_Nervous Gentleman_ (_to two sisters_). "I've got to take one of you in to dinner. A--a--let me see--a--which is the elder?"] * * * * * [Illustration: THINGS ONE WOULD RATHER HAVE LEFT UNSAID _Jones_ (_to hostess, famous for her dinners_). "Oh, by the way, Mrs. Hodgkinson, if you should happen to want a really good cook, I know of one who would suit you to a T!"] * * * * * [Illustration: THE RULING PASSION STRONG AT DINNER _Laconic Waiter_ (_thoroughly familiar with sporting Major's taste in champagne_). "Seventy-four, sir?" _Sporting Major_ (_down on his luck, after a bad week at Newmarket_). "Seven-to-four, sir! Dash it! wouldn't take ten to one about anything!"] * * * * * [Illustration: CAUSE AND _Host_ (_to coachman, who is turned on as butler on grand occasions_). "I want you to see that all my guests enjoy themselves, Coggledab. Don't let them have to ask for anything. Be particularly attentive to my dear aunt, Mrs. Dumbledock!"] * * * * * [Illustration: EFFECT _Coggledab_ (_in a stage-whisper, during a lull in the conversation, to Mrs. Dumbledock, who has recently joined the Blue Ribbon Army._) "'Ollands, whiskey, or cog-nack, mum? You can't be enjy-in' of yourself. _You're not drinkin'!_" [_Mrs. Dumbledock alters her will the next day_] * * * * * A LITTLE DINNER OF THE FUTURE _A Forecast by Mr. Punch's Own Clairvoyant_ 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.