as the eyes of our body, we should see numbers of angels about us for our guard. The notions we have of heaven now, are nothing like what it is, as Drelincourt says. There fore be comforted under your afflictions, and believe that the Almighty has a particular regard for you, and that your afflictions are marks of God's favour; and when they have done the business they are sent for, they shall be removed from you. And believe me, my dear friend, believe what I say to you; one minute of future happiness will infinitely reward you for all your sufferings; for I can never believe" [and claps her hands upon her knees with great earnestness, which indeed ran through most of her discourse,]"that ever God will suffer you to spend all your days in this afflicted state: but be assured, that your afflictions will leave you, or you them, in a short time." She spake in that pathetical and heavenly manner, that Mrs. Bargrave wept several times, she was so deeply affected with it.

Then Mrs. Veal mentioned Dr. Herneck's Ascetic," at the end of which he gives an account of the lives of the primitive Christians. Their pattern she recommended to our imitation, and said, “Their conversation was not like this of our age: for now," says she, "there is nothing but frothy, vain discourse, which is far different from theirs. Theirs was to edification, and to build one another up in faith; so that they were not as we are, nor are we as they were: but," said she, "we ought to do as they did. There was a hearty friendship among them; but where is it now to be found?" Says Mrs. Bargrave," It is hard indeed to find a true friend in these days." Says Mrs. Veal, "Mr. Norris has a fine copy of verses, called Friendship in Perfection, which I wonderfully admire. Have you seen the book?" says Mrs. Veal. "No," says Mrs. Bargrave," but I have the verses of my own writing out." "Have you?" says Mrs. Veal. "then fetch them." Which she did from above stairs, and

offered

offered them to Mrs. Veal to read, who refused, and waved the thing, saying, holding down her head would make it ache; and then desired Mrs. Bargrave to read them for her, which she did. As they were admiring friendship, Mrs. Veal said, "Dear Mrs. Bargrave, I shall love you for ever." In these verses there is twice used the word Elysian. “Ab!” says Mrs. Veal," these poets have such names for heaven!" She would often draw her hand across her own eyes, and say, "Mrs. Bargrave, do not you think I am mightily impaired by my fits?" "No," says Mrs. Bragrave, "I think you look as well as ever I knew you."

After all this discourse, which the Apparition put in much finer words than Mrs. Bargrave said she could pretend to, and as much more than she can remember (for it cannot be thought that an hour and three quarter's conversation could be retained, though the main of it she thinks she does,) she said to Mrs. Bargrave, She would have her write a letter to her brother, and tell him, she would have him give rings to such and such; and that there was a purse of gold in her cabinet, and that she would have two broad pieces given to her cousin Watson.'

Talking at this rate, Mrs. Bargrave thought that a fit was coming upon her, and so placed herself in a chair just before her knees, to keep her from falling to the ground, if her fits should occasion it, (for the elbow chair, she thought, would keep her from falling on either side,) and to divert Mrs. Veal, as she thought, took hold of her gown sleeve several times, and commended it. Mrs. Veal told her it was a scoured silk, and newly made up. But for all this, Mrs. Veal persisted in her request; and told Mrs. Bargrave she must not deny her. And she would have her tell her brother all their conversation, when she had opportunity. "Dear Mrs. Veal," says Mrs. Bargrave, "this seems so impertinent, that I cannot tell how to comply with it and

what

what a mortifying story will our conversation be to a young gentleman!" "Why," says Mrs. Bárgrave," it is much better methinks to do it yourself." "No," says Mrs. Veal, though it seems impertinent to you now, you will see more reason for it hereafter. Mrs. Bargrave then, tô satisfy her importunity, was going to fetch a pen and ink; but Mrs. Veal said, "Let it alone now, but do it when I am gone; but you must be sure to do it." Which was one of the last things she enjoined her at parting: and so she promised her.

Then Mrs. Veal asked for Mrs. Bargrave's daughter; she said she was not at home. "But if you have a mind to see her," says Mrs. Bargrave, "I'll send for her." "Do," says Mrs. Veal. On which she left her, and went to a neighbour's to see for her; and by the time Mrs. Bargrave was returning, Mrs. Veal was got without the door into the street, in the face of the beast-market on a Saturday, which is market day, and stood ready to part, as soon as Mrs. Bargrave came to her. She asked her why she was in such haste. She said, She must be going, though perhaps she might not go her journey till Monday: and told Mrs. Bargrave she hoped she would see her again at her cousin Watson's before she went whither she was going. Then she said, she would take her leave of her, and walked from Mrs. Bargrave in her view, till a turning interrupted the sight of her, which was three quarters after one in the afternoon.

