Deuce." The star has fallen; but the loose garter is ready with its excuse-Honi soit,, &c. How very drunk his Majesty is to be sure! There's a bonnet on the corner of the skreen, and three or four bottles, or so, under the chair. The candles have not been snuffed

lately-the Royal hand became incapable about half an hour ago. Let us take a view of him in another light :-it is quite clear that he was more than sublime, for with a touch, absolutely impalpable, he becomes more than ridiculous.

EWARE of the Report of a BADHOUSE

He is here waging watchmanly war against his wife.

But now let us, at least, attempt to be a little regular in our proceedings. We have brought down the Cruikshank race to the heroes of Culloden: to them succeeded Isaac, our talented friend's

excellent father. He was a native of Edinburgh, or its neighbourhood, and at an early age evinced, without the slightest tuition, considerable powers as an artist. Some of his sketches, which we have seen (done when he was a boy), possess a force, truth, and effect, which, among the productions of self-taught genius, have rarely been surpassed. He wished to be a painter; and his mother-we believe the good woman was a widow-eager to second her darling boy's aspirations, placed him, at once, on trial with a friend. Young Cruikshank, however, soon found that his intended master was not the sort of master he wanted; being, in fact, one of those honest tradesmen, who append to their names, on cards and door-posts, in addition to that of painter, the double designation of " plumber and glazier." Disdaining putty, the young artist soon returned home in disgust; and, for some time after, gave himself up fully to the transcendant delights of free, jocund, and boyish amusement. He strolled, climbed, swam, and, once now and then, almost against his will, felt compelled to sketch a fine bold, rugged, rocky outline; to transfer a droll face to paper; or to perpetuate, so far as his materials would permit, an accidental, but splendid bit of colour in "the heavens above or the earth beneath." Originally he was an artist; but the engravers into whose hands his best drawings fell, so butchered them, (we are now speaking of his after-life,) that he lost that ambition which had been the idol of his youth; and, finding it impossible, on account of the cruel translation his designs suffered, to achieve fame, he contented himself, as his family increased, with making money. Thus was a promising painter spoiled. Little can be said in favour of those plates, at the left hand corner of which he blushed to see his name subscribed; and yet the elder Cruikshank was in feeling, perception, and taste, AN ARTIST! On seeing his original design for a plate which was perfectly familiar to us, we have been startled at the deterioration it had endured: the engraving was weak, annoying, and repulsive; the design fresh, vigorous, and delightful. We rejoiced in the one-we detested the other. He had indeed been brutally transferred. All that constitutes feeling, poetry, had been, not merely abused, but turned into the vilest caricature. He was not ludicrously, but seriously parodied. In his sketch the story was well told; in the engraving, it was given in the Billingsgate version of the coppersmith.

Such was the fate of the elder Cruikshank. But, to return to his boyhood, for the sake of an anecdote, as well as to account for his appearance among the Cockneys: one day, while bathing with a companion from the edge of a rock, towards the summit of which the sea at high tide approached, an event occurred that very pleasantly brings out the prudent and persevering characteristics of our northern neighbours. Isaac's friend inherited the name of Ross, and is now, we believe, a veteran on the Times: while dressing, little Ross unfortunately dropped one of his silver shoe-buckles in the sea. Isaac Cruikshank, having no interest in the mishap, put on his clothes and went home. Ross, however, remained; and, after he had sat for two or three hours with his legs dangling over the edge of the rock, a humane gentleman thus accosted him :-" My lad, I've seen

you sitting thus for a long time; I hope you have no sinister designs fearing that you might, I have left my house to come and prevent them. Suicide is quite unwarrantable-you'll understand -especially in a boy. How would you like to have your mother see the corpse of her dear child cantering, like a deal plank, over yon waves. For shame, lad; go home, and don't think of it ;-go home; -go home."—" No, thank you, sir," said Ross." Why not, then, eh?"-"Because, you see, sir, I've dropped my shoe-buckle, and I'm waiting for the low water, that I may make sure of it on the sands below."

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Soon after this circumstance, a gentleman was so infatuated with Isaac's talent, that he offered to take him to London, and make a man of him. On his arrival in the metropolis, the fellow wanted to transform the young genius into a lackey: Isaac resented the insult by instantly quitting the rascal's house, and, without a shilling or a pencil, threw himself upon the world. He had previously, without assistance, acquired the modus operandi of etching. Ignorant of his topographical position, he entered a shop in the Minories, where minor engravings were sold. With the most winning artlessness, he solicited and obtained employment. "Will you oblige me with a tool or two?" said he, to the shopkeeper." What! no tools ?"—" None."- Well, it 's rather odd; but I'll venture to lend you a few."-" Thank you sincerely, sir-but about the copper?". "Well!"-"I havn't a plate in the world; I'm just come from Edinburgh,-if you'd only trust me with one-." "It's a risk, to be sure, for you may spoil it; but I don't much mind if I do: - there."-" Many thanks to you, sir; I'm a friendless lad in this great town, though in Scotland there's many that would stand up for me to the last drop of their blood. Would you permit me to do the plate at that little desk behind your counThe shopkeeper was at first amazed; but, after a few moments' consideration, he gracefully acquiesced, like a good Samaritan as he was; and in a very brief period "little Isaac" earned a guinea! It was his first, and we are told by competent authorities, that the ceiling suffered from his vehement leap when it was placed in his hands. All this is decidedly honourable to the young gentleman's prudence, perseverance, and talent. We should be proud of such a son; and Miss Mac Naghten was happy-no disparagement to her personal attractions or good qualities of heart and mind-in being blessed with such a husband.

ter?"

