PICTURE I. The MODEST GIRL and the WANTON, FELLOW-SERVANTS In a Gentleman's Houſe.

IT is the purpoſe, as we have already obſerved, of the following ſeries of Pictures, to place in the ſtrongeſt light the probable conſequences of GOOD and BAD CONDUCT merely in this life. No⯑thing ſo fully impreſſes the mind as EXAMPLE; and therefore two characters are choſen from a large claſs of ſociety, in order to render the moral more extenſively uſeful. But, though the characters are thus ſelected from one order of the community, the [6]moral is not confined to that order; for every perſon, in any other ſtate, may apply the leſſon at home, learn to avoid ſuch conduct as neceſſarily leads to the loſs of fortune and reputation, and, on the other hand, to act upon ſuch principles as tend to raiſe the eſteem of mankind, and, conſequently, to procure their favour and protection. The exam⯑ples, held forth in this work, conſiſt of two FEMALE SERVANTS, who are ſuppoſed to live in the houſe of a young unmarried man of fortune. They are con⯑ceived to be of an equal age, and upon a level with reſpect to ſituation, talents, and perſonal attrac⯑tions. One, however, acts uniformly from motives of prudence, delicacy, and virtue; the other is careleſs, diſſipated, and inclined to immoral gratifi⯑cations. The progreſs of their conduct, and the fi⯑nal reſult, illuſtrate that homely, but important, axiom in morals, ‘"HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY."’

The firſt picture unfolds, in ſome degree, the characters of the heroines of this graphic drama. The GOOD SERVANT is induſtriouſly employed in the proper duties of her ſtation. The circumſtances, in which ſhe is placed, manifeſt order and economy, and diſplay her natural diſpoſition. The almanack implies that her time is always properly aſſigned to her reſpective duties. The introduction of the ant and the graſshopper is ſymbolical of the two cha⯑racters; [7]which are alſo indicated by the picture over the door, repreſenting the parable of the wiſe and fooliſh virgins.—The BAD SERVANT, a giddy wan⯑ton girl, inſtead of minding her work, is playing; and the confuſion and diſorder, with which ſhe is ſurrounded, afford an unpromiſing ſpecimen of her future behaviour. The ſcheme of the lottery, above her head, ſhews that her mind is filled with fooliſh hopes of fortuitous proſperity, and that ſhe is not likely to adopt the proper means for ſecuring a ſitu⯑ation of permanent comfort and reſpectability. She is ſuppoſed to be a coquette in her claſs; conſequently, all the men-ſervants, who are toying with her, e⯑qually ſhare in her favours, and naturally take liber⯑ties, where they meet with encouragement. The prudent old houſekeeper, from a convenient ſta⯑tion, obſerves the whole, and expreſſes a compaſ⯑ſionate foreboding of the melancholy effects likely to reſult from ſuch heedleſs proceedings. Hence may be inferred how neceſſary it is to check the firſt tendency to immoral purſuits, leſt the paſſions ſhould be rendered ſtronger by indulgence, till they lead the profligate to the laſt exceſſes of vice and infamy.

PICTURE II. GOOD ADVICE from an OLD SERVANT To the YOUNG ONES.

