"Difficulties crowd so fast upon our hero, that at the age of twenty-five, which he seems to have attained in the fifth plate, we find him driven to the necessity of marrying a woman, whom he detests, for her fortune. The _composition_ here is very good; and yet we have a disagreeable regularity in the climax of the three figures, the maid, the bride, and the bride-groom.--The _light_ is not ill distributed. The principal figure too is _graceful_; and there is strong _expression_ in the seeming tranquillity of his features. He hides his contempt of the object before him as well as he can; and yet he cannot do it. She too has as much meaning as can appear thro' the deformity of her features. The clergyman's face we are all well acquainted with, and also his wig; tho' we cannot pretend to say, where we have seen either. The clerk too is an admirable fellow.--The _perspective_ is well understood; but the church is too small;[B] and the wooden post, which seems to have no use, divides the picture very disagreeably.--The creed lost, the commandments broken, and the poor's-box obstructed by a cobweb, are all excellent strokes of satirical humour. "The fortune, which our adventurer has just received, enables him to make one push more at the gaming-table. He is exhibited, in the sixth print, venting curses on his folly for having lost his last stake.--This is upon the whole, perhaps, the best print of the set. The horrid scene it describes was never more inimitably drawn. The _composition_ is artful, and natural. If the shape of the whole be not quite pleasing, the figures are so well grouped, and with so much ease and variety, that you cannot take offence.--In point of light, it is more culpable. There is not shade enough among the figures to balance the glare. If the neck-cloth and weepers of the gentleman in mourning had been removed, and his hands thrown into shade, even that alone would have improved the effect.--The _expression_, in almost every figure, is admirable; and the whole is a strong representation of the human mind in a storm. Three stages of that species of madness, which attends gaming, are here described. On the first shock, all is inward dismay. The ruined gamester is representing leaning against a wall, with his arms across, lost in an agony of horror. Perhaps never passion was described with so much force. In a short time this horrible gloom bursts into a storm of fury: he tears in pieces what comes next him; and, kneeling down, invokes curses upon himself. He next attacks others; every one in his turn whom he imagines to have been instrumental in his ruin.--The eager joy of the winning gamesters, the attention of the usurer, the vehemence of the watchman, and the profound reverie of the highwayman, are all admirably marked. There is great coolness too expressed in the little we see of the fat gentleman at the end of the table. The figure opposing the mad-man is