“On this humble desk were written all the numerous works of my daughter, Maria Edgeworth, in the common sitting-room of my family. In these works, which were chiefly written to please me, she has never attacked the personal character of any human being, or interfered with the opinions of any sect or party, religious or political; while endeavoring to inform and instruct others, she improved and amused her own mind and gratified her heart, which I do believe, is better than her head. “R. L. E.” After Mr. Edgeworth’s death she used a writing-desk which had belonged to him; and it was placed on a table of his construction, to which she added a bracket for her candlestick, and other little conveniences. GRACE A. OLIVER: ‘A Study of Maria Edgeworth.’ * * * * * The house and many of its arrangements--the bells, the doors, etc.--bear witness to that love of mechanical trifling of which Mr. Edgeworth was so often accused. It was only this morning that I fully learnt how to open, shut, and lock our chamber-door; and the dressing-glass, at which I have shaved for three mornings, is somewhat of a mystery to me still. GEORGE TICKNOR: ‘Life, Letters and Journals.’ * * * * * When shown to our bedroom, we found such an extraordinary lock on the door that we dared not shut it for fear of not being able to open it again. We were shown other contrivances of the former owner, such as a door in the entrance hall (through which the servants were continually passing), the motion of which wound up a clock, the face being over the sideboard, in the dining-room. Several doors in the house were made double, in a way that I could not see the use of. Two doors were fastened together at the hinge side, making a right angle with each other, so that in opening one door you shut the other, and had to open that before you could enter, and when that opened the one behind you shut. Miss Edgeworth said it was for safety in times of danger. She always mentioned her father with great respect, and even reverence, in her manner; but nothing that I saw or heard there raised my opinion of him. ELIZA FARRAR: ‘Recollections of Seventy Years.’ * * * * * [Sidenote: Power of abstraction.] She had a singular power of abstraction; apparently hearing all that was said, and occasionally taking part in the conversation, while pursuing her own occupation, and seemingly attending only to it. Now and then she would rise and leave the room, perhaps to procure a toy for one of the children, to mount the ladder and bring down a book that could explain or illustrate some topic on which some one was conversing: immediately she would resume her pen, and continue to write as if the thought had been unbroken for an instant. MR. AND MRS. S. C. HALL: ‘Book of Memories.’ * * * * * [Sidenote: Daily life.]