A Shropshire legend narrates that, on one occasion, Milburga, who is still remembered in the name of Stoke St. Milborough, was riding in all haste to escape from certain enemies. She fell at length exhausted from her horse; but, at her command, the animal struck a stone with his hoof, and water gushed out for her refreshment. In a neighbouring field some men were sowing grain, and the saint prophesied that in the evening they would gather the ripe corn. She instructed them to tell her enemies, on their arrival, that she had passed when the crop was being sown. The miracle duly happened, and Milburga's foes were disconcerted in consequence. Shropshire and Yorkshire have strange traditions about the sudden appearance of lakes, sometimes overwhelming human dwellings. In the latter case, the tops of houses are said to be visible through the water. Additional picturesqueness is occasionally given, by the introduction into the story of vanished bells, sending forth from the depths their soft cadences. At Tunstall, in Norfolk, a boggy piece of ground, locally known as Hell-Hole, is marked by frequently rising bubbles. The devil once carried off the bells of the church, and, when pursued, plunged into the marsh. The bubbles are due to the bells sinking lower and lower into the abyss. Such beliefs about lakes form an interesting supplement to Scottish superstitions. When Henry VI. was in hiding in Bolton Hall, in Yorkshire, he wished to have a bath in the hot summer weather. His host, anxious to supply what was lacking to the comfort of the royal fugitive, used a hazel twig in his garden, in the hope of discovering water. The indications being favourable, a well was dug, and the king was enabled to cool himself to his heart's content. The spring still bears the king's name. Michael Scott, who was born in Fife in the thirteenth century, and was regarded by his contemporaries as a dabbler in the black art, had a pupil in the north of England who undertook a marvellous feat, viz., to bring the sea up the Wansbeck river to Morpeth. Certain incantations were gone through, and the magician started from the coast, followed by the tide. All went well till within about five miles from the town, when he became alarmed by the roaring of the water, and looked back. So the spell was broken, and Morpeth remained inland. This recalls the story accounting for the introduction of a good water-supply into Plymouth. When there was a scarcity in the sixteenth century, Sir Francis Drake, the naval hero, rode up to Dartmoor, and uttered some magical words over a spring there. He immediately turned his horse and galloped back to the town, followed by a copious stream.