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    Maria Edgeworth

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    The Absentee; Madame de Fleury; Emilie de Coulanges; The Modern Griselda
    “Are you to be at Lady Clonbrony’s gala next week?” said Lady Langdale to Mrs. Dareville, whilst they were waiting for their carriages in the crush-room of the opera-house. “Oh, yes! every body’s to be there, I hear,” replied Mrs. Dareville. “Your ladyship, of course?” “Why, I don’t know; if I possibly can. Lady Clonbrony... Read More
    MEN. MR. CARVER, of Bob’s Fort . . A Justice of the Peace in Ireland. OLD MATTHEW McBRIDE . . . . A rich Farmer. PHILIP McBRIDE . . . . . His Son. RANDAL ROONEY . . . . . Son of the Widow Catherine Rooney —a Lover of Honor McBride. MR. GERALD O’BLANEY... Read More
    Some author says, that a good book needs no apology; and, as a preface is usually an apology, a book enters into the world with a better grace without one. I, however, appeal to those readers who are not gluttons, but epicures, in literature, whether they do not wish to see the bill of fare?... Read More
    “And gave her words, where oily Flatt’ry lays The pleasing colours of the art of praise.”—PARNELL. NOTE FROM MRS. BEAUMONT TO MISS WALSINGHAM. “I am more grieved than I can express, my dearest Miss Walsingham, by a cruel contre-temps, which must prevent my indulging myself in the long-promised and long-expected pleasure of being at your... Read More
    “There is Helen in the lime-walk,” said Mrs. Collingwood to her husband, as she looked out of the window. The slight figure of a young person in deep mourning appeared between the trees,—“How slowly she walks! She looks very unhappy!” “Yes,” said Mr. Collingwood, with a sigh, “she is young to know sorrow, and to... Read More
    In my seventy-fourth year, I have the satisfaction of seeing another work of my daughter brought before the public. This was more than I could have expected from my advanced age and declining health. I have been reprehended by some of the public critics for the notices which I have annexed to my daughter’s works.... Read More
    “Above a patron—though I condescend Sometimes to call a minister my friend.” My daughter again applies to me for my paternal imprimatur; and I hope that I am not swayed by partiality, when I give the sanction which she requires. To excite the rising generation to depend upon their own exertions for success in life... Read More
    In August 1811, we are told, she wrote a little play about landlords and tenants for the children of her sister, Mrs. Beddoes. Mr. Edgeworth tried to get the play produced on the London boards. Writing to her aunt, Mrs. Ruxton, Maria says, 'Sheridan has answered as I foresaw he must, that in the present... Read More
    Mrs. Stanhope, a well-bred woman, accomplished in that branch of knowledge which is called the art of rising in the world, had, with but a small fortune, contrived to live in the highest company. She prided herself upon having established half a dozen nieces most happily, that is to say, upon having married them to... Read More
    It has been somewhere said by Johnson, that merely to invent a story is no small effort of the human understanding. How much more difficult is it to construct stories suited to the early years of youth, and, at the same time, conformable to the complicate relations of modern society—fictions, that shall display examples of... Read More
    We shall not imitate the invidious example of some authors, who think it necessary to destroy the edifices of others, in order to clear the way for their own. We have no peculiar system to support, and, consequently, we have no temptation to attack the theories of others; and we have chosen the title of... Read More
    Or, Stories for Children
    Our great lexicographer, in his celebrated eulogium on Dr. Watts, thus speaks in commendation of those productions which he so successfully penned for the pleasure and instruction of the juvenile portion of the community. “For children,” says Dr. Johnson, “he condescended to lay aside the philosopher, the scholar, and the wit, to write little poems... Read More