Only he carries nought away.

'Not so,' I cried, 'for raiment fine,
Sweet thoughts, heart-joys, and hopes that shine,
May clothe anew his flitting form,
As wings that change the creeping worm.

His toil-worn garb he casts aside,
And journeys onward glorified.'

B. L. T.



RICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH

CHAPTER 1

Some years ago, I came across the Memoirs of Richard Lovell
Edgeworth in a second-hand bookshop, and found it so full of
interest and amusement, that I am tempted to draw the attention of
other readers to it. As the volumes are out of print, I have not
hesitated to make long extracts from them. The first volume is
autobiographical, and the narrative is continued in the second
volume by Edgeworth's daughter Maria, who was her father's constant
companion, and was well fitted to carry out his wish that she should
complete the Memoirs.

Richard Lovell Edgeworth was born at Bath in
1744. He was a shining example of what a good landlord can do for