you? What are you gaping at? Did you never see a Milisher man before?"

_A disgustingly ignorant observation in the opinion of young Longslip,
Lieutenant in Her Majesty's Fusileer Guards_--_Punch_, March 7, 1863.]

Charles Keene is seldom a satirist. His nature was too tolerant and
too sweet for hate, and that makes him a bad and somewhat perfunctory
hater. He tries to hate 'Arry, but he can't, for he draws an ideal
'Arry that surely never was, and thus his shaft misses the mark:
compare his 'Arry to one of Leech's snobs, for instance! He tries to
hate the haw-haw swell, and is equally unsuccessful. When you hate and
can draw, you can draw what you hate down to its minutest
details--better, perhaps, than what you love--so that whoever runs and
reads and looks at your pictures hates with you.

Who ever hated a personage of Keene's beyond that feeble kind of
aversion that comes from mere uncongeniality, a slightly offended
social taste, or prejudice? One feels a mere indulgent and
half-humorous disdain, but no hate. On the other hand, I do not think
that we love his personages very much--we stand too much outside his
eccentric world for sympathy. From the pencil of this most lovable
man, with his unrivalled power of expressing all he saw and thought, I
cannot recall many lovable characters of either sex or any age. Here
and there a good-natured cabby, a jolly navvy, a simple-minded
flautist or bagpiper, or a little street Arab, like the small boy who
pointed out the jail doctor to his pal and said, "That's my medical
man."

Whereas Leech's pages teem with winning, graceful, lovable types, and
here and there a hateful one to give relief.