like a Denner, it is true, and the artist is often less solicitous about his method than about the result of it; yet they are soundly, straight-forwardly, and skilfully executed.  Lady Bingley’s red hair, Carestini’s nostril, are shown in the simplest and directest manner.  Everywhere the desired effect is exactly produced, and without effort.  Take, as an illustration, the inkstand in the first scene, with its bell and sand-caster.  In these days it would be a patient trompe-l’oeil, probably better done than the figures using it.  Here it is merely indicated, not elaborated; it holds its exact place as a piece of furniture, and nothing more.  And at this point it may be observed that if in the ensuing descriptions we should speak of colour, the reader will remember we are describing, not the performances of Messrs. Ravenet and the rest, but Hogarth’s original pictures at Trafalgar Square.  It is the more necessary to bear this in mind, because, besides being reversed, the paintings frequently differ in detail from the engravings.

The first of the series represents the signing of the marriage contract.  The scene, as the artist is careful to signify by the ostentatious coronets on the furniture and accessories (they are to be discerned even on the crutches), is laid in the house of an earl, who, with his gouty foot swathed in flannels, seems with a superb—­if somewhat stiff-jointed—­dignity to be addressing certain pompous observations respecting himself and his pedigree (dating from William the Conqueror) to a sober-looking personage opposite, who, horn-spectacles on nose, is peering at the endorsement of the “Marriage Settlem^t of the R^t Hon^ble.  Lord Vincent [Squanderfield]."[24] This second figure, which is that of a London merchant, with its turned-in toes, the point of the sword-sheath between the legs, and the awkward constraint of its attitude, forms an admirable contrast to the other.  A massive gold chain denotes the wearer to be an alderman.  Between the two is a third person, perhaps the merchant’s confidential clerk or cashier, who holds out a “Mortgage” to the Earl.  Gold and notes lie upon the table, where are also an inkstand, sealing-wax, and a lighted candle in which a “thief” is conspicuous.  At the back of this trio is the betrothed couple—­the earl’s son and the alderman’s daughter.  It is, in fact, an alliance of sacs et parchemins, in which the young people are involved rather than interested.  The lady, who looks young and pretty in her bridal-dress, wears a mingled expression of mauvaise honte and distaste for her position, and trifles with the ring, which she has strung upon her handkerchief, while a brisk and well-built young lawyer, who trims a pen, bends towards her with a whispered compliment.  Meantime the Viscount—­a frail, effeminate-looking figure, holding an open snuff-box, from which he affectedly lifts a pinch—­turns from his fiancee with a smirk of complacent foppery towards a pier-glass at his side.  His