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.—The interesting and often-quoted statement made some time since by Lord Palmerston, respecting the uninterrupted descent for nearly eight centuries, from father to son, of a small estate in his own neighbourhood in the new forest, relates, as is well-known, to the family of Purkis, the lime-burner, who picked up the body of William Rufus, and carried it in his humble cart to Winchester to receive the last sad rites. But we can place upon record a case of still longer descent of a small property among persons in no way allied to rank and fortune, and who have never risen above the condition of yeomen; while, we believe, they have never fallen below it. At Ambrose’s Barn, on the borders of the parish of Thorpe, near Chertsey, still resides a farmer of the name of Wapshot, whose ancestors have lived, without a break, upon the same spot, ever since the reign of Alfred the Great, by whom the farm was granted to Reginald Wapshot. There are several families among our untitled gentry—the county aristocracy, who can trace their names and possessions in a direct male descent back to the Saxon times; but below that rank we are not aware of a more striking instance of permanence among change than the past history of the Wapshots.

.—The late Earl of Buchan, brother of Lord Chancellor Erskine, himself an accomplished scholar and man of letters, came into possession of his title whilst quite a young man. At that period it was the practice, as no doubt it had been from the time of the Union, for the ministry of the day, at each new election, to forward to every Scottish peer a list of the names of sixteen of his fellow peers who should be chosen to represent the nobles of Scotland in the House of Lords; and for nearly a century the descendants of some of the most illustrious members of the Scottish Peerage had tamely submitted. The Earl of Buchan regarded this submission as an insult to his order; and being a man of strong feelings and apt to use great plainness of speech, he took an early opportunity of declaring in public, that any Secretary of State who should insult him with such an application, should wash out the affront with his blood. Duels were at that date in the height of fashion; and doubtless this was one reason why the practice was at once discontinued, the ministers being obliged thenceforth to find out some other less offensive way of exercising their influence over the elections of the Scotch Representative Peers. Lord Buchan was an eccentric being, and after having asserted and secured this amount of freedom for his brethren, he took no further part in the matter, and to the end of his long life never again troubled himself to give his vote in the elections at Holyrood.

was a happy week which I spent at Avranches eleven years since, in the midst of the preparations and pleasing bustle which even the humblest wedding seldom fails to call forth. It was to attend Emma’s wedding that I had, with some difficulty, obtained a brief leave of absence. Emma was my sister, and she and I were alone in the world, with no nearer relation than the kind old aunt with whom Emma had lived since our mother died. This aunt’s name was Pearson, and she was one of the English residents at Avranches, whom economical living had allured to the coast of Normandy. At Avranches, then, Emma had lived for two years, and in that bleak air the early delicacy of her health grew more and more perceptible, until aunt Pearson became alarmed, and consulted a physician. The physician looked grave, and talked of the seeds of consumption, of prudence, and of a warmer climate. It was one of those prescriptions easier to give than to follow.

For Aunt Pearson was poor, Emma had nothing, or next to nothing, and I, her brother, a second lieutenant of Marines, possessed little more than my pay. We were the children of a clergyman, who had been too good a parish priest to die rich, and the kind aunt herself had but a modest annuity whereon to maintain her niece and herself, while a migration to the south would have overtasked her slender purse. Under these circumstances, I was rejoiced to hear that Emma’s long engagement to Henry Hilton was at last to be brought to a happy close. Harry, who had been a school-friend of mine, and visited at the Vicarage when we were all children together, was a good fellow and a clever one, though a little fiery of temper and stubborn of will. He loved Emma very fondly and faithfully, and they had been long troth-plighted, conditionally on the young man’s getting his father’s consent. And, by degrees, old Mr. Hilton, a rich merchant at Bordeaux, senior partner in the great house of Hilton and Vaillant, had been won over to receive as his daughter-in-law a girl who had no portion but a sweet nature and a fair face. The young folks were to be married at once, and to set up house at Bordeaux, with Mr. Hilton, who was a widower, with no other child than Henry, already a junior partner in the firm.

Dr. Briggs, the English physician who played the part of Galen to the little British colony, and who accommodated himself with a pretty good grace to the five-franc fees that in that needy community were the substitutes for guineas, congratulated me on my sister’s prospects.

“Miss Lethbridge,” said the worthy old man, “has a good constitution, apart from the hereditary predisposition to phthisis, and she has youth on her side. In the mild air of the southern coast, she may recover her strength, and live long and happily. But another winter in this cold and rainy climate wouldWell, never mind that now. I have said enough, at any rate, to assure you that my congratulations on your sister’s marriage are not a mere compliment.”

My leave of absence, as I have said, was short, since H.M.S., on board of which I was junior marine officer, was to sail very soon for the West Indies, and I had only obtained permission to attend my sister’s wedding, as an especial favour, and even my brother-in-law was anxious to get back to Bordeaux and his desk, as early as possible. His father and his senior partner were more