THE next ſcene of our moral drama exhibits the heroines of the piece acting according to the qualities, which form the diſtinguiſhing features of their reſpective characters. The houſekeeper, be⯑nevolent from nature, and wiſe from experience, an⯑xious to direct the unwary ſervant towards the paths of virtue, and to confirm the well-diſpoſed girl in thoſe good intentions which appear to guide her conduct, [10]is delivering ſuch exhortations as obſervation and a knowledge of the ſnares, that overſpread life, natu⯑rally enforce. The girls are ſuppoſed to be in the houſekeeper's room, called thither for the purpoſe of liſtening, undiſturbed by the ridicule of the male⯑ſervants, to the leſſons of experience. And here we ſee a conſpicuous proof of the feelings, that are likely to influence their future lives.—The amiable girl is meekly lending an attentive ear to the remarks of the ſage and benevolent houſekeeper, as if ſhe hoped to derive from the diſcourſe ſuch a plan of behaviour, as may ſecure the approbation of her own conſcience, and lead her through a life of innocence and tranquillity.—The other girl, compelled to at⯑tend to a lecture repugnant to her feelings, can hardly preſerve even the outward marks of deco⯑rum, but ſhews, by a liſtleſs yawn, that ſhe is deaf to all admonition, which may contradict the paſſions ſhe is inclined to indulge, though miſery and ruin ſhould be the inevitable conſequences. Her hand, indeed, ſeems to be lifted towards her mouth, as if to conceal the effect of a diſcourſe which ſhe thinks tedious; but the manner of the action ſhews, that it is rather the reſult of habit than dictated by any regard to civility. The diſorder of her dreſs, in perfect oppoſition to the near attire of her fellow-ſervant, and the negligence of her attitude, contri⯑bute to develop the licentiouſneſs of her character; while the pocket-glaſs, which ſhe has careleſſly [11]dropped, completes the portrait of vanity and folly. — The china-cloſet, the books on the ſhelf, the de⯑cayed finery of the chairs, which may be ſuppoſed to be diſcarded from better apartments, all indicate, as we ſaid, the room of the houſekeeper; a place, where advice could be given with the leaſt chance of interruption.

PICTURE III. The WANTON In her Bed-Chamber.

THE ſcene now repreſented may be conſidered as the natural conſequence of what appeared in the two former pictures, relative to the character of the bad ſervant. Wholly devoted to the impulſe of unruly paſſions, ſhe no longer guards her door from the invaſions of the midnight libertine; but, being now become the ſlave of appetite, meditates only the means of gratifying it. Her bed-room is [14]in diſorder, and her clothes ſcattered around in care⯑leſs negligence. The decorations of her apparel manifeſt the corruptneſs of her taſte and the irregu⯑larity of her deſires; and the papers, which ſhe has choſen as ornaments to her room, or rather as in⯑centives to her miſguided imagination, demonſtrate her thoughts to have been more employed on ſuch fallacious artifices as ſhe thinks may add allurements to her perſon, than on the ſolid attainments, which may make her a deſirable companion for life. A⯑mongſt theſe we likewiſe diſcover the portrait of one, whom ſhe admired as a man of ſpirit. Devo⯑ted to looſe novels or idle love-letters, ſhe appears to have endangered the houſe by her nocturnal ſtu⯑dies, as is evidently ſeen by the ſmoke of a candle againſt the wall. Her garters diſplay a love-motto, and the hat of her lover, in the corner, denotes that he is familiar to her apartment; where he is now conceived to be a conſtant viſitor when the reſt of the family have retired to repoſe. The pride and folly of her character is ſtill farther obſervable in the name of Eliza, appended to one of her letters dropped upon the pillow; and which, taught by ſome of her ſilly romances, ſhe has choſen as a more elegant appellation, and one more ſuitable to her ambitious hopes, than the vulgar name of Betty, by which ſhe imagines herſelf degraded in her do⯑meſtic ſituation. After this general appearance of careleſſneſs and ſenſuality, it is no wonder to find, [15]that her lover is ſtealing into her apartment; or that, in waiting for him, ſhe ſinks into ſlumbers, over which the images of her waking fancy ſtill appear to preſide.

PICTURE IV. The GOOD GIRL In her Bed-Chamber.

