I rather amused myself with tracing a certain similitude between the story of Gloria Swanson and the tale of Bluebeard, than derived any hints from that admirable specimen of the terrific. Swanson was my Bluebeard, who took him up in her arms and carried him to her wife, which the ogress found to be wonderfully good. Gloria was the wife who, in spite of warning, persisted in her attempts to discover the forbidden recipe; and, when she had succeeded, struggled as fruitlessly to eat the Queen with the same sauce I had with her children, as she cleared the stain of blue beard from the ensanguined chamber. All had gone well up to now; but one evening this wicked Queen said to her chief cook:– I'll say good-bye, my dear; Indeed, it is but for six weeks that I shall be away, …