“No single symp--I was about to say that no single symptom of a curiosity, however insignificant, is visible in my dwelling, when by audible tokens I was (or rather am) rendered sensible of the existence of a _pair of bellows_. Well, in these it must be admitted that we _do_ possess a curiosity. We call them ‘bellows,’ because, on a close inspection, they appear to bear a much stronger resemblance to ‘bellows’ than to any other species of domestic implement; but what in reality they are, the next annual meeting of the great Scientific Association must determine; or the public may decide for themselves, when admitted hereafter to view the precious deposit in the British Museum.” Then follows an amusing account of the old bellows, with a sketch of them. “The origin of the bellows I know not,” says their owner; “but a suspicion has seized me that they might have been employed in the Ark, had there been a kitchen fire there; and they may have assisted in raising a flame under the first tea-kettle put on to celebrate the laying of the first stone of the great wall of China.” Cruikshank, moreover, took exception to the description of his person by the same writer. If careless about his house, he was vain of his person. The writer said: “In person, G. C. is about the middle height, and proportionbly made. His complexion is something between pale and clear; and his hair, which is tolerably ample, partakes of a lightish hue. His face is of the angular form, and his forehead has a ‘prominently receding shape.” Cruikshank closed with his antagonist:-- “As Hamlet said to the ghost, I’ll go no further! The indefinite complexion, and the hair ‘partaking’ of an opposite hue to the real one, may be borne; but I stand, not upon my head, but on my forehead! To a man who has once passed the Rubicon in having dared to publish his portrait, the exhibition of his mere profile can do no more injury than a petty larceny would after the perpetration of a highway robbery. But why be tempted to show, by an outline, that my forehead is innocent of a shape (the ‘prominently receding’ one) that never yet was visible in nature or in art? Let it pass, till it can be explained. “‘He delights in a handsome pair of whiskers.’ Nero had one flower flung upon his tomb. ‘He has somewhat of a dandified appearance.’ Flowers soon fade, and are cut down; and this is the ‘unkindest cut of all.’ I, who, humbly co-operating with the press, have helped to give permanence to the name of dandy--I, who have all my life been breaking butterflies upon wheels in warring against dandyism and dandies--am at last discovered to be ‘somewhat’ of a dandy myself. ‘Come, Antony, and young Octavius, come! Revenge yourselves’ as you may; but, dandies all, I have not done with you yet.”