WE have here a ſtriking and intereſting con⯑traſt to the ſubject of the laſt ſcene. In⯑ſtead of any diſſipated thoughts and licentious wiſhes, we ſee the good ſervant preparing for the ſeaſon of repoſe by a proper ſubmiſſion to the Su⯑preme Being; but, though employed in the duties [18]of religion, there is no appearance of gloomy me⯑lancholy or frantic enthuſiaſm. Her conſcience is wholly exempt from ‘the compunctious viſitings of nature;’ and, as her life is pure, her devotion is ſimple. The mild radiance of the ſilver moon, which appears through the window, gives a pleaſing ſolemnity to the ſcene, and is ſymbolical of the chaſtity that marks the character of our good girl. The ſtate of the room ſhews the regularity of her manners; the ſampler, worked by herſelf, contain⯑ing the Lord's Prayer, the twelve good rules of King Charles the Firſt; a paper, inculcating the duty of ſervants to their employers; the Prayer-book; and the Young Man's beſt Companion; all tend to ſhew, that her feelings take a moral direction in every purſuit; and the print of connubial happineſs indicates a well-regulated diſpoſition to ſupport the proper duties of a wife, when it ſhall pleaſe Provi⯑dence to place her in that ſituation. Finally, the bolting of the door ſhews that ſhe is prepared a⯑gainſt the aſſaults of the midnight libertine, who might reaſonably be ſuppoſed to inhabit a manſion, where temptation and encouragement were ſo groſſly held forth in the conduct of her profligate fellow⯑ſervant. Upon this occaſion, we may not unſuitably introduce the following paſſage from the penſive and amiable COLLINS:

PICTURE V. The WANTON Turned out of Doors For Miſconduct.

HITHERTO our young wanton, however miſguided her deſires may have been, howe⯑ver unfortunate the tendency of her conduct, has ſound nothing to check the indulgence of her wiſhes, or the ſucceſs of her youthful projects. We are now come to a period, where the ſcale begins to turn againſt her, and where inſtruction aſſumes a graver tone. The bitterneſs of ſorrow, which ſuc⯑ceeds [22]immoral pleaſures, now forces itſelf on her heart. She perceives at once the fatal deluſion of thoſe dazzling allurements, which, glittering for a moment, and gaudy, like the colours of the rainbow, like thoſe, are vaniſhed and diſſolved in tears.

The irregularities of this thoughtleſs girl having been detected by the vigilance of the attentive houſekeeper, ſhe is now diſcarded with juſt diſ⯑grace, and turned out upon a world, ever more in⯑clined to inſult than pity the victims of imprudence; and ſhe has thus, by her own miſconduct, totally forfeited the protection of a reſpectable and friendly manſion, which might otherwiſe have been her conſtant ſhelter and comfort through the whole courſe of her life. On which-ever ſide ſhe here caſts her eye, the objects it meets may be readily con⯑ſtrued into omens of her future fate; on one, is pre⯑ſented a diſtreſſing inſtance of want and wretchedneſs; and, on the other, a ſcene of the moſt brutal de⯑pravity. As ſhe paſſes along, ſhe is ſtung by the inſulting ſcoffs and jeerings of her very aſſociates, on whom ſhe has laviſhed the unguarded dower of innocence; and who, untouched with pity for the degraded ſituation, to which they have contributed to [23]reduce her, now crowd the window to mock her ſorrows. She has the mortification to find that the only perſons, who ſtill regard her with compaſſion, are thoſe whom ſhe before conſidered as enemies to her happineſs, or, at beſt, as ill-natured ſpies on her conduct. Happy for her, (but ſhe now per⯑ceives it too late,) if ſhe had been warned by thoſe ſalutary reproofs, of which the intent and effort were to recall her from error, reſcue her from danger, and avert the evil which has now fallen on her head.

With the little ſtock of her remaining apparel, and the more weighty evidence of her paſt miſcon⯑duct, ſhe takes a melancholy, ſolitary leave of her late happy abode, to which ſhe dares not look back. — The amiable girl, ſo lately her companion, has attended her to the door, and expreſſes for her that compaſſion, which the view of miſery, however merited, always excites in a tender and feeling mind. Conſcious of her unavailing regret, ſhe hides her ſorrows on the neck of her revered protectreſs and guardian, who ſtretches out her hand to beſtow on the parting ſteps of the wretched wanderer a laſt and fruitleſs benediction.

PICTURE VI. The GOOD GIRL Rejects the illicit Addreſſes Of her Maſter.

