In the year 1800 Miss Edgeworth, thirty-three years old, began her independent career as a novelist with “Castle Rackrent;” and from that time on, work followed work in illustration of the power of a woman of genius to associate quick wit and quick feeling with sound sense and a good reason for speaking.  Sir Walter Scott in his frank way declared that he received an impulse from Miss Edgeworth’s example as a story-teller.  In the general preface to his own final edition of the Waverley Novels he said that “Without being so presumptuous as to hope to emulate the rich humour, pathetic tenderness, and admirable tact, which pervade the works of my accomplished friend, I felt that something might be attempted for my own country of the same kind with that which Miss Edgeworth so fortunately achieved for Ireland—­something which might introduce her natives to those of the sister kingdom in a more favourable light than they had been placed hitherto, and tend to procure sympathy for their virtues and indulgence for their foibles.”

Of the three stories in this volume, who—­“Murad the Unlucky” and “The Limerick Gloves”—­first appeared in three volumes of “Popular Tales,” which were first published in 1804, with a short introduction by Miss Edgeworth’s father.  “Madame de Fleury” was written a few years later.

H. M.

MURAD THE UNLUCKY

CHAPTER I

It is well known that the grand seignior amuses himself by going at night, in disguise, through streets of Constantinople; as the caliph Haroun Alraschid used formerly to do in Bagdad.

One moonlight night, accompanied by his grand vizier, he traversed several of the principal streets of the city without seeing anything remarkable.  At length, as they were passing a rope-maker’s, the sultan recollected the Arabian story of Cogia-Hassan Alhabal, the rope-maker, and his two friends, Saad and Saadi, who differed so much in their opinion concerning the influence of fortune over human affairs.

“What is your opinion on this subject?” said the grand seignior to his vizier.

“I am inclined, please your majesty,” replied the vizier, “to think that success in the world depends more upon prudence than upon what is called luck, or fortune.”

“And I,” said the sultan, “am persuaded that fortune does more for men than prudence.  Do you not every day hear of persons who are said to be fortunate or unfortunate?  How comes it that this opinion should prevail amongst men, if it be not justified by experience?”

“It is not for me to dispute with your majesty,” replied the prudent vizier.

“Speak your mind freely; I desire and command it,” said the sultan.