Every ecclesiologist is familiar with such arms and accoutrements as are here mentioned. Dr J. C. Cox has enumerated churches where personal armour is still preserved[703]. No further digression can be made here, but the reader may again be reminded that many armorial relics belong to a later period, and are counterfeits which constituted part of the undertaker’s trappings (cf. p. 159 _supra_). One attenuated survival lasted until the middle of the nineteenth century in the form of square or lozenge-shaped hatchments (= “achievements”), made of wood. On these wooden shields, which, after the funeral, were nailed up in the church, were blazoned the coats-of-arms borne by the family of the deceased person. The most recent spectacle of this kind, surprisingly belated, was witnessed at the church of Hunmanby, in the East Riding, during the year 1897[704]. Strangest of all the warrior superstitions was that exemplified in the ceremony of offering food to weapons. The custom, which is plainly traceable to pagan ideas of worship, continued without interruption, we are assured, until the reign of Elizabeth. One instance must suffice. Sir Howel-y-Furyall, known to his fellows as “Sir Howel of the Battle-axe,” a weapon which he wielded bravely at Poitiers, ordained that his axe should be hung up in the Tower of London, and a “messe of meat” served before it daily. The injunction was obeyed, and each day, after the rite had been completed, the food was distributed to beggars[705]. Arms and food do not, however, complete our list of serviceable gifts to the dead. Among implements of this nature must be reckoned divers kinds of fire-producers. Excavations have shown that flint and iron pyrites were occasionally concealed in round barrows, while, in the mounds of later periods, a piece of iron replaced the customary mineral nodule. These ignition agents, the forerunners of our “strike-a-lights” and tinder boxes, are found so late as the Saxon period. Certain small “nests” of chipped flints occurring in Merovingian, Frankish, and Saxon sepulchres, are also believed by some authorities to have been intended for fire-kindlers[706], by means of which the departed spirit could be provided with cheerful warmth. To the present writer this theory is not entirely satisfactory, at least as regards the later developments of the practice. The cases just cited seem to be analogous to those described by Pitt-Rivers, who repeatedly found, in British barrows, urns filled with chips of flint[707]. In a notable barrow at Winkelbury Hill, on a Northern spur of the Wiltshire Downs, not only was the urn packed with flakes, but it was surrounded by a mass of similar objects[708]. Besides the flakes placed in the cist or urn itself, we have to take into account the very common occurrence of flint spalls in the body of the mound, a sight familiar to the barrow-digger. The number of chips is often out of all proportion to what might be incidentally brought