them to 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. "Ah!" says Mrs Veal, "these poets have such names for heaven!" She would often draw her hand across her own eyes, and say, "Mrs Bargrave, don't you think I am mightily impaired by my fits?"-"No," says Mrs Bargrave, "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 quarters' conversation could all 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.

breach of it, and if you can forgive me you are the best of women."-"O" says Mrs Bargrave, "don't mention such a thing; I have not had an uneasy thought about it-I can easily forgive it." "What did you think of me?" says Mrs Veal. Says Mrs Bargrave, “I thought you were like the rest of the world, and that prosperity 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 time of their adversity; what books they read, and what comfort, in particular, they received from Drelincourt's Book of Death, which was the best, she said, on that subject, ever wrote. She also mentioned Dr Sherlock, and two Dutch books which were translated, wrote 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 she asked Mrs Bargrave whether she had Drelincourt; she said yes. Says Mrs Veal, "Fetch it;" and so Mrs Bargrave goes up stairs Talking at this rate, Mrs Bargrave thought and brings it down. Says Mrs Veal," Dear that a fit was coming upon her, and so placed Mrs Bargrave, if the eyes of our faith were as herself in a chair just before her knees, to keep open as the eyes of our body, we should see her from falling to the ground, if her fits should numbers of angels about us for our guard. The occasion it; for the elbow-chair, she thought, notions we have of heaven now are nothing like would keep her from falling on either side; and what it is, as Drelincourt says; therefore be to divert Mrs Veal, as she thought, took hold of comforted under your afflictions, and believe that her gown sleeve several times, and commended it. the Almighty has a particular regard to you, and Mrs Veal told her it was a scowered silk, and that your afflictions are marks of God's favour; newly made up. But for all this, Mrs Veal perand when they have done the business they are sisted in her request, and told Mrs Bargrave she sent for, they shall be removed from you. And must not deny her; and she would have her tell believe me, my dear friend, believe what I say to her brother all their conversation when she had you, one minute of future happiness will infi- opportunity. "Dear Mrs Veal," says Mrs Barnitely reward you for all your sufferings; for I grave, "this seems so impertinent that I cannot can never believe (and claps her hand upon tell how to comply with it; and what a mortifyher knee with great earnestness, which indeeding story will our conversation be to a young genran through most of her discourse) that ever God tleman? Why," says Mrs Bargrave, "'tis much will suffer you to spend all your days in this better to do it yourself.""No," says Mrs Veal, afflicted state; but be assured that your afflic-"though it seems impertinent to you now, you tions shall leave you, or you them, in a short time." She spake in that pathetical and hea. venly manner that Mrs Bargrave wept several times, she was so deeply affected with it.

Then Mrs Veal mentioned Dr Horneck'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, "Tis hard, indeed, to find a true friend in those 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 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

will see more reason for it hereafter." Mrs Bargrave, then, to satisfy her importunity, was going to fetch a pen and ink, but Mrs Veal said, "Let it alone now, and 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 send for her; and by the time Mrs Bargrave was returning Mrs Veal was got without the door in 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 should 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

||

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.

