asionally

1 Luke Clennell--This unfortunate artist, a native of
Morpeth, in Northumberland, and known to the world as an
eminent engraver on wood, as well as a painter of no
ordinary talent, has furnished one of those cases of human
distress and misery which calls for the sympathy and aid of
every friend to forlorn genius. In the midst of a
prosperous career, with fortune "both hands full," smiling
on every side, munificently treated by the British
Institution, employed on an important work by the Earl of
Bridgewater (a picture of the Fete given by the City of
London to the Allied Sovereigns,) and with no prospect but
that delightful one of fame and independence, earned by his
own exertions, the most dreadful affliction of life befel
him, and insanity rooted where taste and judgment so
conspicuously shone. The wretched artist was of necessity
separated from his family; his young wife, the mother of his
three infants, descended to the grave a broken-hearted
victim, leaving the poor orphans destitute. The Print
alluded to in this case, representing the Charge of the Life
Guards at Waterloo in 1816, was published by subscription
for their benefit.

~235~~casting glimpses at the pictures and the sprightly females by
which they were surrounded, and drawing his Cousin to such subjects as
appeared to be most deserving of attention; among which, the fine effect
produced by Mr. W. B. Cooke stood high in his estimation, particularly
in his View of Edinburgh from Calton Hill, and Brightling Observatory in
Rose Hill--Le Keux, in his Monument, also partook of his encomiums--T.
Woolroth's Portraits, particularly that of the Duchess of Kent, claimed
attention, and was deservedly admired, as well as a smaller one of Mr.
Shalis by the same artist; indeed, the whole appeared to be selected,
combined and arranged under the direction of a master, and calculated
at once to surprise and delight. After enjoying an hour's lounge in this
agreeable company,

"Come," said Dashall, "we will repair to Somerset House, and amuse
ourselves with colours.

"Halloo!" said a smart looking young man behind them--"_what am you
arter?--where is you going to?_"

Upon turning round, Dashall discovered it to be the exquisite Mr.
Mincingait, who, having just caught a glimpse of him, and not knowing
what to do with himself, hung as it were upon the co