Produced by Jonathan Ingram Debra Storr and Distributed ProofreadersTALES AND NOVELSBYMARIA EDGEWORTHIN TEN VOLUMESWITH ENGRAVINGS ON STEELVOL IXHARRINGTON THOUGHTS ON BORESANDORMONDTO THE READERIn my seventyfourth year I have the satisfaction of seeing another workof my daughter brought before the public This was more than I could haveexpected from my advanced age and declining healthI have been reprehended by some of the public critics for the _notices_which I have annexed to my daughters works As I do not know their reasonsfor this reprehension I cannot submit even to their respectable authorityI trust however the British public will sympathize with what a fatherfeels for a daughters literary success particularly as this father anddaughter have written various works in partnershipThe natural and happy confidence reposed in me by my daughter puts it in mypower to assure the public that she does not write negligently I canassert that twice as many pages were written for these volumes as are nowprintedThe first of these tales HARRINGTON was occasioned by an extremelywellwritten letter which Miss Edgeworth received from America from aJewish lady complaining of the illiberality with which the Jewish nationhad been treated in some of Miss Edgeworths worksThe second tale ORMOND is the story of a young gentleman who is in somerespects the reverse of Vivian The moral of this tale does not immediatelyappear for the author has taken peculiar care that it should not obtrudeitself upon the readerPublic critics have found several faults with Miss Edgeworths formerworksshe takes this opportunity of returning them sincere thanks for thecandid and lenient manner in which her errors have been pointed out In thepresent Tales she has probably fallen into many other faults but she hasendeavoured to avoid those for which she has been justly reprovedAnd now indulgent reader I beg you to pardon this intrusion and withthe most grateful acknowledgments I bid you farewell for everRICHARD LOVELL EDGEWORTH_Edgeworthstown May_ 311817_Note_Mr Edgeworth died a few days after he wrote this Prefacethe13th June 1817                                   HARRINGTONCHAPTER IWhen I was a little boy of about six years old I was standing with amaidservant in the balcony of one of the upper rooms of my fathers housein Londonit was the evening of the first day that I had ever been inLondon and my senses had been excited and almost exhausted by the vastvariety of objects that were new to me It was dusk and I was growingsleepy but my attention was awakened by a fresh wonder As I stood peepingbetween the bars of the balcony I saw star after star of light appear inquick succession at a certain height and distance and in a regular lineapproaching nearer and nearer I twitched the skirt of my maids gownrepeatedly but she was talking to some acquaintance at the window of aneighbouring house and she did not attend to me I pressed my foreheadmore closely against the bars of the balcony and strained my eyes moreeagerly towards the object of my curiosity Presently the figure of thelamplighter with his blazing torch in one hand and his ladder in theother became visible and with as much delight as philosopher everenjoyed in discovering the cause of a new and grand phenomenon I watchedhis operations I saw him fix and mount his ladder with his little blackpot swinging from his arm and his red smoking torch waving withastonishing velocity as he ran up and down the ladder Just when hereached the ground being then within a few yards of our house his torchflared on the face and figure of an old man with a long white beard and adark visage who holding a great bag slung over one shoulder walkedslowly on repeating in a low abrupt mysterious tone the cry of Oldclothes Old clothes Old clothes I could not understand the words hesaid but as he looked up at our balcony he saw mesmiledand I rememberthinking that he had a goodnatured countenance The maid nodded to him hestood still and at the same instant she seized upon me exclaiming Timefor you to come off to bed Master HarringtonI resisted and clinging to the rails began kicking and roaringIf you dont come quietly this minute Master Harrington said she Illcall to Simon the Jew there pointing to him and he shall come up andcarry you away in his great bagThe old mans eyes were upon me and to my fancy the look of his eyes andhis whole face had changed in an instant I was struck with terrormyhands let go their graspand I suffered myself to be carried off asquietly as my maid could desire She hurried and huddled me into bed bidme go to sleep and ran down stairs To sleep I could not go but full offear and curiosity I lay pondering on the thoughts of Simon the Jew andhis bag who had come to carry me away in the height of my joys His facewith the light of the torch upon it appeared and vanished and flittedbefore my eyes The next morning when daylight and courage returned Iasked my maid whether Simon the Jew was a good or a bad man Observing theimpression that had been made upon my mind and foreseeing that theexpedient which she had thus found successful might be advantageouslyrepeated she answered with oracular duplicity Simon the Jew is a goodman for naughty boys The threat of Simon the Jew was for some timeafterwards used upon every occasion to reduce me to passive obedience andwhen by frequent repetition this threat had lost somewhat of its power sheproceeded to tell me in a mysterious tone stories of Jews who had beenknown to steal poor children for the purpose of killing crucifying andsacrificing them at their secret feasts and midnight abominations The lessI understood the more I believedAbove all others there was one storyhorrible most horriblewhich sheused to tell at midnight