Cut the hare into small pieces, wash it and put it into a stew-pan, with a knuckle of veal; put in it a gallon of water, a little salt, and a handful of sweet herbs; let it stew 'till the gravy be good; fry a little of the hare to brown the soop; you may put in it some crusts of write bread among the meat to thicken the soop; put it into a dish, with a little stew'd spinage, crisp'd bread, and a few forc'd-meat balls.

You may make olives of veal the same way.

It tasted like tender beef, with perhaps more flavor,sometimes like veal.

Mrs. 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 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 endeavor what they can to blast Mrs. Bargrave's reputation and to laugh the story out of countenance.

Mrs. Veal was intimately acquainted with Mrs. Bargrave from her childhood.

Mrs. Veal's circumstances were then mean; her father did not take care of his children as he ought, so that they were exposed to hardships.

"What did you think of me?" says Mrs. Veal.

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 Drelincourt's Book of Death, which was the best, she said, on the subject ever wrote.

Says Mrs. Veal, "Dear Mrs. Bargrave, if the eyes of our faith were as open as the eyes of our body, we should see numbers of angels about us for our guard.

Have you seen the book?" says Mrs. Veal.

"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 waived the thing, saying, "holding down her head would make it ache"; and then desiring Mrs. Bargrave to read them to her, which she did.

"Ah!" says Mrs. Veal, "these poets have such names for Heaven."

"Dear Mrs. Veal," says Mrs. Bargrave, "this seems so impertinent that I cannot tell how to comply with it; and what a mortifying story will our conversation be to a young gentleman.

Mrs. Bargrave, then, to 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.

Then she related the whole story to Captain Watson's family; and what gown she had on, and how striped; and that Mrs. Veal told her that it was scoured.

I should have told you before that Mrs. Veal told Mrs. Bargrave that her sister and brother-in-law were just come down from London to see her.

"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.

Now, Mr. Veal is more of a gentleman than to say she lies, but says a bad husband has crazed her; but she needs only present herself, and it will effectually confute that pretence.

Mr. Veal says he asked his sister on her death-bed whether she had a mind to dispose of anything.

Now the things which Mrs. Veal's apparition would have disposed of were so trifling, and nothing of justice aimed at in the disposal, that the design of it appears to me to be only in order to make Mrs. Bargrave satisfy the world of the reality thereof as to what she had seen and heard, and to secure her reputation among the reasonable and understanding part of mankind.

This looks improbable; for that Mrs. Watson owned that Mrs. Veal was so very careful of the key of her cabinet that she would trust nobody with it; and if so, no doubt she would not trust her gold out of it.

So that, after all, to suppose that Mrs. Bargrave could hatch such an invention as this, from Friday noon to Saturday noonsupposing that she knew of Mrs. Veal's death the very first momentwithout jumbling circumstances, and without any interest, too, she must be more witty, fortunate, and wicked, too, than any indifferent person, I dare say, will allow.