A pious descendant of Abraham, whom his wife requited with a curtain lecture for having, as she thought improvidently, given alms to a poor person in a time of dearth, left his house, and went out to pass the remainder of the night among the tombs, that he might escape from her objurgations. There he overheard a conversation between the Spirits of two young women, not long deceased. The one said, “come let us go through the world, and then listen behind the curtain and hear what chastisements are decreed for it.” The other made answer, “I cannot go, because I have been buried in a mat made of reeds, but go you, and bring me account of what you hear.” Away went the Ghost whose grave-clothes were fit to appear in: and when she returned, “well friend, what have you heard behind the curtain,” said the ghost in the reed-mat. “I heard,” replied the gad-about, “that whatever shall be sown in the first rains, will be stricken with hail.” Away went the alms-giver; and upon this intelligence which was more certain than any prognostication in the Almanack, he waited till the second rains before he sowed his field; all other fields were struck with hail, but according as he had expected his crop escaped. Next year, on the anniversary of the night which had proved so fortunate to him, he went again to the Tombs: and overheard another conversation between the same ghosts to the same purport. The well drest ghost went through the world, listened behind the curtain, and brought back information that whatever should be sown in the second rains would be smitten with rust. Away went the good man, and sowed his field in the first rains; all other crops were spoilt with the rust, and only his escaped. His wife then enquired of him how it had happened that in two successive years he had sown his fields at a different time from every body else, and on both occasions his were the only crops that had been saved. He made no secret to her of his adventures, but told her how he had come to the knowledge which had proved so beneficial. Ere long his wife happened to quarrel with the mother of the poor ghost who was obliged to keep her sepulchre; and the woman of unruly tongue, among other insults, bade her go and look at her daughter, whom she had buried in a reed-mat! Another anniversary came round, and the good man went again to the Tomb; but he went this time in vain, for when the well-dressed Ghost repeated her invitation, the other made answer, “let me alone, my friend, the words which have past between you and me have been heard among the living.” The learned Cistercian[1] to whom I owe this legend, expresses his contempt for it; nevertheless he infers from it that the spirits of the dead know what passes in this world; and that the doctrine of the Romish Church upon that point, is proved by this tradition to have been that of the Synagogue also. [Footnote 1: BERTOLACCI.]