rly, as
in the thimblerig group; or he can do without faces altogether; or he
can, at a pinch, provide a countenance for a gentleman out of any
given object--a beautiful Irish physiognomy being moulded upon a keg of
whiskey; and a jolly English countenance frothing out of a pot of ale
(the spirit of brave Toby Philpot come back to reanimate his clay);
while in a fungus may be recognized the physiognomy of a mushroom peer.
Finally, if he is at a loss, he can make a living head, body, and legs
out of steel or tortoise-shell, as in the case of the vivacious pair of
spectacles that are jockeying the nose of Caddy Cuddle.

Of late years Mr. Cruikshank has busied himself very much with steel
engraving, and the consequences of that lucky invention have been, that
his plates are now sold by thousands, where they could only be produced
by hundreds before. He has made many a bookseller's and author's fortune
(we trust that in so doing he may not have neglected his own). Twelve
admirable plates, furnished yearly to that facetious little publication,
the Comic Almanac, have gained for it a sale, as we hear, of nearly
twenty thousand copies. The idea of the work was novel; there was,
in the first number especially, a great deal of comic power, and
Cruikshank's designs were so admirable that the Almanac at once became a
vast favorite with the public, and has so remained ever since.

Besides the twelve plates, this almanac contains a prophetic woodcut,
accompanying an awful Blarneyhum Astrologicum that appears in this and
other almanacs. There is one that hints in pretty clear terms that with
the Reform of Municipal Corporations the ruin of the great Lord Mayor of
London is at hand. His lordship is meekly going to dine at an eightpenny
ordinary, his giants in pawn, his men in armor dwindled to "one poor
knight," his carriage to be sold, his stalwart aldermen vanished, his
sheriffs, alas! and alas! in gaol! Another design shows that Rigdum, if
a true, is also a moral and instructive prophet. John Bull is asleep, or
rather in a vision; the cunning demon, Speculation, blowing a thousand
bright bubbles about him. Meanwhile the rooks are busy at his fob, a
knave has cut a cruel hole in his pocket, a rattlesnake has coiled safe
round his feet, and will in a trice swallow Bull, chair, money and all;
the rats are at his corn-bags (as if, poor devil, he had corn to spare);
his faithful dog is bolting his leg-of-mutton--nay, a thief has gotten