v ' bar 
popular and unconftitutional fcheme, that, in conjunction 
with other members, he obliged the minidry entirely to 
lay it afide. In 1735, he moved for leave to bring in a 
bill to limit the number of playhoufcS, and reftrain the' 
licentioufnefs of players, which was now encreafed to an 
amazing degree ; and, though the bill mifcarried at that 
time, it was yet, about two years after, enaded into a law, 
which (till continues in torce. In 1736, he lerved, with 
his brother-in-law, Sir Robert Godfchall, Knt. alderman 
of Bifliopfgate-ward, the ollice of flieriff of the city of 
London and county of Middlefex. In 1737 he formed a 
fcheme for reducing the intered on the national debt; a 
project which, though it did not at that time fucceed, was, 
neverthelefs, afterwards carried- into execution, to the 
great emolument of the trading part of the nation. In 
1738 he ferved the high office of lord-mayor of London; 
in which lituation he did his duty with the minuted fcrtt- 
pulolity. A young woman, decently dreffed, was late at 
night brought to him at the Manfion-houfe by a watch¬ 
man, as a proditute, die having been found alone in 
the dreets at midnight. She requeded to be heard in her 
defence. Circumdances w'erc, however, fo much againd 
Iier, that Sir John alked, if die could produce any per- 
ion to her character ? She faid, that her relations lived a 
great way off", as far as Whitechapel; and that it would 
be inconvenient to him to wait till they could be produced. 
He laid, as a magidrate his time was that of the public, 
and their convenience his; and that he would willingly lit 
up till her friends could come, and prevent her being lent 
to prifon. The girl lent to Whitechapel for fome of her 
friends, who gave her an exceeding good character, and 
corroborated the reafons die gave for being out fo'late. 
This excellent magidrate laid, that he had never felt more 
fincere pleafure in his life; and, after advifing her to be 
more cautious in future, dilmilfed her. A worthy exam¬ 
ple this for our modern magiltrates, who are not perhaps 
fufficiently cautious with refpedt to lending perfons to pin¬ 
ion on very trivial fufpicions, nor in keeping them there 
by way of punilliment for petty crimes; confining them 
in thole places of vvickednefs and defpair, where, as Dr. 
johnfon obferves, “ the lewd inflame the lewd, the w ick¬ 
ed encourage the wicked ; and where a criminal is taught 
to do that with more cunning which he had been tiled to 
do with Iefs.” 
Sir John Barnard, when he quitted the perfualion of the 
Quakers, did not lay afide the limplicity of his manners 
and the integrity of his conduct. When Sir Robert Wal¬ 
pole, then prime minider, was one day whifpering to the 
fpeaker of the hoitfe of commons, who leaned towards 
him over the arm of his chair at the time that Sir John 
was (peaking, he exclaimed, “ Mr. Speaker, I addrefs 
jnyfeff to you, and not to your chair ; I will be heard ; I 
call that gentleman to order.” The fpeaker immediately 
turned about, begged Sir John’s pardon, and requeded him 
to proceed. The late Mr. Rob. Dingley tiled to fay, that 
Sir John refufed to accept of the pod of chancellor of the 
Exchequer, when it was odered to him, in 1746. Lord 
Chatham (then Mr. Pitt), a man not particularly liberal in 
his praifes, gave Sir John the dignified appellation of the 
Great Commoner ; an appellation which with equal proprie¬ 
ty was afterwards bellowed upon himfelf. When, by-the 
death of Sir James Thompfon, he became the fird on the 
lid of the court of aldermen, the title of Father of the Ci¬ 
ty devolved upon him; a didinbtion to which, by his vir¬ 
tues, he had ever a claim; and which appears to have 
been confirmed in the mod forcible manner by the eredtion 
of a datue to him during his life-time in the Royal Ex¬ 
change; after which Sir John never made his appearance 
within that fabric, but tranlabled his bufinefs in the front 
of it. In July, 1758, to the inexprefliblc regret of his 
brother aldermen, and of all his fellow citizens, herelign- 
cd his gown, retired in a great meafure from public bufi- 
riefs, and continued to live chiefly in a private manner at 
Clapham ; where, after having attained to near the age of 
eighty, he died the 29th of Au'gud, 1766. 
