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 old man how long he had been ill? the poor man told him. Said the Stranger, "I can cure you. Take two or three balm leaves steeped in your beer for a fortnight or three weeks, and you will be restored to your health; but constantly and zealously serve God." The poor man did so, and became perfectly well. This Stranger was in a purple-shag gown, such as was not seen or known in those parts. And no body in the street after even song did see any one in such a coloured habit. Doctor Gilbert Sheldon, since Archbishop of Canterbury, was then in the Moorlands, and justified the truth of this to Elias Ashmole, Esq., from whom I had this account, and he hath inserted it in some of his memoirs, which are in the Musseum at Oxford. **MR. J. LYDAL of Trinity College, Soc. Oxon. March 11, 1649, 50, attests the ensuing relation, in a letter to Mr. Aubrey, thus, MR. AUBREY,