There was only one proper sequence to this romantic incident; Mistress Anne lost her heart to her gallant rescuer, the grateful parents smiled on his wooing, and one fine August morning, not many months later, the wedding-bells of St Magnus Church were spreading far and wide the news that young Osborne had found a bride in one of the fairest and richest heiresses of London town.  In due time Osborne became, as his father-in-law had been before him, Lord Mayor of London; the son of this romantic alliance was knighted for prowess in battle; Edward Osborne’s grandson was made a Baronet; and his great-grandson, Sir Thomas, added to the family dignities by becoming in turn, Baron, Viscount, Earl and Marquis, and, finally, Duke of Leeds.  Thus only two generations separated the ’prentice lad of Philpot Lane from his descendant of the strawberry-leaves, the first of a long and still unbroken line of English dukes, whose blood has mingled with that of many noble families.

The noble house of Ripon has its origin in Yorkshire tradesmen who carried on business in York, some of whom were Lord Mayors of that city two or three centuries ago.  These early Robinsons added to their fortune and enriched their blood by alliances with some of the oldest families in the north of England—­such as the Metcalfes of Nappa and the Redmaynes of Fulford—­and slowly but surely laid the foundation of one of the wealthiest and most distinguished of great English houses.  For four generations the head of the family was a Cabinet Minister, while one of them was Prime Minister of England.

The Marquises of Bath derive descent from one John o’ th’ Inne, who was, probably, a worthy publican of Church Stretton, and who was descended in the seventh generation from William de Bottefeld, an under-forester of Shropshire in the thirteenth century; while, through his mother, the late Marquis of Salisbury derived a strain of ’prentice blood from Sir Christopher Gascoigne, the first Lord Mayor of London to live in the Mansion House.

Until a few years ago there might be seen in the main street of the village of Appletrewick, in Yorkshire, a single-storey cottage, little better than a hovel, which was the cradle of the noble family of Craven.  It was from this humble home that William Craven, the young son of a husbandman, fared forth one day in the carrier’s cart to seek fortune in far-away London town.  Like many another boy who has taken a stout heart and an empty pocket to the Metropolis as his sole capital, he fought his way to wealth; and before he died he was addressed as “My lord,” in his character of London’s chief magistrate.  The eldest son of this peasant boy won fame as a soldier, became the confidential friend of his Sovereign, and was created in turn a Baron, a Viscount, and Earl of Craven.  He died unwed, and all his wealth and dignities passed to a kinsman who, like himself, traced his descent from the peasant stock of Appletrewick.