One history of an apparition at the beginning of the eighteenth century may here follow; the simplicity of the account proves its authenticity; there are certain characteristics of truth which cannot be simulated by inventors. A pious priest of Valognes, named Bézuel, was invited to dinner on January 7, 1708 by a lady related to the Abbé de Saint-Pierre, the Abbé being also of the company, and the priest recounted, at their request, the appearance of one of his deceased comrades in open day, some twelve years previously. In 1695, he told them that he was a young scholar, about fifteen years old and that he was acquainted with two lads, sons of Abaquène, a solicitor, who were scholars like himself. “The elder was my own age and the other, who was some eighteen months younger, was named Desfontaines; we walked together and shared our amusements; and whether or not Desfontaines had greater friendship for me, or was more lively, more affable, more intelligent than his brother, I know that I cared for him more. We were wandering in the cloister of the Capucins, in 1696, when he told me that he had been reading a story of two friends who had promised one another that whichever of them died first should bring news of his condition to him who survived; that one of them who did pass away redeemed his pledge and told the survivor astonishing things. Desfontaines then said that he had a favour to ask me, which was to make a similar promise, he doing likewise on his own part. I was, however, unwilling and indeed declined the proposal; several months passed away, during which he recurred frequently to the idea, I always resisting. About August, 1696, when he was on the point of leaving to continue his studies at Caen, he pressed me so much, and with tears in his eyes, that at length I consented. He produced thereupon two little slips of paper on which he had written beforehand, one signed with his blood and in which he promised me, in the event of his death, to give me news of his state, the other in which I entered into a similar bond. I pricked my finger, and with the blood which issued therefrom I signed my own name. He was delighted to receive the promise and embraced me with a thousand thanks. Some time after he left, accompanied by his brother; the separation was grievous to both of us; we wrote from time to time, and then there was a silence for the space of six weeks, after which the event happened that I am about to relate. On July 31, 1697, being a Thursday and a day which I shall always remember, the late M. de Sortoville, with whom I lodged and who was always exceedingly good to me, begged me to go into a meadow adjoining the Franciscan monastery and help his people in haymaking. I had not been there for more than a quarter of an hour when, about half past two, I suddenly felt giddy and overcome with weakness. It was to no purpose that I tried to lean on my hay-fork; I felt obliged