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 was in old times, when men were knighted from father to son, you would be Sir John now.’

‘You don’t say so!’ murmured Durbeyfield.

‘In short,’ concluded the parson, decisively smacking his leg with his switch, ‘there’s hardly such another family in England.’

‘Daze my eyes, and isn’t there?’ said Durbeyfield. ‘And here have I been knocking about, year after year, from pillar to post, as if I was no more than the commonest feller in the parish And how long hev this news about me been knowed, Pa’son Tringham?’

The clergyman explained that, as far as he was aware, it had quite died out of knowledge, and could hardly be said to be known at all. His own investigations had begun on a day in the preceding spring when, having been engaged in tracing the vicissitudes of the D’Urberville family, he had observed Durbeyfield’s name on his waggon, and had thereupon been led to make inquiries, till he had no doubt on the subject.

‘At first I resolved not to disturb you with such a useless piece of information,’ said he. ‘However, our impulses are too strong for our