IN the ſcene now before us, we find the amiable ſubject of our ſtory involved in circumſtances likely to tempt her to evil, if her virtue were not founded upon the ſtrongeſt principles, that morality can dictate and religion enforce. Her maſter, a gentleman in the bloom of youth, recommended by an agreeable perſon, and poſſeſſing a fortune capable of ſupporting her in luxury and ſplendor, if ſhe could be wrought to liſten to his licentious [26]advances, has watched his opportunity, and ruſhed into the bed-chamber, while ſhe was putting it in order, for the purpoſe of taking her unawares, and rendering her, if poſſible, a ſacrifice to his ungo⯑vernable paſſions. The diſorder, that appears in her dreſs, ſhews that he has been rude in his attacks; but, finding that he was repelled with all the firm⯑neſs of virtuous indignation, he has recourſe to the milder expedient of perſuaſion, and has even been induced, by the eagerneſs of his wiſhes, to the condeſcenſion of kneeling, in order to ſoften and ſubdue her modeſt reſolutions. All his efforts however are in vain, and produce no other effect than to make her turn weeping out of the room, at the conſciouſneſs of being ſubject to ſuch an in⯑dignity becauſe ſhe is in a ſervile ſituation, and therefore ſuppoſed incapable of a high ſenſe of ho⯑nour. This conduct, were the mind altogether depraved, might be expected to excite a ſpirit of reſentment in her maſter, that would have ended in the loſs of her place, if her own delicacy did not induce her to withdraw from a ſcene of ſuch an inſult: but her maſter, though betrayed by tem⯑porary paſſion, ſuch as the diſſipation of modern manners is too apt to ſtimulate and encourage, is a man of ſenſe and feeling, and therefore is likely, on reflection, to view our heroine with ſentiments of reſpect and a nobler admiration. — Here, as in the foregoing ſcenes, the embelliſhments of the [27]room bear cloſe analogy to characters and events, and tend to illuſtrate the main deſign. Cupid, on the chimney-piece, is diſcharging an arrow, the point of which is directed to the maſter of the houſe, while he is in his ſubmiſſive ſtate of liber⯑tine entreaty. In another part, Cupid is ſeen aſtride upon a lion, expreſſive of the power of love over ſtrength. The Janus-head ſhews, in front, the face of Cupid, and, behind, that of a ſatyr; implying that love is too often uſed as the diſguiſe to a paſ⯑ſion of a much groſſer nature. The allegorical picture above, repreſenting Time diſcovering Truth, is to be conſidered as an auſpicious omen of the recompenſe that waits on virtue.

PICTURE VII. The WANTON Revelling with her Companions.

FROM the engaging ſcene of an unaffected and genuine modeſty, which the ſolicitations of youth, wealth, and perſuaſion, were unable to van⯑quiſh, we now turn our eyes to a picture of a totally different nature. Here the raſh and deluded wan⯑ton, elevated, as ſhe falſely conceives, to the height of good fortune, encouraged and careſſed by thoſe, whoſe preſent gratifications are intereſted in ſeclu⯑ding [30]her entirely from reputation and virtue, aban⯑dons herſelf, amidſt the moſt profligate of either ſex, to the wildeſt tumults of riot and debauchery. That no galling remorſe may ſteal in to fruſtrate the indulgence of licentious paſſion, ſenſe and re⯑flection are previouſly drowned in intoxicating li⯑quors, while the various luxuries of the table (now overturned before them) ſhew that every means, prodigality could deviſe, has been eagerly employed to ſcreen this abode of revelry from the painful return of reaſon and recollection, which, like the golden beam of day, lighting the vault of the dead, would but have ſerved to diſcover the hideous ob⯑jects it contains. We ſee our heroine beſtowing the diſordered careſſes of intoxication on her pa⯑ramour, who is diſtinguiſhed by the apparatus of a highwayman, and who is on the eve of paying the forfeit of his depredations on the public. She lifts an ill-poiſed bumper over his head, and drinks to his fortunate eſcape from the perils which are now evidently impending, while one of her fe⯑male companions, equally depraved and abandoned as herſelf, in a fit of drunken jealouſy, threatens to tear her, by violence, from the arms of this favorite deſperado. In the mean time, the noiſy roar of their diſorderly mirth has attracted the ob⯑ſervation of the conſtable of the night, who, at⯑tended by watchmen, link-boys, and a mob of various deſcription, has forced his way into the [31]riotous aſſembly, to the no ſmall conſternation and diſmay of thoſe few in it, who are ſtill able to form a competent judgement of their own danger. One of theſe is ſeen hiding himſelf under the table, in order to watch a convenient opportunity of eſca⯑ping, and another attempts to get up the chimney, with the ſame intent. The landlady of the houſe appears alarmed for the credit of her manſion, in which ſhe fears, not without reaſon, that her own may be eventually implicated. Fear however is by no means the predominant expreſſion of the company. Several are reſolute in reſiſtance of the lawful guardians of the night, and threaten to fire on thoſe who attempt to ſeize them. One, ſtill awake to the uſual employment of his more ſober thoughts, is buſied in ſecuring to himſelf the deſerted ſtakes of the gaming-table; while another, under pre⯑tence of aſſiſting the female combatant, whom we have mentioned, is attentive to the opportunity of purloining her watch and trinkets from her ſide: juſt emblems of the friendſhip of ſuch profligates, whoſe union is cemented only by conſpiracies of miſchief. The remaining gueſts appear totally loſt in the delirium of drunkenneſs, and one, more ea⯑ſily vanquiſhed and more unfortunate than the reſt, is lying in ſenſeleſs intoxication on the floor, while a piſtol, on the lock of which the candle has juſt fallen, threatens him with inſtant deſtruction.

