“It was, indeed,” said the stranger, “a very mad thing in Charles to think of adding so vast a country as Russia to his dominions:  that would have been fatal indeed; the balance of the North would then have been lost; but the Sultan and I would never have allowed it.”—­ “Sir!” said Harley, with no small surprise on his countenance.—­ “Why, yes,” answered the other, “the Sultan and I; do you know me?  I am the Chan of Tartary.”

Harley was a good deal struck by this discovery; he had prudence enough, however, to conceal his amazement, and bowing as low to the monarch as his dignity required, left him immediately, and joined his companions.

He found them in a quarter of the house set apart for the insane of the other sex, several of whom had gathered about the female visitors, and were examining, with rather more accuracy than might have been expected, the particulars of their dress.

Separate from the rest stood one whose appearance had something of superior dignity.  Her face, though pale and wasted, was less squalid than those of the others, and showed a dejection of that decent kind, which moves our pity unmixed with horror:  upon her, therefore, the eyes of all were immediately turned.  The keeper who accompanied them observed it:  “This,” said he, “is a young lady who was born to ride in her coach and six.  She was beloved, if the story I have heard is true, by a young gentleman, her equal in birth, though by no means her match in fortune:  but love, they say, is blind, and so she fancied him as much as he did her.  Her father, it seems, would not hear of their marriage, and threatened to turn her out of doors if ever she saw him again.  Upon this the young gentleman took a voyage to the West Indies, in hopes of bettering his fortune, and obtaining his mistress; but he was scarce landed, when he was seized with one of the fevers which are common in those islands, and died in a few days, lamented by every one that knew him.  This news soon reached his mistress, who was at the same time pressed by her father to marry a rich miserly fellow, who was old enough to be her grandfather.  The death of her lover had no effect on her inhuman parent:  he was only the more earnest for her marriage with the man he had provided for her; and what between her despair at the death of the one, and her aversion to the other, the poor young lady was reduced to the condition you see her in.  But God would not prosper such cruelty; her father’s affairs soon after went to wreck, and he died almost a beggar.”

Though this story was told in very plain language, it had particularly attracted Harley’s notice; he had given it the tribute of some tears.  The unfortunate young lady had till now seemed entranced in thought, with her eyes fixed on a little garnet ring she wore on her finger; she turned them now upon Harley.  “My Billy is no more!” said she; “do you weep for my Billy?  Blessings on your tears!  I would weep too, but my brain