t, we believe, extend beyond a couple of numbers,
containing about a score of copper-plates. The collector of humorous
designs cannot fail to have them in his portfolio, for they contain
some of the very best efforts of Mr. Cruikshank's genius, and though not
quite so highly labored as some of his later productions, are none the
worse, in our opinion, for their comparative want of finish. All the
effects are perfectly given, and the expression is as good as it could
be in the most delicate engraving upon steel. The artist's style, too,
was then completely formed; and, for our parts, we should say that we
preferred his manner of 1825 to any other which he has adopted since.
The first picture, which is called "The Point of Honor," illustrates the
old story of the officer who, on being accused of cowardice for refusing
to fight a duel, came among his brother officers and flung a
lighted grenade down upon the floor, before which his comrades fled
ignominiously. This design is capital, and the outward rush of heroes,
walking, trampling, twisting, scuffling at the door, is in the best
style of the grotesque. You see but the back of most of these gentlemen;
into which, nevertheless, the artist has managed to throw an expression
of ludicrous agony that one could scarcely have expected to find in
such a part of the human figure. The next plate is not less good. It
represents a couple who, having been found one night tipsy, and lying
in the same gutter, were, by a charitable though misguided gentleman,
supposed to be man and wife, and put comfortably to bed together. The
morning came; fancy the surprise of this interesting pair when they
awoke and discovered their situation. Fancy the manner, too, in which
Cruikshank has depicted them, to which words cannot do justice. It is
needless to state that this fortuitous and temporary union was followed
by one more lasting and sentimental, and that these two worthy persons
were married, and lived happily ever after.

We should like to go through every one of these prints. There is the
jolly miller, who, returning home at night, calls upon his wife to
get him a supper, and falls to upon rashers of bacon and ale. How he
gormandizes, that jolly miller! rasher after rasher, how they pass away
frizzling and, smoking from the gridiron down that immense grinning gulf
of a mouth. Poor wife! how she pines and frets, at that untimely hour of
midnight to be obliged to fry, fry, fry perpetually, and