A story which I thought very remarkable was told me the other day, and happened, I believe, at Hastings. A maidservant in the family of a resident found a brooch in the street, and as it was both pretty and rather valuable, an advertisement was put into a local paper by the finder, who wished to discover the owner, but without success. Two years elapsed, and the girl and her mistress both agreed that there was no hope of an owner turning up, and so she wore it. The very first day she put it on she went out, and walking down one of the main roads into Hastings, she met a lady who, looking at her closely, said, coming up to her, "I think you are wearing my brooch." The wonderful part of this story is that the lady was only a visitor, and had not been in Hastings since the day she had lost her brooch, two years before. A writer in the _Globe_, a short time ago, gave a very remarkable account of a coincidence which is said to have been quite authenticated. A lady finding that the setting of a valuable ring had become insecure, entrusted it to a lad in her service to take it to the jewellers to be repaired. She lived on her estate at a short distance from the neighbouring town, and on his way the messenger had to cross a wooden bridge over a stream in the park. This, of course, presented the usual attraction. The boy lingered, and bethinking him of his charge, took the ring from the case for a closer inspection. But ill-luck followed him, for the ring suddenly slipped from his hold, and falling on a muddy bank, disappeared from view. The lad searched in vain; and being apprehensive that he might be charged with its theft, absconded from his situation and went to sea. Being a quick and handy boy, he grew into an energetic and enterprising man; settled in a colony, and in the course of time realised a large fortune. Returning to England, he found the estate on which he had formerly served was in the market, whereupon he bought it and took up his residence in the Manor House. Walking through his grounds one day with a friend, they came to the scene of the lost ring, and he related the story which had indirectly led to his present position. "And that is the very spot where it dropped," said he, thrusting his stick into the bank. The lost ring was found upon the stick when it was withdrawn. It had actually impaled the lost jewel, which was its own startling verification of the story. The strange part of this tale is that the loser should have been the finder, for there is nothing marvellous in the misadventure until we come to the finding of the ring. One of the interesting things shown at the Stuart Exhibition was the keys of Lochleaven Castle. I am sure my readers will all remember the romantic story of Queen Mary's escape from thence in 1568, with the help of young Douglas, who locked the gates to prevent pursuit, and then threw the keys into the lake, where they lay until discovered in 1805.