H. B. is himself again, this week. The Doke of
Cumberland as Racid, interposing between Lords Kenyon and Grey, is a good idea. The Royal Duke is almost as amusing as LISTON in the burletta of I'll be your Second. Lord Kenyon's irate and vacant look is hit off with great spirit. He is also introduced in the group of Ultras who are lis- tening with wonderment to Lord Ellenborough's authoritative speech during the memorable Interregnum of the present Ministry. Lord Mansfield (an admirable portrait), the Duke of Newcastle, and Lords Roden and Wynford (the latter fiery with gout and choler), are all amazement ; while the Dear Duke, leering round at them, whispers aside to Lord Aberdeen, "I fear it won't do," and the Big Duke, looking up at the complacent speaker, vows that if his plan was a mouse, this looks like an elephant. H. B. seems to have taken up the cause of the consistent Ultras, for he entitles the print " Who are WE ?"—the obnoxious word in Lord Ellenborough's notable speech.