[32]The decorations of the room need no comment. The picture repreſenting Venus ſcourged by Mer⯑cury, the figure of Liberty without a head to guide its activity, the vicious Loves which form the frame of the broken looking-glaſs, the cards, dice, piſ⯑tols, &c. ſome the emblematical, ſome the real complement of ſuch a ſcene, all ſpeak ſufficiently for themſelves. One alluſion however, if not noticed here, may perhaps eſcape the attention of the ſpectator, viz. that of the two piſtols lying on the overturned table in ſuch a direction as ſhews they have been preſented againſt each other, which is meant to indicate what is very probable to have paſſed amongſt thoſe who herd together without ſo⯑cial confidence, and in whom mutual intimacy never fails to produce reciprocal diſtruſt.

PICTURE VIII. The GOOD GIRL Receives the honourable Addreſſes Of her Maſter.

TO relieve the mind from the painful emotions naturally ariſing from the laſt diſorderly ſcene, we are here preſented with an earneſt of the happi⯑neſs which our GOOD SERVANT is going to receive, as a reward for the virtue ſhe has preſerved from the contagion of example and the ſnares of tempta⯑tion. Her maſter has found it impoſſible to efface the impreſſion of her perſonal attractions; and, as [34]the uniform propriety of her conduct has added eſ⯑teem to his love, after an ineffectual conteſt, main⯑tained by his pride and the prejudices connected with the ſuperiority of his fortune and rank, he has at laſt determined not to "barter happineſs for ſtate," but to raiſe the object of his deſires to a ſituation, to which her virtues give her a juſt claim, and which her many excellent qualities may reaſonably be expected to adorn. To obviate therefore all ſuſpicion of any diſhonourable artifice, which his former libertine aſſaults might induce her to appre⯑hend, he has called her into his library, and has or⯑dered the venerable houſekeeper to attend as a wit⯑neſs of his formal offer of his hand in marriage. Young, handſome, and wealthy, it is natural to conceive that our heroine muſt have looked upon her maſter with feelings of regard, though reſtrain⯑ed by humility, reſulting from reflection on the diſ⯑parity of their conditions; and ſuch a ſentiment tends to enhance the merit of her former reſiſtance. Nor is it to be ſuppoſed that the licentious advances, he made towards her, have excited an unconquera⯑ble reſentment, ſince they have been ſucceeded by reſpect and the juſt ſenſe of her real value. The various emotions of ſurprize, modeſty, pleaſure, and gratitude, operate ſo forcibly, that ſhe throws herſelf upon her knees; but is raiſed by her maſter, who kiſſes her trembling hand with ecſtaſy, while the friendly houſekeeper is in an attitude of pious [35]acknowledgement to heaven for thus recompenſing that goodneſs, which her maternal care and con⯑ſtant admonitions had contributed to direct and confirm. — The ornamental part of this plate is ſtill ſubordinate and acceſſory to the object generally in view. Several pictures adorn the room. That firſt entitled to our notice is ſuppoſed to be the fa⯑mous work of GUIDO; the ſubject of which is, LIBERALITY rewarding MODESTY. The next re⯑preſents the triumph of love over a ſatyr; by which we are of courſe to underſtand, that the impulſe of a brutal inclination has given way to a refined ſenti⯑ment of virtuous tenderneſs. Another picture re⯑preſents a wedding, and, near it, is one of an allego⯑rical kind, exhibiting the SEASONS dancing in a ring, while TIME is acting as muſician; implying the continued happineſs that is to be expected from an union of hearts, in which no ſordid views of in⯑tereſt have had the leaſt ſhare. The next picture is partly hid behind the door, to ſignify the awful myſtery that veils a future ſtate; but, as the ſubject is an angelic hoſt, we are to infer, that bliſs in ano⯑ther life is to be the final lot of thoſe who conduct themſelves properly through the preſent. The pic⯑ture of a ſtorm is placed behind the maſter of the houſe, to indicate the ſtruggles he ſuffered, while pride was contending with love in his heart; but the mental tempeſt has now paſſed away, as we ſee far⯑ther exemplified by the picture of a calm on the [36]other ſide, expreſſive of the tranquillity of his feel⯑ings; and, being a morning ſcene, of the opening proſpect of connubial felicity.

