“I wish,” said he, “that you had acquainted me with your intention before you sent to inform the Baron I was here.  I choose rather to lodge with you; and I propose to make amends for the trouble I shall give you.”

“Pray, sir, don’t mention it,” said the peasant, “you are as welcome as myself; I hope no offence; the only reason of my sending was, because I am both unable and unworthy to entertain your honour.”

“I am sorry,” said Sir Philip, “you should think me so dainty; I am a Christian soldier; and him I acknowledge for my Prince and Master, accepted the invitations of the poor, and washed the feet of his disciples.  Let us say no more on this head; I am resolved to stay this night in your cottage, tomorrow I will wait on the Baron, and thank him for his hospitable invitation.”

“That shall be as your honour pleases, since you will condescend to stay here.  John, do you run back and acquaint my Lord of it.”

“Not so,” said Sir Philip; “it is now almost dark.”

“’Tis no matter,” said John, “I can go it blindfold.”

Sir Philip then gave him a message to the Baron in his own name, acquainting him that he would pay his respects to him in the morning.  John flew back the second time, and soon returned with new commendations from the Baron, and that he would expect him on the morrow.  Sir Philip gave him an angel of gold, and praised his speed and abilities.

He supped with Wyatt and his family upon new-laid eggs and rashers of bacon, with the highest relish.  They praised the Creator for His gifts, and acknowledged they were unworthy of the least of His blessings.  They gave the best of their two lofts up to Sir Philip, the rest of the family slept in the other, the old woman and her daughter in the bed, the father and his two sons upon clean straw.  Sir Philip’s bed was of a better kind, and yet much inferior to his usual accommodations; nevertheless the good knight slept as well in Wyatt’s cottage, as he could have done in a palace.

During his sleep, many strange and incoherent dreams arose to his imagination.  He thought he received a message from his friend Lord Lovel, to come to him at the castle; that he stood at the gate and received him, that he strove to embrace him, but could not; but that he spoke to this effect:  —­ “Though I have been dead these fifteen years, I still command here, and none can enter these gates without my permission; know that it is I that invite, and bid you welcome; the hopes of my house rest upon you.”  Upon this he bid Sir Philip follow him; he led him through many rooms, till at last he sunk down, and Sir Philip thought he still followed him, till he came into a dark and frightful cave, where he disappeared, and in his stead he beheld a complete suit of armour stained with blood, which belonged to his friend, and he thought he heard dismal groans from beneath.  Presently after, he thought he was hurried away by an invisible hand, and led into