of his fellows.  In the balls, the theatricals, the picturesque Mischianza, he bore a leading hand; but his affections, meanwhile, appear to have remained where they were earliest and last bestowed.  In our altered days, when marriage and divorce seem so often interchangeable words, and loyal fidelity but an Old-World phrase, ill-fashioned and out of date, there is something very attractive in this hopeless constancy of an exiled lover.

Beyond the seas, meanwhile, the object of this unfortunate attachment was lending a happy and a useful life in the fulfilment of the various duties of a wife, a mother, and a friend.  Her husband was a large landed proprietor, and in public spirit was inferior to no country-gentleman of the kingdom.  Many of his notions were fanciful enough, it must be allowed; but they were all directed to the improvement and amelioration of his native land and its people.  In these pursuits, as well as in those of learning, Mrs. Edgeworth was the active and useful coadjutor of her husband; and it was probably to the desire of this couple to do something that would make the instruction of their children a less painful task than had been their own, that we are indebted for the adaptation of the simpler rudiments of science to a childish dress.  In 1778 they wrote together the First Part of “Harry and Lucy,” and printed a handful of copies in that largo black type which every one associates with the first school-days of his childhood.  From these pages she taught her own children to read.  The plan was communicated to Mr. Day, who entered into it eagerly; and an educational library seemed about to be prepared for the benefit of a far-away household in the heart of Ireland.  But a hectic disorder, that had threatened Mrs. Edgeworth’s life while yet a child, now returned upon her with increased virulence; and the kind and beautiful mistress of Edgeworthstown was compelled to forego this and every other earthly avocation.  Mr. Day expanded his little tale into the delightful story of “Sandford and Merton,” a book that long stood second only to “Robinson Crusoe” in the youthful judgment of the great boy-world; and in later years, Maria Edgeworth included “Harry and Lucy” in her “Early Lessons.”  It is thus a point to be noticed, that nothing but the res angusta domi, the lack of wealth, on the part of young Andre, was the cause of that series of little volumes being produced by Miss Edgeworth, which so long held the first place among the literary treasures of the nurseries of England and America.  Lazy Lawrence, Simple Susan, and a score more of excellently conceived characters, might never have been called from chaos to influence thousands of tender minds, but for Andre’s narrow purse.

The ravages of the insidious disease with which she was afflicted soon came to an end; and after a term of wedlock as brief as it was prosperous, Mrs. Edgeworth’s dying couch was spread.—­“I have every blessing,” she wrote, “and I am happy.  The conversation of my beloved husband, when my breath will let me have it, is my greatest delight:  he procures me every comfort, and, as he always said he thought he should, contrives for me everything that can ease and assist my weakness,—­