man-of-war, in the beginning of June 1688. For a year or so she made a great show in London society, gave her friends sumptuous entertainments, and herself, it would seem, incredible airs. At last the poor lady's mind gave way. She imagined herself destined to become the wife of the Emperor of China, who, having heard of her immense wealth, was hastening, she declared, to come to England, and pay her his addresses. She dwelt in Montague House, on the site of which the British Museum now stands, and she furnished the mansion sumptuously for the reception of her august suitor. She appears to have been a gentle and good-humoured person, even in her lunacy, and her attendants encouraged her in her delusions. They did more. They tried to turn her folly to good account by assisting a certain needy peer, the Duke of Montague, to personate his Chinese Majesty. "Here," continues the letter, "is the prettiest piece of business that has ever been. My Lord of Montague, disguised as the Chinese Emperor, has won the hand of that worthy, silly old woman the Duchess of Albemarle, and will, doubtless, soon confine her as a lunatic." She certainly was carefully enough guarded, but she seems to have been allowed to indulge her mania to her heart's content. She was wont to stride about her vast apartments, attired as a Chinese Empress, her attendants taking good care to kneel as she passed, and to address her in language befitting so transcendant a personage as the consort of the supreme ruler of the celestial Empire. Her Grace the Duchess of Albemarle and Empress of China survived her husband, the pretended Emperor, for many years, and died in 1734, at the vast age of ninety-eight. She was, it seems, served upon the knee to the end of her long career, and expired in the full belief that she was a Celestial Empress.