According to the Daily Chronicle, "an American professor is looking forward to the time when cooking and dining shall become lost arts, and we shall take our sustenance in the form of tablets of concentrated things." Our esteemed contemporary appears to think that such a system would necessarily do away with all conviviality and social intercourse; but, unless Mr. Punch's clairvoyant is liable to error (which is absurd), we need not take quite so gloomy a view of the future. People will still entertain, only the dinner of the next century will be a more economical and less tedious function, and, instead of having to go through a trying interview with her cook, the coming hostess will merely look in at the nearest food chemist's, when some such conversation as the following will settle the whole business.

Hostess. We've some people coming in to take a few tablets with us this evening; what do you think I'd better have?

The Food Chemist. You will require soup, of course, madam. I could send you one of these patent soup-sprinklers, exceedingly simple to work, and quite the fashion in the highest circles: the butler sprays each guest before showing them upstairs. We supply the machine, charged with the very best soup, at ninepence a night.

Hostess. No, I don't want anything fussy, it's quite an informal little gathering. An ounce of those mock-turtle jujubes at fourpence I had last time will do very well.

The F. C. Very good, madam. Then, with regard to fish? I can strongly recommend these bi-carbonate of cod and oyster sauce lozenges, or I have some sulphate of salmon and cucumber pastilles, that I think you would like, ninepence the quarter-of-a-pound.

Hostess. I'm afraid I mustn't be extravagant. I'll take a small bottle of condensed smelt tabloids (the sixpenny size), and what are left will come in nicely for the children's dinner next day.

The F. C. Precisely so, madam. And as to entrÉes—will you have cockscomb cachous or sweetbread pilules?

Hostess. It makes such a long dinner. I don't want a lot of things.

The F. C. In that case, madam, I think I have the very article—a most elegant electro-chemical preparation, combining entrÉe, joint, and bird, with just a trace of vegetable matter, put up in small capsules, at one and elevenpence halfpenny the box of one dozen.

Hostess. That would be cheaper than having each course in separate tablets, wouldn't it? I think I'll try a box. What wonderful improvements they bring out nowadays, to be sure!

The F. C. They do indeed, madam. I am told that the Concentrated Food Stores will shortly be able to place on the market a series of graduated wafers, each containing a complete dinner, from a City banquet to a cutlet, at prices to correspond with the number of courses required.

Hostess. Delightful! And then the most expensive dinners will be all over in a minute, instead of dragging on to ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, as I've known them to do sometimes! I've often thought what a pity it is that we waste so much precious time as we do in merely supplying our bodily wants.

The F. C. We are improving, madam, slowly improving. And what about sweets, cheese, and savouries?

Hostess. I might have one of those two-inch blocks of condensed apple-tart, and a box of cheese pills—no savouries. You see, it's only a family party!

The F. C. Exactly so, madam. And shall you be needing anything in the way of stimulants?

Hostess. Let me see—you may send me in a couple of ounces of acidulated champagne drops—the Australian quality, not the French, they're twopence an ounce dearer, and so few people notice the difference nowadays, do they?

The F. C. (to himself). Not until the next morning! (Aloud.) And liqueurs? Any brandy-balls with the coffee creams? We have some very fine essence-of-dessert jellies——. Hostess Nothing more, thank you. (To herself as she departs.) I'm sure I've spent quite enough as it is on John's stingy old relations, who never ask us to have so much as a lunch-lozenge or a tea-tabloid with them!

Lady of uncertain age (discussing dinner party). No, I cannot say it was very complimentary; they gave me to an archÆologist to take down.

Would-be Considerate Hostess (to son of the house). "How inattentive you are, John! You really must look after Mr. Brown. He's helping himself to everything!"

[Discomfiture of Brown, who, if somewhat shy, is conscious of a very healthy appetite.