have been painted out of the very same materials, which Mr Cruikshank, out of his wondrous fund of merriment and observation, can afford to throw away upon a drawing not two inches long. From the practical dustmen we pass to those purely poetical. Here are three of them who rise on clouds of their own raising, the very genii of the sack and shovel.
Is there no one to write a sonnet to these ? -- and yet a whole poem was written about Peter Bell the Waggoner, a character by no means so poetic.
And lastly, we have the dustman in love, the honest fellow is on the spectator's right hand, and having seen a young beauty stepping out of a gin-shop on a Sunday morning, is pressing eagerly his suit.