en she took the air in St James's
Park that she appealed to the King for an escort of soldiers, a favour
which was readily granted to "the most beautiful woman in England,"
Thus, on one occasion, we are told,

"from eight to ten o'clock in the evening, a strange
procession paraded the crowded avenues, obliging everyone
to make way and exciting universal laughter. In front
marched two sergeants with their halberds, then tripped
the self-conscious Lady Coventry, attended by her husband
and an ardent admirer, the amorous Earl of Pembroke,
while twelve soldiers of the guard followed in the rear!"

One day, so runs another story which illustrates her ladyship's lack of
discretion, she was talking to King George II., who in spite of his age,
was a great admirer of beauty, and especially of my Lady Coventry. "Are
you not sorry," His Majesty enquired, "that there are to be no more
masquerades?" "Indeed, no," was the answer. "I am quite weary of them
and of all London sights. There is only one left that I am really
anxious to see, and that is a _coronation_!" This unflattering wish she
was not destined to realise; for King George survived the foolish
beauty by a fortnight.

Lady Coventry had no greater admirer of her own charms than herself. She
spent her days worshipping at the shrine of her loveliness, and
embellished nature with every device of art. She squandered fortunes in
adorning it with the most costly jewellery and dresses, of one of which
the following story is told. One day she exhibited to George Selwyn a
wonderful costume which she was going to wear at an approaching fete.
The dress was a miracle of blue silk, richly brocaded with silver spots
of the size of a shilling. "And how do you think I shall look in it, Mr
Selwyn?" she archly asked. "Why," he replied, "you will look like change
for a guinea."

[Illustration: MARIA, COUNTESS OF COVENTRY]

Mrs Delany draws a remarkable picture of my lady at this culminating
period of her vanity.

"Yesterday after chapel," she writes, "the Duchess
brought home Lady Coventry to feast me--and a feast she
was! She is a fine figure and vastly handsome,
notwithstanding a silly look sometimes about the month;
she has a thousand airs, but with a sort of innocence
that diverts one! Her dress was a black silk sack, made
for a large hoop, which she wore without any, and it
trailed a yard on the ground. S