Barnard or Bernard (John); was born at Cador in 
Lincolndiire, and educated at Cambridge. After feveral 
preferments, lie was made a prebendary of the church of 
Lincoln. He wrote Cenfura Clerior, againd fcandalous 
miniders not fit to be redored to church-livings ; the Life 
of Dr. Heylyn ; and a few other works. He died at New¬ 
ark, Aiqgud 17, 16S3. 
Barnard Castle, a market-town in the county of 
Durham, is 254” miles from London ; it dands on the ri¬ 
ver Tees, fifteen miles from Richmond in Yorkdiire, and 
twenty-fix from Durham. The cadle was built originally 
by Bernard Baliol, great grandfather of John Baliol, whom 
Edward I. made king of Scotland. It was a large (true- 
turc, lituated on a rock, great part of which is dill dand- 
ing, guarded upon one fide by the river Tees, and in the 
bilhopric of Durham. The prelcnt cadle, which is on the 
wed fide of the town, is of great antiquity, and the build¬ 
ings elegant, being of white done; the principal dreet is 
(pacious, and near a mile long. It is not incorporated, 
but is governed by a deward and jury, of the manor of 
Darlington, which conlills of the principal inhabitants. 
It is very populous. At the foot of the market-place 
(lands an open drubturc of bne freedone work, cupolaed, 
and covered with blue date, furrounded with an octagon 
colonnade, as a (land for the market-people. Notwith- 
danding this is an inland town, it has one of the larged 
corn-markets in the north of England, but is furrounded 
by fix or eight thoufand acres of land, capable of the 
higlied improvement by cultivation, lying walie. Its fairs 
are on Eader-Monday, Wednefday in Whitfun-week, St. 
James’s day, and July 25. Market on Wednefday. It 
contains about three thoufand inhabitants; once famous 
for white leather bridles, and the fird place where tain- 
mys or Scotch camblets were made, a woollen Huff, thir¬ 
ty yards in length and about eighteen inches in breadth : 
about four hundred weavers are yet employed in this 
branch of trade. This town lies in the parilh of Gain- 
ford, a village eight miles dillant, ead, on the turnpike- 
road leading to Stockton-upon-Tees, and holds a perpe¬ 
tual curacy under the vicar of that place, who enjoys his 
living under Trinity College, Cambridge. 
From the Yorklhire banks, adjoining the little village 
of Startforth, you look upon the fouth-wed front of the 
cadle, as it crowns the cliffs which overhang the river : 
an awful and folemn afpedt marks the whole edifice, in 
many parts covered with ivy. To the left, the river is 
extended in a beautiful canal, bordered with woods and. 
meads, terminated by fome bold rocks fringed with oaks, 
and furm£>unted by Hills of padure-ground, on which a 
little farmhold Hands, and gives an agreeable termination 
to the profpedt. To the right, the river falls incafcades, 
and, winding from the eye, is concealed for near a mile 
upon the landfcape, when again it breaks out upon the 
view, through an avenue of .hanging woods; the rich 
lands on both lides of the river are grouped with fine cat¬ 
tle and fiieep. At the greated diltance, Hamilton hills 
are feen, of a dulky hue, which didinguifh them from the 
Iky. The banks of the Tees, a little below the town, af¬ 
ford the mod plealing and romantic walks: a (pacious 
plain of meadow-ground lies on the river’s brink, front 
whence, in gradual afcents, the lands arife, varied with 
padure, tillage, and meads, interfperfed with coppices and 
oaken groves. From an eminence called Barberry Rigs, 
(anatural terrace of lialf-a-milc in length,) as you look 
down from the river, the folemn ruins of Atheldan Ab¬ 
bey, placed on a fine eminence, (kirted with fycamores. 
Hand to the right. Beneath the dream falls in cafcades, 
over rocks of black marble pouring its foaming waters 
through the elevated arch of Rookby new bridge. On 
the river’s banks, (which beneath the bridge are rocky and 
deep,) a grove of oaks forms an avenue terminated by 
Rookby Hall; looking up the dream, which is feen mean¬ 
dering for near a mile, margined with rich inclofures, on 
one hand you have a profpeCt of the church and part of 
the town of Barnard Cadle, other parts being intercepted 
