omen introduced, walking in the gallery, as curious spectators of this
melancholy sight; one of whom is supposed, in a whisper, to bid the
other observe the naked man, which she takes an opportunity of doing by
a leer through the sticks of her fan.

Thus, imagining the hero of our piece to expire raving mad, the story is
finished, and little else remains but to close it with a proper
application. Reflect then, ye parents, on this tragic tale; consider
with yourselves, that the ruin of a child is too often owing to the
imprudence of a father. Had the young man, whose story we have related,
been taught the proper use of money, had his parent given him some
insight into life, and graven, as it were, upon his heart, the precepts
of religion, with an abhorrence of vice, our youth would, in all
probability, have taken a contrary course, lived a credit to his
friends, and an honour to his country.

[Illustration: THE RAKE'S PROGRESS.

PLATE 8.

SCENE IN BEDLAM.]

THE DISTRESSED POET.

This Plate describes, in the strongest colours, the distress of an
author without friends to patronise him. Seated upon the side of his
bed, without a shirt, but wrapped in an old night-gown, he is now
spinning a poem upon "Riches:" of their _use_ he probably knoweth
little; and of their _abuse_,--if judgment can be formed from
externals,--_certes_, he knoweth less. Enchanted, impressed, inspired
with his subject, he is disturbed by a nymph of the _lactarium_. Her
shrill-sounding voice awakes one of the _little loves_, whose _chorus_
disturbs his meditations. A link of the golden chain is broken!--a
thought is lost!--to recover it, his hand becomes a substitute for the
barber's comb:--enraged at the noise, he tortures his head for the
fleeting idea; but, ah! no thought is there!

Proudly conscious that the lines already written are sterling, he
possesses by anticipation the mines of Peru, a view of which hangs over
his head. Upon the table we see "Byshe's Art of Poetry;" for, like the
pack-horse, who cannot travel without his _bells_, he cannot climb the
hill of Parnassus without his _jingling-book_. On the floor lies the
"Grub-street Journal," to which valuable repository of genius and taste
he is probably a contributor. To show that he is a master of the
PROFOUND, and will envelope his subject in a cloud, his pipe and
tobacco-box, those friends to cogitation deep, are close to him.

His wife, mending that part of his dress, in