There have not been wanting, in this old town, some eccentric characters, whose doings have been peculiar, and have been traditionally preserved for the entertainment of a rising generation. Of these two or three may be recorded here, but for obvious reasons I avoid mentioning names. One individual, exulting in his strength, undertook, for a wager, some time in the thirties, to drag a dung cart from Lincoln to Horncastle, a distance of 21 miles, and successfully accomplished the feat in eight hours, but he is said to have suffered from hæmorrhage for the rest of his days. Another man made a bet that he would start from Lincoln on horseback when the moon rose there, and would have his horse in his own stable at Horncastle before the moon had risen there. Lincoln being on a hill, the moon would be seen earlier there than at Horncastle, which lay in a hollow. As he galloped along he is said to have shouted, “Now me, now moon,” as the chances seemed at intervals for or against the one or the other. He just, however, missed the success which he might have achieved, as he had to pull up, late in the evening, at the toll-bar on the Lincoln road, about a mile from Horncastle, the toll-bar keeper being in bed; and this slight delay caused his failure, for, as he opened his stable door, he saw the moon shining in a bucket of water which was standing ready for his steed. The writer is informed that one, if not both, of these individuals was considered to be a little “short” of the full modicum of brains. Another person, still resident in the town, remembers the burning, in the street, of the effigies of Bayock and Demont, two of the witnesses in the trial of Queen Caroline, in 1820. They were Italians. There were great rejoicings and illuminations, in London and throughout the country, on Her Majesty’s acquittal; and this was the demonstration of Horncastrians. An old song was popular at the time, beginning thus: False witnesses from Italy, they came to London town; And all they had against her was to keep her from the crown. Wharrie, a shoemaker in the town, was inspired to preach a sermon in the Bull-ring, from a cart, denouncing the trial. This sermon was printed, and a copy was long in the possession of my informant.