Having made a parcel of the still wet clothes I called next morning upon my new friend, and spent the day with him, wandering about the valley, and trying a cast with the fly. On parting in the evening he informed me that he was to return to town next day, and I should probably see him no more. A day or two after his departure a man came down to the beach leading a fine piebald mare, and inquiring if I were Mr. S----. I informed him that that was my name, whereupon he gave me a note written in pencil, reading thus-- “MY DEAR FRIEND, “I cannot allow the day I spent in your cosy domicile on wheels to pass without some little acknowledgment of the courtesy shown me, and of the kindness you extended to a perfect stranger. By bearer I send you a magpie, which kindly accept as a remembrance of “Your obliged friend, “H. K. K. (A. Z.)” I have never seen H. K. K. since, although I think I could, if I wished, make a very near guess at his real name and abode. The magpie still tugs myself and home from place to place, the admired of all beholders from the beauty of his peculiar markings. He makes my caravan an object of extra interest wherever I go, simply because of the superstitious belief that a piebald horse brings luck. Some people _wish_ when they see my horse, others affirm that stroking its glossy hide helps to realize their wish. Parents whose children suffer from St. Vitus’s dance have asked me to allow the afflicted ones to ride a little way on its back, in the belief that such exercise on a parti-coloured steed will effect a cure. A jockey about to ride a race on a certain occasion begged seven black hairs from the tail of my horse and seven white ones from its mane. I granted his request, and watched him bind the hairs carefully round the handle of his riding-whip. I witnessed the race with more than usual interest, and strangely enough the superstitious jockey WON his race by a short head. At more than one inn at which I have halted, the landlord would take no money for the maintenance of my parti-coloured horse, saying that bad luck would fall upon them if they charged for the keep of a “lucky” horse. So much for credulity and superstition! III. INTRODUCTION TO “A STRANGE RESURRECTION.” While travelling along the Norfolk coast, and enjoying its golden sands and bracing breezes, I fell in with a jolly old fellow who was mending one of the huge oaken breakwaters, with which some parts of this wind-swept coast are protected, to prevent the encroachment of the sea, which, year by year and slice by slice, devours the soft clay cliffs, as regularly and insatiably as a ploughboy consumes his thumbpiece after the first two hours of morning work.