ade herself so supremely ridiculous, that the
laughers called her Princess Buckingham. Even the deepest domestic
calamity could not tame down this outrageous pride. When her only son
died of consumption, she sent messengers to all her circle, telling
them, that if they wished to see him lie in state, "she would admit them
by the back stairs." On this melancholy occasion, her only feeling
seemed to be, her vanity. She sent to the Duchess of Marlborough to
borrow the triumphal car which had conveyed the remains of the great
duke to the grave. This preposterous request was naturally refused by
the duchess, who replied, "that the car which had borne the Duke of
Marlborough's dead body should never be profaned by another."

On her own deathbed, she declared her wish to be buried beside her
father James the Second. "George Selwyn shrewdly said, that to be buried
by her father, she need not be carried out of England," (she was
supposed to be actually the daughter of Colonel Graham.) When she found
herself dying, she carried on the melancholy farce to the last. She sent
for Anstis, the herald, and arranged the whole funeral ceremony with
him. She was particularly anxious to see the preparations before she
died. "Why," she asked, "won't they send the canopy for me to see? Let
them send it, even though the tassels are not finished." And finally,
she exacted from her ladies a promise, that if she became insensible,
they should not sit down in the presence of her body, till she was
completely dead!

Such things told in a romance, would be criticised for their
extravagance, but nothing is too extravagant for human nature. Reared in
folly, pampered with self-indulgence, and bloated with vanity, the
wholesome discipline of adversity would have been of infinite value to
this woman and her tribe. Six months in Bridewell, varied by beating
hemp, would have been the most fortunate lesson which she could have
received from society.

Another of those persons, yet more remarkable for her position in life,
was the second daughter of George II., the Princess Amelia. She was
supposed to have been attached to the Duke of Grafton; but remaining
single, and having nothing on the earth to do, she became a torment to
the King, the Court, and every body. Idleness is the vice of high life,
and discontent its punishment. The Princess became proverbial for
peevishness, sarcasm, and scandal. Of course, fashion took its revenge;
and where every one was