h friend of our admirable constitution
need not be said. That he was a firm, but conscientious upholder of our
Protestant religion, all who knew Barnes Newcome must be aware. That he
would do his utmost to advance the interests of this great agricultural,
this great manufacturing county and borough, we may be sure he avowed;
as that he would be (if returned to represent Newcome in Parliament) the
advocate of every rational reform, the unhesitating opponent of every
reckless innovation. In fine, Barnes Newcome's manifesto to the Electors
of Newcome was as authentic a document and gave him credit for as many
public virtues, as that slab over poor Sir Brian's bones in the chancel
of Newcome church, which commemorated the good qualities of the defunct,
and the grief of his heir.

In spite of the virtues, personal and inherited, of Barnes, his seat for
Newcome was not got without a contest. The dissenting interest and the
respectable Liberals of the borough wished to set up Samuel Higg, Esq.;
against Sir Barnes Newcome: and now it was that Barnes's civilities of
the previous year, aided by Madame de Moncontour's influence over her
brother, bore their fruit. Mr. Higg declined to stand against Sir Barnes
Newcome, although Higg's political principles were by no means those of
the honourable Baronet; and the candidate from London, whom the Newcome
extreme Radicals set up against Barnes, was nowhere on the poll when the
day of election came. So Barnes had the desire of his heart; and, within
two months after his father's demise, he sate in Parliament as Member
for Newcome.

The bulk of the late Baronet's property descended, of course, to his
eldest son: who grumbled, nevertheless, at the provision made for his
brothers and sisters, and that the town-house should have been left to
Lady Anne, who was too poor to inhabit it. But Park Lane is the best
situation in London, and Lady Anne's means were greatly improved by the
annual produce of the house in Park Lane, which, as we all know, was
occupied by a foreign minister for several subsequent seasons. Strange
mutations of fortune: old places; new faces; what Londoner does not see
and speculate upon them every day? Coelia's boudoir, who is dead with
the daisies over her at Kensal Green, is now the chamber where Delia
is consulting Dr. Locock, or Julia's children are romping: Florio's
dining-tables have now Pollio's wine upon them: Calista, being a widow,
and (to the surprise of every