Volume 103 — 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!

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!"