(although painted as vigorously as any other portion of the picture) we do not strictly approve of, inasmuch as it may, with the utmost impartiality, be assumed as an imitation of Sir Thomas Lawrence’s portrait of George the Fourth; nevertheless, we in part excuse this, from the known difficulty attendant upon the representation of a gentleman seated in enjoyment, and parading his bandana, without associating it with a veritable footman, who, upon the occasion of his “Sunday out,” may, perchance, be seen in one of the front lower tenements in Belgrave-square, or some such locale, paying violent attentions to the housemaid, and the hot toast, decorated with the order of the handkerchief, to preserve his crimson plush in all its glowing purity.  We cannot take leave of this interesting work without declaring our opinion that the composition (of the frame) is highly creditable.

    [3] We have forgotten the artist’s name—­perhaps never knew it; but
        we believe it is the same gentleman who painted the great
        author of “Jack Sheppard.”

Placed on the right of the last-mentioned work of art, is a representation of a young lady, as seen when presenting a full-blown flower to a favourite parrot.  There is a delicate simplicity in the attitude and expression of the damsel, which, though you fail to discover the like in the tortuous figures of Taglioni or Cerito, we have often observed in the conduct of ladies many years in the seniority of the one under notice, who, ever mindful of the idol of their thoughts and affections—­a feline companion—­may be seen carrying a precious morsel, safely skewered, in advance of them; this gentleness the artist has been careful to retain to eminent success.  We are, nevertheless, woefully at a loss to divine what the allegory can possibly be (for as such we view it), what the analogy between a pretty poll and a pol-yanthus.  We are unlearned in the language of flowers, or, perhaps, might probe the mystery by a little floral discussion.  We are, however, compelled to leave it to the noble order of freemasons, and shall therefore wait patiently an opportunity of communicating with his Royal Highness the Duke of Sussex.  In the meantime we shall not he silent upon the remaining qualities of the work as a general whole—­the young lady—­the parrot—­the polyanthus, and the chiaro-scuro, are as excellent as usual in this our most amusing painter’s productions.

As a pendant to this, we are favoured with the portrait of a young gentleman upon a half-holiday—­and, equipped with cricket means, his dexter-hand grasps his favourite bat, whilst the left arm gracefully encircles a hat, in which is seductively shown a genuine “Duke.”  The sentiment of this picture is unparalleled, and to the young hero of any parish eleven is given a stern expression of Lord’s Marylebone ground.  We can already (aided by perspective and imagination) see him before a future generation of cricketers, “shoulder his bat, and show how