PICTURE IX. The WANTON, Dying in Poverty and Diſeaſe, Viſited by the MODEST GIRL.

THE ſcenes, which we have hitherto contem⯑plated, have progreſſively led us to one of the moſt affecting nature, in which we at length be⯑hold the unhappy victim of vice and deluſion arrived [38]at a cataſtrophe as miſerable as the tenor of her life has been erroneous: ſuch indeed as is the natu⯑ral effect of the conduct we have before witneſſed, and ſuch as on a moment's recollection we ſhall perceive to be more immediately the conſequence of the unhappy ſtate of riot and debauchery in which we laſt left her.

The ſplendor of vanity, the intemperance of laughter, the feveriſh triumph of preſumption and heedleſs arrogance, are ceaſed. While the wanton flew headlong and irrevocably through the paths which pleaſure has ſtrewed with bloſſoms torn rude⯑ly from the ſtalk, ſhe was not aware that poverty and diſeaſe lurked on her way; they have aſſailed her, they have ſeized her, they have laden her with anguiſh, which ſhe was equally unprepared and una⯑ble to ſupport, and the ſufferings of a diſtempered frame are at laſt about to be cloſed in death.

The preſent ſcene exhibits the poor friendleſs proſtitute in the agonies of expiring life, deſtitute of every means of relief, and wanting all thoſe conſo⯑lations and ſupports, which in this awful period at⯑tend the virtuous. An outcaſt from ſociety, which ſhe has diſhonoured; baniſhed from that humanity and benevolence, whoſe protection ſhe has forfeited; to whom in this hour of extreme neceſſity does ſhe conſign herſelf, to watch the painful moments of [39]her diſſolution? The miniſter of this charge, ‘fit watch in ſuch a night,’ is before us. A wretch, in whom, hardened by being a continual witneſs of ſuch ſcenes of miſery, every veſtige of feeling ap⯑pears to be finally extinguiſhed. Callous to the an⯑guiſh ſhe was hired to relieve, inſtead of attending to the pitiable object of her care, aſſiduouſly inqui⯑ring her wants, or adminiſtering comfort to her laſt moments, her only ſolicitude appears to have been habitually directed to herſelf. Her body ſweltering and bloated with gluttony, the dram and cordial "ſtanding rubrick" on her cheek, this miſcreant, wholly inebriated, ſnores over the exhauſted flaggon, while the lamentable victim of more fatal imprudence, dropping the phial of unavailing medicine, expires unnoticed at her feet. — Such is inevitably the mi⯑ſerable exit of thoſe, whom a diſgraceful and an ill⯑ſpent life leaves diſregarded and forlorn in death.

