nd produced

"The wreck of flower-pots, and the crash of pans!"

From the inn she is taken to the house of the procuress, divested of her
home-spun garb, dressed in the gayest style of the day; and the tender
native hue of her complexion incrusted with paint, and disguised by
patches. She is then introduced to Colonel Chartres, and by artful
flattery and liberal promises, becomes intoxicated with the dreams of
imaginary greatness. A short time convinces her of how light a breath
these promises were composed. Deserted by her keeper, and terrified by
threats of an immediate arrest for the pompous paraphernalia of
prostitution, after being a short time protected by one of the tribe of
Levi, she is reduced to the hard necessity of wandering the streets, for
that precarious subsistence which flows from the drunken rake, or
profligate debauchee. Here her situation is truly pitiable! Chilled by
nipping frost and midnight dew, the repentant tear trickling on her
heaving bosom, she endeavours to drown reflection in draughts of
destructive poison. This, added to the contagious company of women of
her own description, vitiates her mind, eradicates the native seeds of
virtue, destroys that elegant and fascinating simplicity, which gives
additional charms to beauty, and leaves, in its place, art, affectation,
and impudence.

Neither the painter of a sublime picture, nor the writer of an heroic
poem, should introduce any trivial circumstances that are likely to draw
the attention from the principal figures. Such compositions should form
one great whole: minute detail will inevitably weaken their effect. But
in little stories, which record the domestic incidents of familiar life,
these accessary accompaniments, though trifling in themselves, acquire a
consequence from their situation; they add to the interest, and realise
the scene. In this, as in almost all that were delineated by Mr.
Hogarth, we see a close regard paid to things as they then were; by
which means his prints become a sort of historical record of the manners
of the age.

[Illustration: THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.

PLATE 1.

ENSNARED BY A PROCURESS.]

THE HARLOT'S PROGRESS.

PLATE II.

"Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy spring,
Thou shining, frail, adorn'd, but wretched thing
Old age will come; disease may come before,
And twenty prove as fatal as threescore!"

Entered into the path of infamy, the next scene exhibits our young