal of his children. His daughter, however, had now gone to school, and his sons were always with their nursery tutor. The clock struck once again. "Three, and not home yet!" Early morning was breaking. The poor man, pale and careworn, re-arranged his necktie, and putting on an extra overcoat, prepared once more to resume the reading of a novel that had been attracting his attention earlier in the evening. It was called "_Bobby_," and related the adventures of a wild, thoughtless man, who was setting the laws of society at open defiance. "How can men write of men like this?" he murmured. "I am not surprised that women think badly of us when we thus paint ourselves. Visiting a music-hall with his female cousin! Going to the Zoological Gardens unattended! Oh, BOBBY, BOBBY, what a creation!" Then he started. There was a noise at the street-door, and the sound of scraping on the outside as if a latch-key were vainly seeking the key-hole. Then the portal slowly opened and a cloaked figure lurched rather than walked in. "Oh ALICE!" cried the frightened husband, wringing his hands in dismay. "Is there anything the matter?" "Nothing, absolutely nothing," was the indistinct reply. "Fact is I don't think the salmon----" And then the new-comer entered the dining-room, and there was the sound of the effervescence of soda-water. The poor husband sighed, mournfully turned off the gas, and went quietly to bed. "Oh wife," murmured the aggrieved husband, as he mounted the stairs, "you cannot help bringing woe to man, for unless you did so you would not be a woe-man." And bursting into tears at this sad pleasantry, the poor chap disappeared into the darkness. * * * * * COINCIDENCE'S LONG ARM.