ng year his thoroughly Bohemian friend, Edmund Kean,
was mulcted in L800 damages, in consequence of a disgraceful liaison
with the wife of Alderman Cox; and while audiences thronged the one
theatre to testify their sympathy for a favourite and popular actress,
they crowded the other to howl and hiss at the thoroughly disreputable
and disgraced tragedian. The episode is referred to by the artist in
three of his contemporary caricatures, labelled respectively, _Wolves
Triumphant, or a Fig for Public Opinion_; _A Scene from the Pantomime of
Cock-a-Doodle-Doo, lately performed at Drury Lane with unbounded
applause_; and the _Hostile Press, or Shakespeare in Danger_, all of
which contain perhaps the best theatrical portraits of the popular
tragedian which are extant.

Sir Walter Scott also figures in one of Robert's satires of this year
entitled, _The Great Unknown lately discovered in Ireland_, wherein he
is represented in Highland costume, with the Waverley novels on his
head, holding by the hand a small figure in hussar uniform, intended for
his son, Captain Scott of the 18th hussars, who this year had married
Miss Jobson, of Lochore. The pair after their marriage returned to
Ireland, where the captain was quartered, and where he and his wife were
visited by Sir Walter in August of this year. Although the fact was
pretty well known, the authorship of the novels was not avowed until
February of the following year, when with Sir Walter's consent it was
proclaimed by Lord Meadowbank at a theatrical dinner on the 27th of
February.

THE LIVING SKELETON.

A very curious personage makes his appearance in Robert's sketches of
this year, who would seem at first sight to be the most outrageously
caricatured of any of his subjects, and yet this in truth is not the
case. This person was the celebrated Claude Ambroise Seurat, "the living
skeleton," who was exhibited at the Chinese saloon in Pall Mall, and
whose portrait from three different points of view was taken by Robert
Cruikshank, and afterwards appeared in the first volume of Hone's
"Every-day Book," where a full account of this very singular personage
will be found. The repulsive object, who (with the exception of his
face) presented all the appearance of an attenuated skeleton, was
exhibited in a state of complete nudity with the exception of a fringe
of silk about his middle, from which (out of two holes cut for the
purpose) protruded his dreadful hip bones. Seurat, a