eirs 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, says she, we ought to do as
they did. There was an 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 them to Mrs. Veal to read,
who refused, and waived the thing, saying, holding down her head would
make it ache; and then desired Mrs. Bargrave to read 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 hands across her own eyes, and say,
Mrs. Bargrave, do not 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.

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 scowered
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
imp