In a gloomy chamber, near whoſe door a rope, ſuſpended from the roof, reminds us of ſome former ſufferer, who has ſought relief in ſuicide, we be⯑hold our unfortunate heroine, lying on a ruined floor, with no other bed than a little ſtraw, while the fragments of a wretched meal and the tattered remnants of her former gaiety, a faded feather, hat, and cloak, are ſtrewed on the ground around her, and at her ſide a poor little innocent, ignorant of its pitiable ſituation, embraces with filial tender⯑neſs [40]his cold and lifeleſs mother, on whoſe ear the laſt ſounds that vibrated, were the cries of this her now deſtitute and helpleſs orphan.

From objects, the one ſo affecting, the other ſo diſguſting, we ſhould ſhrink at once with terror, if our attention were not more pleaſingly drawn to the engaging and now doubly-intereſting appearance of the former amiable friend and companion, who, though too late to afford the relief that would have gratified her tender heart, has ſought out the gloo⯑my retreat of poverty and ſhame; and, overcome with grief at the ſight which preſents itſelf to her, wipes from her eyes the tears that fall for the ſuffer⯑ings of a fellow-creature; ‘"Tears, from ſweet Virtue's ſource, benevolent to all."’

Prepared to offer every means of aſſiſtance, ſhe has filled her frugal purſe with the ſavings of her own induſtry, and the larger bounty which her en⯑treaties, ever the ready advocates of diſtreſs, have obtained from the worthy and benevolent houſe⯑keeper. In the hurry of taking her purſe from her pocket, ſhe has dropped her houſewife; which be⯑ing obſerved by the little meſſenger of gluttony, juſt returning to the old nurſe with a freſh ſupply of her favourite cordial, accuſtomed to watch the op⯑portunities of knavery, he is artfully employed in [41]drawing it, by means of a crooked ſtick, towards the door, behind which he hides himſelf during the commiſſion of the theft. A melancholy pre⯑ſage of that ruinous courſe of life, which muſt bring him to the moſt fatal and diſgraceful end.—The principal intention of the ſcene, exhibited to us in this picture, may be more forcibly impreſſed by the following lines:

PICTURE X. and LAST. The GOOD GIRL, Married to her Maſter. The WANTON Laid in her Grave.

AS in the laſt ſcene was ended the life of one, the diſaſtrous heroine of theſe deſigns, in the preſent, the other, the good girl, is ſuppoſed to have received a reward acquired by virtuous perſeverance in her duty, and is become the wife of [44]a man, in whom the ſtrict propriety of her beha⯑viour has changed illicit deſire into reſpect and love; and we are thus arrived at the concluſion of our moral drama. The hand of the wealthy and gene⯑rous maſter atones for the indiſcretion which had ſerved to prove the virtues of this child of modeſ⯑ty; and ſhe is, in the bloom of life, raiſed to a ſtate of affluence, and placed in the poſſeſſion of all that promiſes the utmoſt happineſs in this world. After mutual faith plighted at the altar, the ena⯑moured bridegroom conducts her to his carriage, and her old friend and guardian, the benevolent houſekeeper, enjoys the heartfelt ſatisfaction of ſee⯑ing her pious admonitions thus ſingularly recom⯑penſed.

