‘The family were residing at Cotele (I do not know the date of the year), when Lady Edgcumbe became much indisposed, and to all appearance died. How long after is not stated, but her body was deposited in the family vault of the parish church. The interment had not long taken place, before the sexton (who must have heard from the nurse or servants that she was buried with something of value upon her) went down into the vault at midnight, and contrived to force open the coffin. A gold ring was on her ladyship’s finger, which in a hurried way he attempted to draw off, but, not readily succeeding, he pressed with great violence the finger. Upon this the body moved in the coffin, and such was the terror of the man, that he ran away as fast as he could, leaving his lantern behind him. Lady Edgcumbe arose, astonished at finding herself dressed in grave-clothes, and numbered with the tenants of the vault. She took up the lantern, and proceeded at once to the mansion of Cotele. The terror, followed by the rejoicing of her family and household, which such a resurrection from the tomb occasioned, may well be conceived. Exactly five years after this circumstance, she became the mother of that Sir Richard Edgcumbe, who was created Baron. Polwhele, in his “History of Cornwall,” says: “Of the authenticity of this event there can be no reasonable doubt. A few years ago a gentleman of my acquaintance heard all the particulars of the transaction from the late Lord Graves, of Thancks, which is in the neighbourhood of Cotele. But I need not appeal to Lord Graves’s authority, as I recollect the narrative as coming from the lips of my grandmother Polwhele, who used to render the story extremely interesting from a variety of minute circumstances, and who, from her connexion and intimacy of her own with the Edgcumbe family, was unquestionably well-informed on the subject.” ‘It may seem strange that when Lady Edgcumbe was thus committed to the grave she was not buried in lead; but at the period of her supposed death it was very unusual to bury persons, even of high rank and station, in a leaden coffin, if they died and were buried in the country. The nearest town to Cotele of any note was Plymouth, a seaport to which there was then no regular road from the far-distant old mansion, and I question if at that period Plymouth could have furnished such an unusual thing as a lead coffin. Lady Edgcumbe was probably buried in oak secured by nails or screws, which without much difficulty could be forced open by the sexton in his meditated robbery of the body.’