pathy, until, provoked by her faint
acquiescence, Mrs. Ruxton at last accused her of being envious. "I am
sorry to see my little Maria unable to bear the praises of a rival
author." This remark made Miss Edgeworth burst into tears and show her
aunt the title-pages of the book. But Mrs. Ruxton was not pleased; she
never wholly liked _Belinda_ afterwards, and Miss Edgeworth had always a
painful recollection that her aunt had suspected her of the meanness of
envy.

In 1802 was published the _Essay on Irish Bulls_, bearing on its
title-page the names of father and daughter. Its title appears to have
misled even the Irish: at least it is related that an Irish gentleman,
secretary to an agricultural society, who was much interested in
improving the breed of Irish cattle, sent for it, expecting to find a
work on live stock. We have Miss Edgeworth's own account of the genesis
of the book:--

The first design of the essay was my father's: under the semblance
of attack, he wished to show the English public the eloquence, wit
and talents of the lower classes of people in Ireland. Working
zealously upon the ideas which he suggested, sometimes what was
spoken by him was afterwards written by me; or when I wrote my
first thoughts, they were corrected and improved by him; so that no
book was ever written more completely in partnership. On this, as
on most subjects, whether light or serious, when we wrote together,
it would now be difficult, almost impossible, to recollect which
thoughts originally were his and which were mine. All passages in
which there are Latin quotations or classical allusions must be his
exclusively, because I am entirely ignorant of the learned
languages. The notes on the Dublin shoe-black's metaphorical
language I recollect are chiefly his.

I have heard him tell that story with all the natural,
indescribable Irish tones and gestures, of which written language
can give but a faint idea. He excelled in imitating the Irish,
because he never overstepped the modesty or the assurance of
nature. He marked exquisitely the happy confidence, the shrewd wit
of the people, without condescending to produce effect by
caricature. He knew not only their comic talents, but their powers
of pathos; and often when he had just heard from them some pathetic
complaint, he has repeated it to me while the impression wa