Here, her speech ending, fled the beauteous fair,
      Melting th’ embodied form to thinner air,
      Whom the remaining scent a goddess did declare.

The learned Henry Jacob, fellow of Merton college in Oxford, died at Dr. Jacob’s, M. D. house in Canterbury.  About a week after his death, the doctor being in bed and awake, and the moon shining bright, saw his cousin Henry standing by his bed, in his shirt, with a white cap on his head and his beard-mustachoes turning up, as when he was alive.  The doctor pinched himself, and was sure he was awaked:  he turned to the other side from him; and, after some time, took courage to turn the other way again towards him, and Henry Jacob stood there still; he should have spoken to him, but he did not; for which he has been ever since sorry.  About half an hour after, he vanished.  Not long after this, the cook-maid, going to the wood-pile to fetch wood to dress supper, saw him standing in his shirt upon the wood-pile.* This account I had in a letter from Doctor Jacob, 1673, relating to his life, for Mr. Anthony Wood; which is now in his hands.

* See the whole story in Ath. & Fasti Oxon.  Part 2, p. 91.

When Henry Jacob died, he would fain have spoken to the Doctor, but could not, his tongue faltered, ** ’Tis imagined he would have told Doctor Jacob, with what person he had deposited his manuscripts of his own writing; they were all the riches he had, ’tis suspected that one had them and printed them under his own name. —–­ See there in the said Athenae, vol. or part 2. p. 90.

** This very story Dr. Jacob told me himself, being then at Lord Teynham’s, in Kent, where he was then physician to my eldest son; whom he recovered from a fever, (A.  Wood’s note.)

T, M. Esq., an old acquaintance of mine, hath assured me that about a quarter of a year after his first wife’s death, as he lay in bed awake with his grand-child, his wife opened the closet-door, and came into the chamber by the bedside, and looked upon him and stooped down and kissed him; her lips were warm, he fancied they would have been cold.  He was about to have embraced her, but was afraid it might have done him hurt.  When she went from him, he asked her when he should see her again ? she turned about and smiled, but said nothing.  The closet door striked as it used to do, both at her coming in and going out.  He had every night a great coal fire in his chamber, which gave a light as clear almost as a candle.  He was hypochondriacal; he married two wives since, the latter end of his life was uneasy.

Anno 165-.—­ At—–­in the Moorlands in Staffordshire, lived a poor old man, who had been a long time lame.  One Sunday, in the afternoon, he being alone, one knocked at his door:  he bade him open it, and come in.  The Stranger desired a cup of beer; the lame man desired him to take a dish and draw some, for he was not able to do it himself.  The Stranger asked the poor