Mrs. Veal died the 7th of September, at twelve o'clock at noon, of her fits, and had not above four hours' senses before death, in which time she received the sacrament. The next day after Mrs. Veal's appearing, being Sunday, Mrs. Bargrave was mightily indisposed with a cold and a sore throat, that she could not go out that day; but on Monday morning she sent a person to Capt. Watson's, to know if Mrs. Veal was there. They wondered at Mrs. Bargrave's

inquiry;

inquiry and sent her word that she was not there, nor was expected. At this answer, Mrs. Bargrave told the maid she had certainly mistook the name, or made some blunder. And though she was ill, she put on her hood, and went herself to Capt. Watson's, though she knew none of the family, to see if Mrs. Veal was there or not. They said, they wondered at her asking, for that she had not been in town; they were sure, if she had, she would have been there. Says Mrs. Bargrave, " I am sure she was with me on Saturday almost two hours." They said it was impossible; for they must have seen her if she had. In comes Capt. Watson, while they were in dispute, and said that Mrs. Veal was certainly dead, and her escutcheons were making. This strangely surprised Mrs. Bargrave; when she sent to the person immediately who had the care of them, and found it true. Then she related the whole story to Capt. Watson's family, and what gown she had on, and how striped; and that Mrs. Veal told her it was scoured. Then Mrs. Watson cried out, "You have seen her indeed, for none knew but Mrs. Veal and myself, that the gown was scoured. And Mrs. Watson owned that she described the gown exactly: "For," said she, "I helped her to make it up.” This Mrs. Watson blazed all about the town, and avouched the demonstration of the truth of Mrs. Bargrave's seeing Mrs. Veal's apparition. And Captain Watson carried two. gentlemen immediately to Mrs. Bargrave's house to hear the relation from her own mouth. And when it spread so fast, that gentlemen and persons of quality, the judicious and sceptical part of the world, flocked in upon her, it at last became such a task, that she was forced to go out of the way; for they were, in general, extremely satisfied of the truth of the thing, and plainly saw that Mrs. Bargrave was no hypochondriac: for she always appears with such a cheerful air, and pleasing mien, that she has gained the favour and esteem of all the gentry: and it is thought a great favour if they can but get the relation from her own. mouth.

5

mouth. I should have told you before, that Mrs. Veal fold Mrs. Bargrave, that her sister and brother-in-law were just come down from London to see her. Says Mrs. Bargrave, "How came you to order matters so strangely ?" "It could not be helped," said Mrs. Veal. And her brother and sister did come to see her, and entered the town of Dover just as Mrs. Veal was expiring. Mrs. Bargrave asked her whether she would drink some tea. Says Mrs. Veal, "I do not care if I do; but I'll warrant you, this mad fellow [meaning Mrs. Bargrave's husband] has broke all your trinkets. "But," says Mrs. Bargrave, "I'll get something to drink in for all that ;" but Mrs. Veal waved it, and said, "It is no matter, let it alone:" and so it passed.

All the time I sat with Mrs. Bargrave, which was some hours, she recollected fresh sayings of Mrs. Veal. And one material thing more she told Mrs. Bargrave, that old Mr. Breton allowed Mrs. Veal ten pounds a year; which was a secret, and unknown to Mrs. Bargrave till Mrs. Veal told it her.

Mrs. Bargrave never varies in her story; which puzzles those who doubt the truth, or are unwilling to believe it. A servant in the neighbour's yard, adjoining to Mrs. Bargrave's house, heard her talking to somebody an hour of the time Mrs. Veal was with her. Mrs. Bargrave went out to her next neighbour's the very moment she parted with Mrs. Veal, and told her what ravishing conversation she had with an old friend, and told the whole of it. Drelincourt's Book of Death is, since this happened, bought up strangely. And it is to be observed, that notwithstanding all the trouble and fatigue Mrs. Bargrave has undergone upon this account, she never took the value of a farthing, nor suffered her daughter to take any thing of any body, and therefore can have no interest in telling the story.

1.

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