In 1798 _Practical Education_ was published in two large octavo volumes, bearing the joint names of Richard and Maria Edgeworth upon their title-page. This was the first work of that literary partnership of father and daughter which Maria Edgeworth describes as "the joy and pride of my life." * * * * * MARIA _to_ MISS SOPHY RUXTON. EDGEWORTHSTOWN, _Nov. 19, '98._ You have, I suppose, or are conscious that you ought to have, whitlows upon your thumb and all your four fingers for not writing to me! Tell me what you are saying and doing, and above all where you are going. My father has taken me into a new partnership--we are writing a comedy: will you come and see it acted? He is making a charming theatre in the room over his study: it will be twice as large as old Poz's little theatre in the dining-room. My aunt's woollen wig for old Poz is in high estimation in the memory of man, woman, and child here. I give you the play-bill: Mrs. Fangle (a rich and whimsical widow) Emmeline. Caroline (a sprightly heiress) Charlotte. Jemima (Mrs. Fangle's waiting-maid) Bessy. Sir Mordant Idem (in love with Mrs. Fangle, and elderly, and hating anything _new_) Henry. Opal (nephew to Sir Mordant, and hating everything _old_, in love with Caroline, and wild for illuminatism) Sneyd. Count Babelhausen (a German illuminatus, trying to marry either Mrs. Fangle or Caroline) Lovell. Heliodorus and Christina (Mrs. Fangle's } William children, on whom she tries strange } and experiments) } Honora. To explain illuminatism I refer you to Robinson's book called _Proofs of a Conspiracy._ It was from this book, which gives a history of the cheats of Freemasonry and Illuminatism, that we took the idea of Count Babelhausen. The book is tiresome, and no sufficient proofs given of the facts, but parts of it will probably interest you. Lovell has bought a fine apparatus and materials for a course of chemical lectures which he is going to give us. The study is to be the laboratory: I wish you were _in it._ In the _Monthly Review_ for October there is this anecdote. After the King of Denmark, who was somewhat silly, had left Paris, a Frenchman, who was in company with the Danish Ambassador, but did not know him, began to ridicule the King--"Ma foi! il a une tête! une tête--" "Couronnée," replied the Ambassador, with presence of mind and politeness. My father, who was much delighted with this answer, asked Lovell, Henry, and Sneyd, without telling the right answer, what they would have said. Lovell: "A head--and a heart, sir." Henry: "A head--upon his shoulders." Sneyd: "A head--of a King." Tell me which answer you like best. Richard will take your _Practical Education_ to you.