can forgive me, you are the best of women. O, 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? said 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 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 that subject ever written. She also mentioned Dr. Sherlock, the
two Dutch 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 she
asked Mrs. Bargrave, whether she had Drelincourt. She said, Yes. Says
Mrs. Veal, Fetch it. And so Mrs. Bargrave goes up stairs and brings it
down. 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. The notions we have of heaven now, are nothing like
what it is, as Drelincourt says; therefore be comforted under your
afflictions, and believe that the Almighty has a particular regard to
you; and that your afflictions are marks of God's favor; and when they
have done the business they are sent for, they shall be removed from
you. And believe me, my dear friend, believe what I say to you, one
minute of future happiness will infinitely reward you for all your
sufferings. For, I can never believe (and claps her hand upon her knee
with great earnestness, which indeed ran through most of her discourse),
that ever God will suffer you to spend all your days in this afflicted
state; but be assured, that your afflictions shall leave you, or you
them, in a short time. She spake in that pathetical and heavenly
manner, that Mrs. Bargrave wept several times, she was so deeply
affected with it.

Then Mrs. Veal mentioned Dr. Kenrick's Ascetick, 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. Th