ibdown, and sits down upon it, as if he was weary too. Now sir, says he let me say a bold word to you, I have found your writing, Ihave found your grand deed of settlement; I'll lay you a hundred guineas I have it in

this: coffer.

The gentleman takes up the lid again, handles the chest, looks over every part of it but could see nothing; he is confounded and amazed! what do you mean; says he, to the doctor, you have no unusual art I hope, no conjuring in hand, here is nothing but an empty coffer,

At last up comes the man with the hammer and chisel, and the doctor goes to work with the chest, knocks upon the flat of the bottem: hark! says he don't you hear it, sir? dont you hear it plainly?

Why the chest has a double bottom, sir, a false bot. tom, says the doctor; dont you hear it sound hollow?

In a word they immediately split the inner bottom open, and there lay the parchment spread abroad flat on the whole breadth of the bottom of the trunk, as a quire of paper is laid on the flat of a drawer.

1

It is impossible for me to describe the joy and surPrise of the gentleman, and soon after of the whole family and you may easily suppose the doctor was carressed with uncommon civilities, and sent up (after about a week's stay) in the gentleman's own coach to London. As far as I have had the story related, so far I have handed it forward; and I have the truth of it affirmed in such a manner that I cannot doubt i

A true relation of the Apparition of one Mrs. Veal, the next day after her death to one Mrs. Bargrave, at

Canterbury, the 8th September, 1705.

THIS thing is so rare in all its circumstances, and so good anthority, that my reading and conversation has not given me any thing like it: It is fit to gratify the most ingenious and serious enquirer. Mis Bargrave is the person to whom Mrs. Veal appeared after her death: She is my intimate friend, and I can avouch for her reputation, for these last fifteen or sixteen years on my own knowledge; and I can confirm the good character she had from her youth, to the time of my acquaintance; though since this relation she is calumniated by some people, that are friends to the brother of Mrs. Veal, who appeared; who think the relation of this appearance to be a reflection, and endeavour what they can to blast Mrs, Bargrave's reputation, and to laugh the story out of countenance. But by the cir cumstances thereof, and the cheerful disposition of Mrs Bargrave, notwithstanding the ill usage of a very wicked husband, there is not the least sign of dejec tion in her face; nor did I ever hear her let fall a desponding or murmuring expression; nay, not when actually under her husband's barbarity, which I have

been witness to, and several other persons of undoubted reputation,

Now you must know Mrs. Veal was a maiden gen. tlewoman of about thirty years of age, and for some years last past had been troubled with fits, which were perceived coming on her, by her going off from her discourse very abruptly, to some impertinence: She was maintained by an only brother, and kept his house in Dover. She was a very pious woman, and her brother a very sober man to all appearance; but now he does all he can to null and quash the story. Mrs. Veal was intimately acquainted with Mrs. Bargrave from her childhood. Mrs. Veal's circumstauce were

then mean her father did not take care of his children as he ought, so that they were exposed to hardships: And Mrs. Bargrave in those days had as unkind a father, though she wanted for neither food nor clothing, while Mrs. Veal wanted for both, insomuch that she, would often say, Mrs. Bargrave, you are not only the best but the only friend I have in the world, and no circunistance in life shall ever dissolve my friendship. They would often condole each others adverse fortunes, and read together Drelincourt upon Death, and other good books; and so, like two christain friends they comforted each other under their sorrow.

Some time af er Mr. Veal's friends got him a place in the custom house at Dover, which occasioned Mrs Veal, by little, and little to fall off from her intimacy with Mrs.

Bargrave,

Bargrave, though there was never any such thing as a quarrel, but an indifferency came on by degrees, till at last Mrs. Bargrave had not seen her in two years and a half; though above a twelvemonth of the time Mrs. Bargrave hath been absent from Dover, and this last half year has been in Canterbury, about two months of the time, dwelling in an house of her own.

In this house, on the eighth of September, One Thousand Seven Hundred and Five, she was sitting alone in the forenoon, thinking over her unfortunate life, and arguing herself into a due resignation to providence, though her condition seenel hard. And said she, I have been provided for hitherto, and doubt not but I shall be still, and am well satisfied that my afflictions shall end, when it is most fit for me: And then took up her sewing work, which she had no sooner done but she hears a knocking at the doar. went to see who was there, and this proved to be Mrs. Veal, her old friend who was in a riding habit: At that moment of time the clock struck twelve at noon.

She

Madam, says Mrs. Bargrave, I am surprised to see you, you have been so long a stranger: but told her, she was glad to see her, and offered to sa'ute her; which Mrs. Veal complied with till their lips almost touched, and then Mrs. Veal drew her hand across her own eyes, and said I aur not very well, and so waved it. She told Mrs. Bargrave she was going a jour ney, and had a great mind to see her first: But says

Mrs.

brother.

Mrs. Bargrave how came you to take a journey alone? I am amazed at it because I know you have a fond Oh! says Mrs Veal, I gave my brother the slip and came away, because I had so great a desire to see you before I took my journey. So Mrs Bargrave went in with her into another room within the the first; and Mrs. Veal sat her down in an elbow chair in which Mrs Bargrave was sitting when she heard Mrs Veal knock. Then says Mrs Veal, "My dear

friend 1 am come to renew our old friendship again, " and beg your pardon for my breach of it; and if you can forgive me you are the best of women. "Oh! (says Mrs Bargrave) do not mention such a thing; I have not had an uneasy thought about it, i "can easily forgive it." What did you think of me, .

66. you were like the rest of the world, and that pros"perity had made you forget yourself and me. Then Mrs Veal reminded Mrs Bargrave of the many friendly offices she did her in former days, and much of the conversation they had with each other in the times of their adversity; what books they read, and what comfort in particular they received from Drelin court's book of Death, which was the best she said on thatsubject ever written. She also mentioned Dr. Sherlock, the other two datch books, which were translated, written upon death, and several others; but Drelincourt she said had the clearest notions of death, and of the future state of any who had handled that subject.

Then