youth, he never needed the stimulus of convivial company, or of new
auditors; his spirits and conversation were always more delightful
in his own family and in everyday life than in company, even the
most literary or distinguished.'

The relations between Edgeworth and his daughter Maria were
peculiarly close, and she gratefully acknowledges how much she owed
to his suggestions and criticisms. He did not share his friend Mr.
Day's objections to literary ladies, and was a great admirer of Mrs.
Barbauld's writings:

'Ever the true friend and champion of female literature, and zealous
for the honour of the female sex, he rejoiced with all the
enthusiasm of a warm heart when he found, as he now did, female
genius guided by feminine discretion. He exulted in every instance
of literary celebrity, supported by the amiable and respectable
virtues of private life; proving by example that the cultivation of
female talents does not unfit women for their domestic duties and
situation in society.'

When Maria began to write she always told her father her rough plan,
and he, 'with the instinct of a good critic, used to fix immediately
upon that which would best answer the purpose.--"Sketch that and
show it to me!"--These words' (she adds), 'from the experience of
his sagacity, never failed to inspire me with hopes of success. It
was then sketched. Sometimes, when I was fond of a particular part,
I use to dilate on it in the sketch; but to this he always objected
--"I don't want any of your painting--none of your drapery!--I can
imagine all that--let me see the bare skeleton." . . .

'After a sketch had his approbation, he would not see the filling it
up till it had been worked upon for a week or a fortnight, or till
the first thirty or forty pages were written; then they were read to
him; and if he thought them going on tolerably well, the pleasure in
his eyes, the approving sound of his voice, even without the praise
he so warmly bestowed, were sufficient and delightful excitements to
"go on and finish." When he thought that there was spirit in what
was written, but that it required, as it often did, great
correction, he would say, "Leave that to me; it is my business to
cut and correct--yours to write on." His skill in cutting, his
decision in criticism, was peculiarly useful to me. His ready
invention and infinite resource, when I had run myself into
difficulties or absurdities, never failed to extricate me at my
utmost nee