A passing notice of a few of the more splendid works of art, (for the above are among the cheap and popular projects of the day,) and we must conclude.

    [2] The only place in which they do not progress mutually is the
        theatre.  Look at the scenery of our patent theatres, and compare
        it with the vulgar daubs even of John Kemble’s time.  Some of the
        scenes by Stanfield, Roberts, Grieve, and Pugh, are “perfect
        pictures.”  Yet the language of the stage is at a stand, and
        insipid comedy, dull tragedy, and stupid farce are more abundant
        than before the “march of mind”.

    [3] While on the subject of wood-engraving, perhaps we may he
        allowed to mention our own humble plan of illustrating a sheet
        of letter-press for twopence.  Of course, perfection in the
        engraving department would have ruined all parties concerned;
        for each of our subjects (as the miniature painters tell you of
        their works) might be worked up to “any price”.  It is now six
        years since the MIRROR was commenced, and as we are not speaking
        of ourselves, individually, we hope we may refer to the
        progressive improvement of the graphic department without any
        charge of vanity.

It would be tedious to enumerate even a small portion of the fine pictures which have been engraved during the last two years; the mention of two or three will answer our purpose.  Every printseller’s window will attest the fact.  Only let the reader step into Mr. Colnaghi’s parlours, in Cockspur-street, and we might say the spacious print gallery in Pall Mall.  There let him turn over a few of the host of fine portraits which have been transferred from the canvass to the copper—­the excellent series of royal portraits—­and of men whose names will shine in the history of their country, when their portraits shall be gathered into the portfolios of a few collectors.  Among portraits, we ought, however, to recollect Mr. Lodge’s invaluable collection of historical characters, the originals of which were exhibited a few months since, previous to their republication in a more economical form.  The Temple of Jupiter, published a few months since, is perhaps one of the proudest triumphs of the year.  Martin’s Deluge, too, has lately appeared, and we look forward to the publication of his last splendid picture, the Fall of Nineveh, with high hopes.

In the SUPPLEMENTARY NUMBER[4] (published with the present) we have noticed in detail a few of the many superb engravings which embellish the Christmas presents for the ensuing year, as well as their literary talent, by a string of extracts like

  “Orient pearls at random strung.”