“In that paper I spoke of a lady in an omnibus, whose set of false teeth were projected into her opposite neighbour’s lap through a sudden jolt of the vehicle while she was sucking her parasol handle. This led me to tell Cruikshank an anecdote that I had then recently heard, and which, as it has not been in print, I may here narrate; for Cruikshank laughed very heartily at it, and said that he should like to make an illustration to it, and asked me if I could not write a paper on country rectors and their adventures, in which it might be introduced, and which he would further illustrate. Very likely this suggestion might have been carried into effect if Mr. D. Bogue had carried on the magazine. As it was, it was lost to the world.” Cuthbert Bede has also given us an account of Cruikshank’s first introduction to the editor of his unfortunate final magazine:-- “He told me that, as in my own case, he had not known Cruikshank personally until this projected magazine brought them together, although Cruikshank had illustrated ‘Frank Fairleigh.’ The great artist’s first call upon Smedley was made only a few days previous to my own; and Smedley gave me the following account of it: ‘He was shown into this room, while I was sitting at that writing-desk by the window, I wheeled my chair round (poor Smedley had to use a self-acting wheeled chair), and advanced to meet him. Thus I had my back to the light, and he was facing the window. He appeared so amazed at seeing me such a cripple as I am, that he could not overcome his wonder, but kept exclaiming, “Good God! I thought you could gallop about on horses!” and the like expressions. I explained how it was; and we then proceeded to discuss business details. It was a hot, sultry day, and Cruikshank had walked fast; he was heated, and his face and forehead were very red. His hair was blown about, and, instead of sitting quietly on a chair, he was standing up and gesticulating wildly. I have a sense of the ludicrous, and had the greatest difficulty to keep from laughing, or to look him in the face. For all this time, in the very centre of his capacious and very red forehead, there was a round something of ivory, not plain, but carved in circles, and as big as a large button. I wondered what it could be. Was it some Temperance badge? Was it some emblem of office in some secret society, in which he held rank as a Great Panjandrum with the little button atop? For the life of me I could not divine what it was. And all the time he was holding me with his glittering eye, and going through a whole pantomime of gesticulations. Suddenly, and to my from his forehead, and dropped on the hearthrug at his feet. Cruikshank looked at it with bewilderment, and said, “Wherever did that come from?”