31.—Died at Topcroft Rectory, the Rev. Edward Wilson, aged 75. Mr. Wilson, early in life, wrote “The Martyr of Carthage” in “Burns’s Englishman’s Library.” Soon afterwards, his mind, unhappily, became clouded, and his services were lost to the Church for over twenty years. When at length a surprising recovery restored him to his friends, he returned to the study of theology and the arts with a vigour and perseverance that would have been remarkable in a young man of unbroken health. In his youth Mr. Wilson was no mean poet, and his unpublished verses received the warm praise of Wordsworth. He had, too, the makings of a great painter, and some of his best efforts in colouring were executed only a few weeks before his death. Mr. Wilson was brother of Sir Archdale Wilson, Bart., of Delhi, and first cousin to Henry Wilson, Lord Berners, at whose decease the barony, one of the oldest in England, passed, through an heiress, into another name. The family was descended from Bourchier, Lord Berners, the translator of Froissart, and through him from Bourchier, the Earl of Essex and his wife, a granddaughter of Edward III. NOVEMBER. 6.—Died at Lynn, Mr. F. Reynolds, formerly of Newton next Castleacre, at an advanced age, and in very reduced circumstances. “The deceased for many years was known by the sobriquet of ‘The Marquis,’ which was given him when he kept a pack of harriers at his own expense, and with which he had good sport. Once in pursuit of a stolen horse, for a neighbour, he drove one of his hunters, a bay blood horse, 100 miles in ten hours, only stopping once, namely, at Six Mile Bottom, near Newmarket, where he gave his horse some corn from his own bag, and fetched him water in his hat from a brook. One of his first, and, perhaps, best hunters, that he trained to such perfection, was a bay thoroughbred mare by Old Whisker, bred by Chifney, the celebrated jockey. She became a distinguished hunter with the Marham Staghounds. For Chip he gave but £8, and this horse was afterwards sold by Mr. Anderson for 500 guineas. Grey Tail, too, was sold by Mr. Taylor for 400 guineas, and Sweep, bought for £10, was sold by Mr. Percival for 300 guineas; whilst poor old Hawk struggled on with him in his decline, winning him a few pounds at country races by his indomitable pluck, and carrying him miles and miles when other people were at rest. Although Mr. Reynolds had his failings, no one could impeach his honour. He possessed such peculiar blandness, free from haughty and unkind feeling, that he was always regarded with something more than the common courtesy of life. He received, in his dying illness, the greatest attention from his old servant Peter, his former whip.”