Nothing is more curious and interesting in the changes and chances of the world than the stories of things "lost and found." One constantly hears of such on the best authority, being told by people in whom one has the most perfect confidence, and who have no reason to deceive us. Nearly everyone has tales of this kind to tell you when once they understand your interest in the subject, and generally they are about some article of jewelry, and nearly always of finger-rings. I have a large number of notes taken down from people's own lips, some of which would be too strange to be believed if you did not know the character of the narrator. Tales of what we call coincidences, of dreams, of apparitions, all connected with the recovery of certain articles, appear in the collection, but in the following papers I shall try to avoid taxing your powers of belief too severely, for though I may believe what has been related to me, you, not having had my experiences and knowledge of my sources of information, would probably refuse to credit them.

One of the most remarkable tales of rings lost and found is that told of the discovery, in June, 1820, of the signet-ring of Mary, Queen of Scots, in the ruins of the Castle of Fotheringay. The finder was a workman named Robert Wyatt, formerly a private in the Prince of Wales's 3rd Foot. In latter years he gained his living as a guide to the ruins of the castle, and often related to visitors how he assisted in the digging-up of the drawbridge and the filling-up of the moat; and that a Scottish gentleman had measured out the banqueting-hall, where the Queen was executed, and found it correct, and finally, how the ring was found by himself. It is supposed to have been swept away with the blood-stained sawdust, and to have fallen from her finger during the last agonies of her violent death. Wyatt died in September, 1862, at the good age of 83. It has an inscription, i.e., "Henri L. Darnley, 1565," the monogram of H and M bound up in a true lovers' knot, and within the hoop the lion of Scotland on a crowned shield.

This ring was exhibited at the Stuart Exhibition in 1889 (No. 337 in the catalogue), but the description is not quite accurate. It was in the collection of Mr. Waterlow, of Walton Hall, Yorkshire, and a full account is given in the Archæological Journal, vol. xv., p. 253, and also in Archæologia, vol. xxxiii., p. 355. No doubt seems to be entertained that it was Mary's nuptial ring, as well as the betrothal one, the date "1565" being that of their engagement, and they were married the following year.

Mary's rings, indeed, seem to have been addicted to being lost, for I saw at the Peterborough Exhibition, in 1887, a ring lent by Lord Wantage, found in the garden of Sywell Hall, which is believed to have been given by her to one of her attendants there. It has the motto "Tre loyalement ma souvreyn" engraved inside, and is of fine gold. A thumb signet-ring was found at Borthwick Castle, with her cipher on it, "M.R.," and is believed to have been lost during her stay at the castle, to which she fled with Bothwell, 1567. This was at the same exhibition.

Though called a signet-ring, it is well to say here that a signet-ring used by her is now in the British Museum, which was formerly the property of Queen Charlotte, and subsequently belonged to the Duke of York. The betrothal ring, however, is not a signet, though it might have been used for sealing.

Another interesting case of a ring lost and found is that of Dean Bargrave's signet, who was Dean of Canterbury in the days of Cromwell. This ring was probably either lost or hidden in the deanery garden when the dean was seized by Cromwell's Roundheads, and dragged to the Fleet Prison. It was found a few years ago, and was recognised by its appearance in the portrait of the dean, who has it on his finger. The portrait now hangs in the dean's study at Canterbury.

In nearly all the cases I am about to relate, I have the names and addresses of the narrators, and all of them are apparently true, and quite to be relied upon. The first one was told me by the daughter of an old lady, who was the daughter of a clergyman in Essex, and nearly related to one of the Archbishops of Canterbury. She was walking in the garden of the rectory one day, not long before her marriage, when in some way a ring she was wearing slipped from her finger, and no searching availed to recover it. Apparently it was lost for ever. The path was an ordinary gravelled garden walk, and there seemed no place where even so small an object could have found a sheltering to conceal it. The next year, after her marriage, she was paying a visit to her father at the rectory, and was walking down the same path in the garden, when she saw the lost ring lying on the ground in front of her. From the same authority I heard two other stories, the first of a ring lost in a hay-field while the hay-making was going on. After an interval had elapsed of a year and a half, one morning the coachman came in with the lost ring in his hand. He said he had been cutting out hay from the stack, and had felt something hard against the edge of his cleaver, and on putting in his hand, he had immediately discovered the ring. The second story was not of a ring, however, but of a very valuable scarf-pin, lost by a great fox-hunter while riding through a gap in a hedge. The next year the same ground was gone over, and the same gap revisited, which reminded the owner of his lost pin. He dismounted from his horse, and after a short search, found his pin, which was sticking upright in the ground near the hedge.

Many of these modern stories of lost and found sound like repetitions of old ones—"chestnuts," in fact. But they are not; and in this matter, as well as in others of a different kind, history appears to repeat itself. The Canadian story which follows is one of these, but it is quite a new one. It was told me by a friend, and confirmed by her husband, and by the original letter containing the account of the dream, which came from far-off Assiniboinia.

The tale begins with a family who dwelt on a farm by the lake of J—— in Ontario; but finding that the rocky land on its shores was not conducive to successful farming, they moved up to the Great North-West and took up fresh land in Assiniboinia. The family consisted of the father and mother, their son and his wife, and several children, and my tale relates to the son's wife only, who had lost, some years before her departure, in the garden of the old home, her wedding-ring. To a woman it will not be at all wonderful to hear that this loss was a subject of great concern, and also somewhat superstitious fear; for by many people such a loss is thought to be an omen of ill-luck. Some of the family still remained on the lake of J——, a married daughter, the sister-in-law of the loser of the ring. One morning, about two years after the departure of her family, she had a letter from her brother's wife, to beg her to go across the lake to the old homestead, for she had had a very vivid dream about the lost ring; and in this dream she had seen it, lying at the root of a white flower, a phlox, she thought, which grew on the right side of the front door, close to the wall of the house and the door-step.

A few days after the receipt of this letter, Mrs. B—— and her husband rowed across the lake and visited the old farm. It had never been let, and a buyer in those regions is hard to find; so the garden paths were overgrown, and the house neglected and forlorn; but growing by the front door-step there was a white phlox in full bloom, and taking the spade they had brought with them, they dug it up, and at its roots they found the lost wedding-ring.

I also gleaned another story in Canada of the same kind. A worthy alderman of a small town in Ontario was digging potatoes in his garden one summer morning, in the year 1894. His wife had several times summoned him to breakfast, but on her last summons he declared he could not come until he had dug up one more hill. When he finally came in to breakfast he brought with him a ring which she had lost in the garden seven years before, and which he had unearthed in that last potato hill.

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.

Many people have looked at the dredging and cleansing of the Tiber, which has been going on for the last few years, with much interest, in the hope that, during the course of these labours, many precious objects would be discovered, and amongst others, the spoils of the Temple at Jerusalem, which were brought by Titus to grace his triumph, and which may be seen depicted on the inside of the arch erected to commemorate his victories. Amongst these were the seven-branched candlesticks and the table of the shewbread. These, with other treasures, are said to have been thrown into the Tiber.