Miss Edgeworth has all the humour so especially Irish. There is one touch in Castle Rackrent perfectly inimitable—it is the simple surprise expressed by the narrator concerning the departure of the last baronet's widow; she has been ill-used, almost imprisoned, by her husband, yet the only comment is the wonder that she could be in such a hurry to leave Ireland. The story of Vivian might be pointed out as a model of its style—the inevitable presides over it from first to last. The great object of Miss Edgeworth's writings is to point out the influence of character over circumstance. Weak, irresolute, the die of Vivian's fate is cast from the beginning, while the stern lesson deepens in interest to the last. Humour is the great characteristic of Miss Edgeworth's writings; but it makes good the assertion, that humour is as nearly allied to tears as to laughter.
Miss Austin's mind is of another class. The thoughtful analysis, the passionate, and the pathetic are not the elements with which she works; but for an actual, living, breathing representation of English country-life her pictures are unequalled. I do not know whether this may be the most strongly felt by one who has chiefly resided in London, but I never paid a visit in the country without fancying
