verdict. She was not, and never had been, good-looking[1]; but a face that beamed such kindliness, reflected such intelligence, could never be really plain. In form, she was petite; her well-made, almost elegant figure, that remained slight to the last, was enhanced by a scrupulously trim appearance. She was very neat and particular in her dress, and was not only always tidy, but well-attired, and in accordance with the fashion. She maintained throughout her life that a woman should not be above attending to her dress. Ostentation of any kind was foreign to her nature. When a relative died, leaving her a pair of valuable diamond ear-rings and pearl bracelets, her instant thought was, what good could she do with them. They were sold at once, and with the proceeds she built a village market-house, and a room for the magistrate's petty sessions. Her generosity, both in giving money, time, and labour for others, was boundless; and her kindnesses were made doubly kind by the thoughtfulness with which they were executed. Thus, for example, many of her tenants and neighbours had relations or friends who had emigrated to the United States. These poor people often found that letters they wrote to America miscarried, a frequent reason being, of course, insufficient or illegible addresses. To obviate this, Miss Edgeworth caused them to send her all their letters, which she then forwarded once a month. This labour often gave her no small trouble, but she grudged neither this nor the time spent in making up the monthly packet. Her poor neighbours, she deemed, repaid her only
- ↑ She always refused to have her portrait taken, and all published so-called portraits of Maria Edgeworth are purely fancy productions.
