Although I looked everywhere, I could not find a speck of dust or dirt anywhere, not even in the corners. “Ah!” (I said to myself, as I was going up the stairs,) “how different is this from the common run of artists.” When I went to have my portrait painted by Mr. Gl--k, in N--wm--n St--t, I am sure you might have taken the dust up in spoonfuls, which convinced me that he was no Genius; for I must and will say, that the man who does not give his mind to the smaller affairs of life, will never succeed with the greater ones; for is it not proverbial that a master-hand is to be seen in everything? And to prove to the courteous Reader how correct my opinion was, Mr. Gl--k turned out to be but an indifferent artist, after all, for he made me look like a perfect fright. After waiting a few minutes in a delightful ante-room, I was shown into the Study, and for the first time stood face to face with that highly-talented artist and charming man, George Cruikshank, Esquire, whom, as a painter, I don’t think I go too far in calling the Constable of the day. Were I in this instance to adopt Dr. Watts’s beautiful standard by which to judge of the stature of intellectual men--that is, “that the mind is the measure of the man,” I should say that Mr. George Cruikshank is a perfect Giant, a mental Colossus of Rhodes, or Daniel Lambert; but viewing him in the flesh, he appeared to be of an ordinary height. Directly I saw him, he presented to me the appearance of a fine picture set in a muscular frame, his body being neither stout nor thin. His features, which are strictly classical, and strike you as a piece of antiquity, and belonging to the Ancients, appear to have been finely chiselled, while Genius (to use an expressive figure of speech) is carved in large, unmistakeable characters on his lofty brow, (though, of course, I do not mean that this is literally the case.) Nature has evidently thrown Mr. Cruikshank’s whole soul in his face; there is (if I may be allowed the expression) a fire in his eye which is quite cheerful to look at; and when he speaks, from the cordial tone of his discourse, you feel as certain, as if his bosom was laid bare to you, that his heart is in its right place. Nor can I omit to mention the picturesque look of his whiskers, which are full and remarkably handsome, and at once tell you that they have been touched by the hand of a great painter. In disposition, Mr. Cruikshank seems to be peculiarly amiable, (indeed, he was exceedingly kind and attentive to me,) for he appears to have a great partiality for animals of all kinds. In his room was a perfect little love of a spaniel, (very much like our Carlo before he was stolen from us,) and on his mantelpiece was a beautiful plaster model of a horse trotting, while at his window hung a charming singing canary, to all of which he seems to be very much attached.