The young artist thenceforth obtained full employment. As he grew up, he displayed from time to time considerable powers as a caricaturist. "In process of time" he married-as young men willand had a family. I. R. Cruikshank was his first-born; George, his second. Both selected their father's profession, and while George was digging away at his father's plates and dishes, I. R., being some years older, was painting miniatures, and supporting himself. I. R. had studied in the Academy, and Fuseli once paid this high compliment-considering from whom it emanated-to one of his drawings:- "That is very good!" George wished to follow his brother's steps, and accordingly drew a figure from the antique, in order to obtain admission. It was his first and last. On presenting it to FuM. M. No. 86.

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seli, the latter said :-" Well, you may go in, but you must fight for a seat." George found it would be necessary to do so, if he wished to profit by the Keeper's gracious permission, for the students were so numerous, that he could not approach near enough, even to see the outlines of the principal figures-his powers of vision being, at that time, particularly weak. They have become keen enough since, as witness his works. Not being inclined to distinguish himself in the way indicated by Fuseli, he put his portfolio under his arm, and went home; nor did he subsequently return, except to attend the lectures.

His active mind soon found an equivalent for plaster and marble. Debarred as he was from the study of "still life," he determined on studying life itself, in a school which was neither destitute of energy, expression, or character. His gallery was the tap-room of a low public-house, situate in one of the lanes which branch off from the great thoroughfares towards the Thames. Here, after sunset, there was always a large quantity of miscellaneous material-Irish coalwhippers, Billingsgate Bellonas, Black Sals, Dusty Bobs, &c., whose frolics and features he was accustomed to study, night after night, through a friendly hole in the shutter, which he had picked out for the purpose with his graver. Hence his matchless delineations of low life-the perfect identity, so to speak, of his rows. His fights are nothing like "effusions of fancy;" they do not resemble a scene that might be, but one-as the spectator feels that has been. The sketch of Michael in Search of his Wife, in " More Mornings at Bow-street," for instance, is a piece of self-evident truth; it is a peep through a hole in the shutter of The Black Boy, in Bone-alley. The Gentleman in the Tin-pot-but let the cut speak for itself—here it is:

In his father's designs, George now and then had permission to fill up a corner with "a little bit of his own." Gradually he obtained a larger allowance; and, at length, he drew his first caricature. His father liked it sufficiently well to offer it to a publisher, who agreed to purchase it when engraved. He did so. This was at the time of the Walcheren affair. The subject was Sir William Curtis embarking on board a well-provisioned craft for the seat of war. How many old portfolios will this announcement cause to be rummaged! Not long after, the death of the elder Cruikshank occurred, and George quietly succeeded to the business, which increased under his management to such an extent, that he invited his elder brother, (I. R.) to abandon miniature painting, and join him. No sooner had the sagacious I. R. infused himself into the concern, than a strike was made for wages. The market price of large caricatures, drawn and etched, copper included, had usually been twenty-five or thirty shillings; I. R. insisted on their being quoted in future at three guineas. What could the poor publishers do? No caricature would be received unless the name of Cruikshank appeared on the face of it. Their wives and families must be supported, and they submitted to the extortion, although it is said, their average profits on each plate were reduced, by the gross overcharge, from fifty guineas to fifty pounds seventeen shillings, or thereabouts. This was too bad, considering the unfortunate publishers drank wine, and had their gigs to keep.

For many years the brothers continued "jointly and severally," to execute caricatures, chiefly political, with most of which such of our readers as have beards to annoy them, are doubtlessly familiar. "One of the million" is thus spoken of by the Author of "The Cigar in 1825:"-" There is a caricature of his (George Cruikshank's) extant, the scene of which is the White Horse Cellar, Piccadilly. A knot of cads, coachmen, old women, butchers'-boys, and all those droll, but true creatures which are usual in his sketches, are scrambling, tossing, tumbling, and fighting in most terrific confusion on the pavement. In the centre of the group appears a Life-Guardsman, with his head, shoulders, and half his body boldly visible above the heads of the belligerents. He is walking through them with calm dignity, his head erect, and his eye just glancing down his cheek at the row below. But he seems to be in another element. The mighty tempest below troubles him not; he pursues his steady course through the squabble like a seventy-four sailing among a crew of cock-boats. I told George that the fellow was fine; but it took me half an hour to bring him to my way of thinking. His objection was, that one of the Life-Guards may be seen so acting in a similar situation every day in the week." The same writer thus supports our statement as to George's felicity in the portraiture of " persons not present:"-" I am convinced that his eye unconsciously receives, and his brain unconsciously hoards up the droll visages which enrich his designs. Those immortal French musicians" (the Author here alludes to a capital caricature) were drawn long after they had left this country. George had never taken any particular notice of them,