Under such circumstances as these, it is not wonderful that complaints of the misuse of sanctuary rights became frequent. In 1324 ten prisoners escaped from Newgate Jail, of whom five took refuge in one or other of the London churches, and thence escaped out of the country. In 1376 Parliament complained to the King that certain people got money or goods on loan, made pretended gifts of all their property to their friends, then went into sanctuary, and stayed there till their creditors were glad to accept some small portion of the debt in payment for the whole; after which they came out, received back their pretended gifts, and lived merrily on their ill-gotten wealth. Cases even occurred in which thieves and murderers left their place of sanctuary at nightfall, committed fresh crimes during the night, and returned to the ‘chair of peace’ again before daybreak. So great did the scandal of this misuse of the privileges afforded by sanctuaries eventually become, that in 1623 Parliament passed a law that: No sanctuarie or priviledge of sanctuary shal be hereafter admitted or allowed in any case. The law was again passed in 1697, but it was not until the reign of George I. that the last sanctuary in our country was demolished. XVII. HOW TWO KINGS OF ENGLAND LANDED AT SPURN. In the old Norse account of the life of Harold Hardrada it is stated that after the battle of Stamford Bridge Olaf, the King’s son, ‘led the fleet from England, setting sail from _Hrafnseyri_.’ This is the earliest mention that we have of the bank of sand and shingle which is known to-day as Spurn Point, and the name of the place—‘Hrafn’s gravel-bank’—is evidence of both its general appearance and its ownership in the year 1066. For two centuries after this we have no mention of it, but in the meanwhile there had grown up two settlements to each of which the name Ravenser was attached. _Ald Ravenser_—that is, Old Ravenser—was ‘inland, distant both from the sea and the Humber’; while _Ravenserodd_, or as we should write it, Ravenser Point, lay ‘between the waters of the sea and those of the Humber,’ and was ‘distant from the main land a space of one mile and more.’ Connecting the two was a sandy road ‘covered with round and yellow stones, thrown up in a little time by the height of the floods, having a breadth which an archer can scarcely shoot across, and wonderfully maintained by the tides of the sea on its east side, and the ebb and flow of the Humber on its west side.’