(only, as I have said, with greater vehemence),
they didn't LOOK like us at all; and Mr. Edgeworth, the father of
Maria Edgeworth, the 'gay gallant,' the impetuous, ingenious, energetic
gentleman, sat writing with powdered hair and a queue, with tights and
buckles, bolt upright in a stiff chair, while his family, also bequeued
and becurled and bekerchiefed, were gathered round him in a group,
composedly attentive to his explanations, as he points to the roll
upon the table, or reads from his many MSS. and notebooks, for their
edification.

To have four wives and twenty-two children, to have invented so many
machines, engines, and curricles, steeples and telegraph posts, is more
than commonly falls to the lot of one ordinary man, but such we know was
Mr. Edgeworth's history told by his own lips.

I received by chance an old newspaper the other day, dated the 23rd July
1779. It is called the LONDON PACKET, and its news, told with long s's
and pretty curly italics, thrills one even now as one looks over the
four short pages. The leading article is entitled 'Striking Instance
of the PERFIDY of France.' It is true the grievance goes back to Louis
XIV., but the leader is written with plenty of spirit and present
indignation. Then comes news from America and the lists of New
Councillors elected:

'Artemus Ward, Francis Dana, Oliver Prescott, Samuel Baker, while a very
suitable sermon on the occasion is preached by the Rev. Mr. Stillman
of Boston.' How familiar the names all sound! Then the thanks of the
Members of Congress are given to 'General Lee, Colonel Moultrie, and the
officers and soldiers under their command who on the 28th of June last
Repulsed with so much Valour the attack that was made that day on the
State of South Carolina by the fleet and army of his Britannic Majesty.'

There is an irresistible spirit of old-world pigtail decorum and dash
about it all. We read of our 'grand fleet' waiting at Corunna for the
Spanish; of 80,000 men on the coast of Brittany supposed to be ready for
an invasion of England; of the Prince of Conde playing at cards, with
Northumberland House itself for stakes (Northumberland House which he is
INTENDING to take). We read the list of Lottery Prizes, of the L1000 and
L500 tickets; of the pressing want of seamen for His Majesty's Navy,
and how the gentlemen of Ireland are subscribers to a bounty fund. Then
comes the narrative of James Caton of Bristol, who writes to complain
that whil