This armour being scoured, repaired, and altered, so as to fit Sir Launcelot, a certain knight, whom I don't choose to name, because I believe he cannot be proved compos mentis, came down, seemingly on a visit, with two attendants; and, on the evening of the festival of St.
George, the armour being carried into the chapel.

Sir Launcelot (Lord have mercy upon us!) remained all night in that dismal place alone, and without light, though it was confidently reported all over the country, that the place was haunted by the spirit of his great-great-uncle, who, being lunatic, had cut his throat from ear to ear, and was found dead on the communion table." It was observed, that while Mr.Clarke rehearsed this circumstance his eyes began to stare and his teeth to chatter; while Dolly, whose looks were fixed invariably on this narrator, growing pale, and hitching her joint-stool nearer the chimney, exclaimed, in a frightened tone, "Moother, moother, in the neame of God, look to 'un! how a quakes! as I'm a precious saoul, a looks as if a saw something." Tom forced a smile, and thus proceeded:-- "While Sir Launcelot tarried within the chapel, with the doors all locked, the other knight stalked round and round it on the outside, with his sword drawn, to the terror of divers persons who were present at the ceremony.

As soon as day broke he opened one of the doors, and going in to Sir Launcelot, read a book for some time, which we did suppose to be the constitutions of knight-errantry.

Then we heard a loud slap, which echoed through the whole chapel, and the stranger pronounce, with an audible and solemn voice, 'In the name of God, St.

Michael, and St.
George, I dub thee knight--be faithful, bold, and fortunate.' You cannot imagine, gemmen, what an effect this strange ceremony had upon the people who were assembled.