THE FEAST OF REASON UP TO DATE.

The old Alchemist smiled as he watched the crucible on the glowing
coals. The fumes rose, and he inhaled them with delight.

It was a triumph. Yes, he was able to go forth a conqueror. It mattered
not where he wandered, for all flew from before him. He seemed to
possess some subtle power that no one understood, but which was
all-conquering. After a lengthened absence he returned to England.

At his Club he met one of his friends--a doctor.

"I will tell you my adventures," said the old Alchemist, lighting a
strong cigar. "You must know----"

"I know everything," said the Physician, sternly. "I know why you have
scared the Arabs, and why disease cannot touch you. The secret is
revealed by a recent _Lancet_. You can brave disease and death, because
_you are fond of eating onions_!"

Seeing that his secret was known, the old Alchemist heaved a heavy sigh,
and disappeared, perchance for ever!

* * * * *

[Illustration: A PRIME CUT.

_Mrs. Fidget_ (_who has been fingering all the Joints for some time_).
"CAN YOU GUARANTEE THIS TO BE WELSH MUTTON?"

_Butcher's Assistant._ "CERTAINLY WE CAN, MUM; BUT IF YOU GO 'ANDLING IT
MUCH LONGER, IT'LL BE _IRISH STOO_ DIRECTLY!"]

* * * * *

THE PLEA OF THE POSTMAN.

All work and no play
Makes a dull boy; so they say,
Proverb-mongers, pretty bards.
"All play," may be, worse I'll bet 'em!
If they doubt my word, then let 'em
Try _my_ hand at (Christmas) Cards!

_Punch in reply._

True for you! You growl with reason.
Hearts are trumps, and at this season,
Pray remember, Goldylocks,
When your cards arrive in flocks,
Postman earns _his_ Christmas Box!

* * * * *

"REDE ME ARIGHT!"--SIR EDWARD REED, M.P., is anything but a "bruised
reed." On the contrary. More correct would it be to describe him as A
Bruiser Reed, for his plucky encounter with his adversaries, over whom
he triumphed by "A Vast Majority."

* * * * *

[Illustration]

"Tinned Dinners."

_A propos_ of an interesting article in the _Daily Telegraph_ last
Thursday on this subject, the problem that most naturally suggests
itself is, "How about the dinner, if you haven't any tin?" "No Song, No
Supper" is pleasantly alliterative, but is not of universal application.
"No tin, no dinner," may pass into a proverb, but, a