Dr. Addison, in 1834, showed that there were then living in that parish, on the eastern side of the hill, nearly double the number of persons, at 80 years of age, than were in all England at the same rate of population; and at 90, three times the number, without taking into account still older persons. In January, 1835, at Great Malvern, there were 60 persons residing, who were 70 years and upwards. Miss Sarah Davis, of Rock, died on the 17th of June, 1856, at the age of 103. She possessed all her faculties till within a few hours of her death, and had only suffered a little lameness from rheumatism. Till very lately she could see to thread her needle, and had been employed for half a century on Hollins' farm, as a market and charwoman. She had been a spinster all her life, and had a strong aversion to the male sex. The Worcester papers of July 12, 1856, recorded the death (on the 10th of the same month) of the Rev. James Hastings, rector of Martley, in his hundred and first year, and also that of Jane Doughty on the 8th, in her ninety-fifth year. The latter was a very remarkable instance, because the poor woman belonged to a class who enjoy but few of those comforts which would seem necessary for the prolongation of life to such a span. She had lived for many years in a humble tenement in Pye Corner, Bull Entry--a situation which no one would point out as apparently conducive to long life. Formerly, she was a fruit-seller in Fish Street, and many of the citizens probably recollect her as the little old woman who used to take her seat on the Old Bank steps, with her basket of fruit, &c., for sale. Up to the last she could hear and see well enough, and was only a little bent from age. She would eat heartily, but of plain diet, and her neighbours do not recollect her taking ale till the day before her death, when she wished to have some, and it being brought, she drank a good draught. A few hours only of indisposition brought her to her end--being one of the rare instances of really natural death (_i.e._ not dying from disease) which occur amongst us. Deceased was the grandmother of Sergeant Doughty, of the city police. She was born in the proverbially healthy district of Martley (where also, it will be observed, the other individual mentioned in this narrative formerly resided); and married Abraham Doughty, sergeant in the 29th, at All Saints in this city. She had four children, all of whom she survived, twenty-five grand-children, fifty great-grand-children, and four great-great-grand-children. Previous to her death, Sergeant Doughty could say what very few can--that he had a grandmother and grand-children living at the same time. GLOUCESTER CITY GATES.