different. We have
specimens of the respectable devil in the "long-legged bondholder" who
appears to his unfortunate Dutch debtor; the portly, well-dressed little
man in the "Gentleman in black"; and the seedy looking old clothes
dealer of "Peter Schlemihl." Quite a different devil to any of these is
the devil that interviews St. Nicholas, the devil whom St. Medard
circumvented, or the simple-minded and unfortunate devil that fell into
the clutches of St. Dunstan. This last is probably the most comical
_diabolique_ that Cruikshank ever designed. In an evil hour this
miserable fiend had irritated the saint by mimicking his musical powers;
and growing bolder with impunity, even ventured to challenge his skill
as a mechanic, by doubting his ability to fit a shoe to his own
diabolical hoof. The saint promptly whipped up the leg, and it was not
until this simple devil found himself in the clutches of the saint, that
he fully comprehended the prodigious powers of the holy personage he had
ventured to chaff. In spite of his howls and frantic efforts to escape,
the iron shoe is remorselessly fitted, and nail after nail driven into
the quick. Imagine the sufferings of that poor devil; observe his
comically distorted countenance as he bellows with agony and impotent
rage; how his tail curls round his leg in the extremity of his anguish!
The worst perhaps has to follow, for in spite of the agony of his
crippled hoof, a deed will have to be "signed, sealed, and delivered,"
by which his claim to a legion of sinful souls has to be for ever
released and extinguished. It is worthy of remark that George
Cruikshank's devils--simple-minded, weak creatures, more mischievous
than really wicked, in all their contests with the saints (Saint Anthony
excepted) invariably come off second best.

In estimating his merits, the genius of George Cruikshank may not
inaptly be compared to a diamond. One facet often emits more brilliant
coruscations than any other; and if we may be permitted to compare his
powers of realizing the grave, the comical, the supernatural, and the
terrible to the facets of a diamond, we think the one which would be
found to emit the most brilliant flashes of light would be the last.
Thackeray, one of the most friendly and most competent of his critics,
would seem to have considered that much of his power was shown in
depicting subjects of this kind. "What a fine eye," he tells us, in his
famous article which has supplied the