In ancient times, in a country of the East, there lived a Queen Dowager, whose heart was eaten up by ambition. She was a king's daughter, and had ever been accustomed to rule. While her husband lived she had exerted great influence at court, and had turned away his heart from the true and established religion of the state to the cruel worship of the idols of her native land; and this she accomplished, although he had been religiously educated, and was the son of an eminently good man. Little did it affect her, that a highly-distinguished prophet of God wrote a letter to the king her husband, foretelling the evils that should befall himself, his family, and his kingdom, and that this prophecy had been literally fulfilled. Little did it humble her proud spirit, that by the common consent, her degenerate husband, who, through _her_ persuasions and example, had been led away from the path of duty, was judged unworthy to be interred within the sepulchres of his ancestors, and was buried apart. She had too much of her mother within her to be daunted by such trifles as these; for both of her parents had acquired an eminence in wickedness which have made their names by-words: but her mother's especially is considered almost a synonym for every thing that is unlovely in woman. After her husband's death, her son succeeded to the throne, and he also did wickedly, for he had been educated under his mother's eyes, trod in her footsteps, and courted the society of her connections. And this was the cause of his death; for while paying a visit at the court of his uncle, her brother, they both were killed together in a successful insurrection. And now, if ever, if any thing of the woman was left in her nature, the queen's heart would be softened and humbled: at one fell swoop, death had carried off her only son, her brother, and every member of her father's house; she only was left, of all that proud and numerous family. Her aged mother, aged, but not venerable, although now a great-grandmother, had met her fate in a characteristic manner. Determined, if she must die, to do so like a queen, she had put on her royal robes, and adorned herself with jewels, and caused her withered face, upon which every evil passion had left its mark, to be painted into some semblance of youth and beauty. Her eyelids were stained with the dark antimony still used in the East, to restore, if possible, the former brilliant softness to eyes of hard, blazing, wicked blackness. Gazing from an upper window of the palace upon the usurper, as he drove into the courtyard, the fearless woman, resolved to show her spirit to the last, railed upon him, and quoted a notable instance from history of one who, like him, had been a successful rebel, but had reigned for only seven days. Enraged at her insolence, her enemy, looking up, asked, "Who in the palace is on my side?" At these words, some officers of the household cast her down from the window: thus ingloriously she died, and