JACK was going, that night, to his club-rooms,

Valises and bandbox he bore;

"Theatrical night" he informed me

As he hastily slammed to the door.

So I, left alone for the evening,

Drew a chair to the side of the fire,

Took a well-colored pipe and "Ik Marvel" -

What more could a fellow desire?

I leisurely read through the chapters

Entitled "Smoke, Ashes, and Flame,"

Then in gloom, save the glow of the embers,

I, too, built my castles in Spain.

First, a snug little nest in the country

With roses and ivy entwined,

Then a wife in whose exquisite nature

The Muses and Graces combined.

Next - But here the door swings softly inward,

And a woman's form enters the room.

"Who art thou?" I gasp out to the vision,

As it silently glides through the gloom.

O'er the face of the mystic intruder

Comes Jack's well-remembered broad grin,

And he says, "Cut the strings of these corsets,

Will you, Tom, for they pinch me like sin."