“He read these and similar passages to me, and was immensely tickled at their egregious absurdity. In truth, his manner at once impressed me as being peculiarly gentle, and kind, and genial. Instead of assuming any airs of superiority, I found him possessed of all the humble modesty and chivalrous courtesy of the truly great artist and thorough gentleman; and although I was quite young, and he was in his sixty-first year, he treated me as though I had been his equal, if not superior, in ability. We had so much to talk about, and he had so much to show me, that my first interview with George Cruikshank had been prolonged to nearly four hours before I became aware how quickly the time had flown. The time had then arrived for their luncheon, or early dinner; and as both Mr. and Mrs. Cruikshank pressed me to stay, and I had by this time overlapped the hour at which I had made another engagement, I readily and peculiarity to his manner, which would suffice to consented to remain, and we went downstairs to dinner. ‘There will be nothing else than a leg of mutton,’ said Cruikshank. ‘I happen to know that, for I came in with it,’ I replied; ‘for as I knocked at the hall door the butcher’s boy was down in the area, delivering the leg of mutton to the cook.’ Cruikshank seemed to be greatly amused at this, for he laughed heartily, and said to his wife, ‘My dear, Mr. -------- came in with the mutton.’ Something in the occurrence seemed to mightily tickle his fancy, for more than once he repeated the words to his wife, ‘My dear, Mr. -------- came in with the mutton!’ It was while I was eating it that I terribly forgot myself. The day was very sultry; it was five hours since I had breakfasted; we had been busy talking, and I felt thirsty. So, while the parlourmaid was handing something to me. I asked her to give me a glass of beer. She replied, ‘We have no beer, sir.’ ‘Then,’ I said, ‘please to bring me the sherry.’ ‘There is no sherry, sir.’ Whereupon my host interposed, and laughingly explained that he could not allow the introduction of any alcoholic liquor into his house; and that, while I was his guest, I must content myself with drinking water. Then I suddenly remembered that which I ought not to have forgotten, even for a moment, that my host had devoted himself to teetotal, who, six years before, had drawn the eight scenes of ‘The Bottle,’ and had thereby struck a powerful blow at one of the greatest vices of the age.