Sowerby as a candidate for the county, she was standing by
her own tenant. It also became known, in the course of the battle,
that Miss Dunstable had herself at last succumbed, and that she
was about to marry Dr. Thorne of Greshamsbury, or the "Greshamsbury
apothecary," as the adverse party now delighted to call him. "He has
been little better than a quack all his life," said Dr. Fillgrave,
the eminent physician of Barchester, "and now he is going to marry a
quack's daughter." By which, and the like to which, Dr. Thorne did
not allow himself to be much annoyed. But all this gave rise to a
very pretty series of squibs arranged between Mr. Fothergill and Mr.
Closerstill, the electioneering agent. Mr. Sowerby was named "the
lady's pet," and descriptions were given of the lady who kept
this pet, which were by no means flattering to Miss Dunstable's
appearance, or manners, or age. And then the western division of
the county was asked in a grave tone--as counties and boroughs
are asked by means of advertisements stuck up on blind walls and
barn doors--whether it was fitting and proper that it should be
represented by a woman. Upon which the county was again asked whether
it was fitting and proper that it should be represented by a duke.
And then the question became more personal as against Miss Dunstable,
and inquiry was urged whether the county would not be indelibly
disgraced if it were not only handed over to a woman, but handed over
to a woman who sold the oil of Lebanon.
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