o'clock at noon of her fits, and had not above four hours' senses before her 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 Mrs Bargrave never varies in her story; which on Monday morning she sends a person to Cap-puzzles those who doubt of the truth, or are untain Watson's to know if Mrs Veal were there. willing to believe it. A servant in the neighbour's They wondered at Mrs Bargrave's inquiry, and yard adjoining to Mrs Bargrave's house heard sent her word that she was not there, nor was her talking to somebody an hour of the time expected. At this answer Mrs Bargrave told Mrs Veal was with her. Mrs Bargrave went the maid she had certainly mistook the name, or out to her next neighbour's the very moment she made some blunder; and, though she was ill, parted with Mrs Veal, and told her what ravishshe put on her hood and went herself to Captain ing conversation she had had with an old friend, Watson's, though she knew none of the family, to and told the whole of it. Drelincourt's Book of see if Mrs Veal were there or not. They said they Death is, since this happened, bought up strangely. wondered at her asking, for that she had not been And it is to be observed, that notwithstanding all in town; they were sure, if she had, she would the trouble and fatigue Mrs Bargrave has underhave been there. Says Mrs Bargrave, “I am gone upon this account, she never took the value sure she was with me on Saturday almost two of a farthing, nor suffered her daughter to take hours." They said it was impossible, for they anything of anybody; and therefore can have no must have seen her if that had been the case. interest in telling the story. In comes Captain Watson while they were in But Mr Veal does what he can to stifle the dispute, and said that Mrs Veal was certainly matter, and said he would see Mrs Bargrave; dead, and her escutcheons were making. This but yet it is certain matter of fact that he has strangely surprised Mrs Bargrave, when she sent been at Captain Watson's since the death of his to the person immediately who had the care of sister, and yet never went near Mrs Bargrave; them, and found it true. Then she related the and some of his friends report her to be a liar, whole story to Captain Watson's family, and what and that she knew of Mr Breton's ten pounds gown she had on, and how striped; and that Mrs a year. But the person who pretends to say so Veal told her it was scowered. Then Mrs Wat- has the reputation of a notorious liar among son cried out, "You have seen her indeed; for persons whom I know to be of undoubted repute. none knew but Mrs Veal and myself that the Now Mr Veal is more of a gentleman than to say she gown was scowered;" and Mrs Watson owned lies, but says a bad husband has crazed her. But that she described the gown exactly; "for," said she needs only to present herself, and it will efshe, "I helped her to make it up." This Mrs fectually confute that pretence. Mr Veal says, Watson blazed all about the town, and avouched he asked his sister on her death-bed, whether she the demonstration of the truth of Mrs Bargrave's had a mind to dispose of anything? and she said seeing Mrs Veal's apparition; and Captain Wat- no. Now, what the things which Mrs Veal's apson carried two gentlemen immediately to Mrs parition would have disposed of were so trifling, Bargrave's house, to hear the relation from her and nothing of justice aimed at in their disposal, own mouth. And when it spread so fast, that that the design of it appears to me to be only in gentlemen and persons of quality, the judicious order to make Mrs Bargrave so to demonstrate and sceptical part of the world, flocked in upon the truth of her appearance as to satisfy the her, it at best became such a task that she was world of the reality thereof, as to what she had forced to go out of the way. For they were in seen and heard, and to secure her reputation general extremely satisfied of the truth of the among the reasonable and understanding part of thing, and plainly saw that Mrs Bargrave was no mankind. And then again, Mr Veal owns that hypochondriac, for she always appeared with such there was a purse of gold, but it was not found a cheerful air and pleasing mien, that she had in her cabinet, but in a comb-box. This looks gained the favour and esteem of all the gentry; improbable, for that Mrs Watson owned that and it is thought a great favour if they can but Mrs Veal was so very careful of the key of her get the relation from her own mouth. I should cabinet that she would trust nobody with it. have told you before that Mrs Veal told Mrs And if so, no doubt she would not trust her Bargrave, that her sister and brother-in-law were gold out of it. And Mrs Veal's often drawing just come down from London to see her. Says her hand over her eyes, and asking Mrs BarMrs Bargrave," How came you to order matters grave whether her fits had not impaired her, so strangely ?"" It could not be helped," said looks to me as if she did it on purpose to reMrs Veal. And her sister and brother did come mind Mrs Bargrave of her fits, to prepare her to see her, and entered the town of Dover just as not to think it strange that she should put her Mrs Veal was expiring. Mrs Bargrave asked her upon writing to her brother, to dispose of rings whether she would drink some tea; says Mrs and gold, which looked so much like a dying Veal, "I do not care if I do; but I'll warrant you || person's request; and it took accordingly with this mad fellow (meaning Mrs Bargrave's hus- Mrs Bargrave, as the effect of her fits coming upon band) has broke all your trinkets."-" But (says her; and was one of the many instances of her Mrs Bargrave) I'll get something to drink in for wonderful love to her, and care of her, that she all that," but Mrs Veal waved it, and said, "It should not be affrighted; which indeed appears in is no matter, let it alone;" and so it passed. her whole management, particularly in her coming to her in the day-time; waving the salutation, and when she was alone; and then the manner

All the time I sat with Mrs Bargrave, which was some hours, she recollected fresh sayings of

