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 about the stranger. We were informed that he was a Mr. Baker, who kept a small sweetmeat-shop in the place, and was a great antiquary. "He always goes after strangers who come here. I expect he saw you come in yesterday; he's been hanging about the yard all the afternoon expecting you back. He's a regular character." So we had concluded; still, antiquarianism and selling sweetmeats did seem an odd mixture!

It so happened that a day or two after this, chance threw us unexpectedly in the company of the famous novelist, who was staying at the same hotel in a Lincolnshire village that we stopped at, and during the course of a conversation about many things, we told her the amusing incident of our being shown her autograph at Horncastle. It appeared that out of pure good-nature Miss Marie Corelli had given Mr. Baker her signature, as he had boldly come to her and asked for it! Possibly had he not been such a manifest character he would not have obtained it so readily, for the autograph-hunter has become a nuisance in the land! Somehow it has always been our fate when taking our driving expeditions to become acquainted with at least one or more notable persons. This tour proved no exception to the rule.

We found Mr. Baker duly awaiting us at the time and place mentioned. First he took us to the church, wherein he pointed out to us thirteen scythe-*heads hanging on the north wall, three of which were mounted at the end of poles so as to make rough but effective spears; these, he told us, were relics of