While, on one ſide of this picture, ſo bright a proſpect opens itſelf before us, on the other, we ſee the laſt ſad offices paid to the remains of the once gay, healthy, and beautiful wanton. The clergy⯑man, ſtill intereſted in the happineſs of the young couple, whoſe hands he has joined, advances to per⯑form the ſolemn rites: but his ſacred character is not ſufficient to inſpire in the attendants of the fu⯑neral that decency which the occaſion ſurely de⯑mands. The coſſin is ſurrounded by the former comrades of the deceaſed, amongſt which the drunken nurſe, who was preſent at her laſt mo⯑ments, is diſtinguiſhed by the ſame intemperance [45]that before marked her character; to the indulgence of which all times and all circumſtances are, under various pretences, made equally ſubſervient. To thoſe of a lighter or more licentious turn of think⯑ing, who are inclined to look rather with compaſ⯑ſion than cenſure on her whoſe follies are now laid for ever in the duſt, it will afford ſome conſolation, that all ſorrow, all ſuffering, all pain, and all re⯑morſe, are here cloſed in the peaceful grave; but a reflecting mind, endued with real ſenſibility, will not forbear to ſigh on recollecting that a youth of hopeful promiſe, a temper ſuited to hilarity, and a health calculated to ſweeten toil and render virtuous induſtry delightful, were all waſted with thankleſs profuſion in the gradual deſtruction of every bodily and mental conſolation, and life at laſt haſtily cut off in miſery.

How ſtrikingly contraſted is the fate of theſe two girls, of whom we are now going to take leave! Both ſtarted in the race of life with equal preten⯑ſions to hope and ſucceſs. The one, by a placid and even courſe, has reached a goal, to which pru⯑dence directed and virtue led her; the other, diſ⯑daining the bridle of inſtruction, flung herſelf mad⯑ly on precipices and quickſands, in which ſhe is at laſt fallen and overwhelmed.

[46]The ſeveral incidental circumſtances introduced into this picture, though not immediately dependent on the principal ſubject, muſt not be wholly paſſed over without notice. On the wall of the church we perceive a fragment of a broken monument, which was formerly placed there in the vain preſumption of perpetuating the memory of its now-forgotten object; its boaſt being rendered ineffectual by the ravages of time or accident, which have ſwept away the name of him whom it was intended to im⯑mortalize. In the corner of the picture, a chim⯑ney-ſweeper, careleſſly inſulting over the dead with a triumph which he knows muſt now be ſuf⯑fered with impunity, is ſeated on the tomb of a ſtately warrior, whoſe rank once inſpired awe, and whoſe looks ſtruck terror into the hearts of all be⯑holders. What greater humiliation of mortal vani⯑ty, or what greater proof can be exhibited that every man's beſt monument is found in his vir⯑tues, and that diſtinctions ceaſe to be regarded with reverence, when they are no longer uſeful to the world.

It may perhaps ſeem neceſſary to make ſome a⯑pology for repreſenting an union between perſons of unequal rank as the ſpecimen of a reward, which [47]ſhould excite others to imitation. In the view of a general rule, it cannot be doubted that, from the many favourable co-incidences of manners, con⯑nections, and opinions, which ariſe from a ſimila⯑rity of education in ſimilar ſtations, the moſt fre⯑quent chances of happineſs will be found in a part⯑ner of equal rank; but it will ſurely be allowed that virtue and merit may be found equally in the lower as in the higher claſſes of life, and that theſe endow⯑ments will generally meet with their reward. In an inſtance like the preſent, a virtuous young woman, whoſe amiable diſpoſition and qualities have been demonſtrated in every part of her conduct, is ſuffi⯑ciently proved to be a valuable acquiſition to any rank; and it will ſcarcely be denied that no fortui⯑tous difference of manners or deportment can ſo far ſuperſede her real virtues as to become a bar to the moſt perfect ſtate of domeſtic connubial happineſs. A ſhort review of the ſcenes, in which ſhe has been ſhewn, will ſerve to evince this truth: — in the firſt ſtage of this work, ſhe is repreſented as careful and induſtrious; in the ſecond, ſhe meekly, humbly, and with a due ſenſe of its value, receives whole⯑ſome inſtruction and admonition; in the fourth, ſhe ſhews innocence and piety; in the fifth, a tender and compaſſionate heart; in the ſixth, inflexible chaſ⯑tity; in the eighth, gratitude, modeſty, and humili⯑ty; and, in the ninth, ſhe appears benevolent, charitable, and forgiving.

[48]Surely the queſtion may with ſafety be aſked, whether ſuch a character does not deſerve a reward, at leaſt equal to that with which ſhe is crowned in this our GRAPHIC and (we truſt we ſhall again be allowed ſo to call it) our MORAL DRAMA.