She was duly tortured on back-boards, pinioned in iron collars, made to use dumb-bells, and some rather stringent measures were taken to draw out her muscles and increase her stature. In vain; by nature she was a small woman, and small she remained. She also learnt to dance with grace in the days when dancing was something more dignified than a tearing romp, but music she failed in utterly. She had no taste for this art, and her music master, with a wisdom unhappily too rare, advised her to abandon the attempt to learn. She had been so well grounded in French and Italian, that when she came to do the exercises set her, she found them so easy that she wrote out at once those intended for the whole quarter, keeping them strung together in her desk, and unstringing them as required. The spare time thus secured, was employed in reading for her own pleasure. Her favorite seat during play-time was under a cabinet, which stood in the school-room, and here she often remained so absorbed in her book as to be deaf to all uproar. This early habit of concentrated attention was to stand her in good stead through life. HELEN ZIMMERN: ‘Maria Edgeworth.’ (Famous Women Series.) Boston: Roberts Bros., 1883. * * * * * [Sidenote: First stories.] I beg that you will send me a little tale, about the length of a ‘Spectator,’ upon the subject of _Generosity;_ it must be taken from history or romance, and must be sent the sennight after you receive this; and I beg you will take some pains about it. _Letter from Richard Lovell Edgeworth_ in 1780.... This was Maria’s first story, and unfortunately it was not preserved. She used to say “there was in it a sentence of inextricable confusion between a saddle, a man, and his horse.” She was remembered by her companions at both schools [Mrs. Latiffiere’s, at Derby, and Mrs. Davis’s, Upper Wimpole Street, London], for her entertaining stories; and she learned to know what tale was most successful with her hearers, by the wakefulness it caused. These stories were told at bed-time. Many of her narrations were taken from her memory--she devoured books while her friends played--but very many were original. The spirit of the _raconteur_ was strong, and she had early the fertile brain of the true novelist. [Sidenote: Her father’s influence.]