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Updated: May 3, 2025
Like a wise and good man, he leaves the question of his household entirely to the women. They like going to the play. They like going to Greenwich. They like coming to a party at Bachelor's hall. They are up to all sorts of fun, in a word; in which taste the good-natured Newboy acquiesces, provided he is left to follow his own.
He has only of late had a rush of prosperity, and turned Parliament man; for his distant cousin, of the ancient house of Newboy of shire, dying, Fred then making believe to practise at the bar, and living with the utmost modesty in Gray's Inn Road found himself master of a fortune, and a great house in the country; of which getting tired, as in the course of nature he should, he came up to London, and took that fine mansion in our Gardens.
At this juncture Miss Clarissa Newboy enters in a pink paletot, trimmed with swansdown looking like an angel and we exchange glances of what shall I say? of sympathy on both parts, and consummate rapture on mine. But this is by-play. Mrs. N. Good night, Frederick. I think we shall be late. Mr. N. You won't wake me, I dare say; and you don't expect a public man to sit up. Mrs.
He falls asleep pretty assiduously too after that meal a practice which I can well pardon in him for, between ourselves, his wife, Maria Newboy, and his sister, Clarissa, are the loveliest and kindest of their sex, and I would rather hear their innocent prattle, and lively talk about their neighbors, than the best wisdom from the wisest man that ever wore a beard.
"One was a pretty, black-eyed baby, and the other a freckle-faced, red-haired, barefooted newboy." "Good! Good! Good!" screamed the mandarin, in an ecstasy of delight. "Those are the ones who torment me the most! Change every newboy you meet into a pig!" "Very well," answered the butterfly, quietly, and ate its supper of molasses. Several days were passed by the butterfly in the same manner.
He represents Mumborough in Parliament, a seat which has been time out of mind occupied by a Newboy. Though he does not speak, being a great deal too rich, sensible, and lazy, he somehow occupies himself with reading blue-books, and indeed talks a great deal too much good sense of late over his dinner-table, where there is always a cover for the present writer.
It was only on the 17th of the month, that, having had the honor to dine at the house, when, after dinner, which took place at eight, we left Newboy to his blue-books, and went up stairs and sang a little to the guitar afterwards it was only on the 17th December, the night of Lady Sowerby's party, that the following dialogue took place in the boudoir, whither Newboy, blue-books in hand, had ascended.
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