8

A RELATION OF THE APPARITION OF MRS VEAL.

of her parting, to prevent a second attempt to || with her. "And I may (said she) be as soon

salute her.

persuaded that your apparition is talking to me, as that I did not really see her: for I was under no manner of fear, and received her as a friend and parted with her as such. I would not (says she) give one farthing to make any one believe it; I have no interest in it; nothing but trouble is entailed upon me for a long time, for aught I know: and had it not come to light by accident, it would never have been made public." But now, she says, she will make her own private use of it, and keep herself out of the way as much as she can; and so she has done since. She says "she had a gentleman who came thirty miles to her to hear the

Now, why Mr Veal should think this relation a reflection (as 'tis plain he does, by his endea. vouring to stifle it) I cannot imagine; because the generality believe her to be a good spirit, her discourse was so heavenly. Her two great errands were to comfort Mrs Bargrave in her affliction, and to ask her forgiveness for her breach of friendship, and with a pious discourse to encourage her. So that, after all, to suppose that Mrs Bargrave could hatch such an invention as this from Friday noon till Saturday noon (supposing that she knew of Mrs Veal's death the very first moment) without jumbling circum-relation, and that she had told it to a room full of stances, and without any interest too, she must be more witty, fortunate, and wicked too, than any indifferent person, I dare say, will allow. I asked Mrs Bargrave several times if she was sure she felt the gown? She answered modestly," If my senses be to be relied on, I am sure of it." asked her if she heard a sound when she clapped her hand upon her knee? She said, she did not remember she did; and she said, she appeared to be as much a substance as I did, who talked

people at a time." Several particular gentlemen have had the story from Mrs Bargrave's own mouth.

This thing has very much affected me; and I am as well satisfied as I am of the best grounded matter of fact. And why we should dispute matIter of fact, because we cannot solve things of which we can have no certain or demonstrative notions, seems strange to me. Mrs Bargrave's authority and sincerity alone would have been undoubted in any other case.

A

TREATISE

CONCERNING

THE USE AND ABUSE OF THE

MARRIAGE BED;

SHOWING

1. THE NATURE OF MATRIMONY, ITS SACRED ORIGINAL AND THE TRUE MEANING OF ITS INSTITUTION⚫ II. THE GROSS ABUSE OF MATRIMONIAL CHASTITY, FROM THE WRONG NOTIONS WHICH HAVE POSSESSED THE WORLD, DEGENERATING EVEN TO WHOREDOM.

III. THE DIABOLICAL PRACTICE OF ATTEMPTING TO PREVENT CHILD-BEARING BY PHYSICAL PREPARATIONS.

IV. THE FATAL CONSEQUENCES OF CLANDESTINE OR FORCED MARRIAGES, THROUGH THE PERSUASION, INTEREST, OR INFLUENCE OF PARENTS AND RELATIONS, TO WED THE PERSON THEY HAVE NO LOVE FOR, BUT OFTENTIMES AN AVERSION TO.

V. OF UNEQUAL MATCHES, AS TO THE DISPROPORTION OF AGE; AND HOW SUCH, MANY WAYS, OCCASION A MATRIMONIAL WHOREDOM.

VI. HOW MARRIED PERSONS MAY BE GUILTY OF CONJUGAL LEWDNESS, AND THAT A MAN MAY, IN EFFECT, MAKE A WHORE OF HIS OWN WIFE.

ALSO

MANY OTHER PARTICULARS OF FAMILY CONCERN.

Loose thoughts, at first, like subterranean fires,
Burn inward, smothering, with unchaste desires;
But getting vent, to rage and fury turn,
Burst in volcanoes, and like Ætna burn;
The heat increases, as the flames aspire,
And turns the solid hills to liquid fire;

So sensual flames, when raging in the soul,
First vitiate all the parts, then fire the whole;
Burn up the bright, the beauteous, the sublime,
And turn our lawful pleasures into crime.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR

T. WARNER, AT THE BLACK BOY IN PATERNOSTER ROW.

MDCCXXVII.

LONDON:

REPRINTED BY CHARLES REYNELL, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET;

AND

PUBLISHED BY J. CLEMENTS, AT 21 AND 22, IN THE SAME STREET,

MDCCCXLI.