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of the parish, more than a hundred near the parsonage gate to pluck a sinyears ago. The tankard is very large gle tiny twig of ivy which had forced and heavy, and contains the following its way between the stones. inscription :
Directly after breakfast, the next day,
I started for a walk upon the moors. It In Jesus we live, in Jesus we rest, And thankful receive His dying bequest;
was a fresh, sweet summer-morning; the The cup of salvation His mercy bestows, sky was clear, and dewdrops sparkled on And all from His Passion our happiness flows.
the grass. I walked up the street past Upon the paten are these words: the parsonage, and took the same path
that I had followed the day before. In Blest Jesus, what delicious fare
one of the fields, leaning upon the wall How sweet Thine entertainments are !
and talking earnestly, were two women, Never did angels taste above Redeeming grace or dying love.
apparently mother and daughter. They
gave me a civil "good-morning” as I And following both are the name and came up, and I stopped and entered date : “ William Grimshaw, Haworth, into conversation with them. They 1750."
had both known the Bronté family well, After leaving the church, I kept on and the younger had been one of Charup the street, following the low wall lotte's pupils. They cxpressed deep which encloses the churchyard till it affection for the whole family, and esrises higher, to form the boundary of pecially regretted Charlotte's untimely the parsonage grounds. I could see death, so soon after her happy married only the higher branches of the shrub- life bad begun, and when there was bery and a few sprays of ivy, which promise of the perfection of her joy in had crept over the top and were de- the immediate future. scending to clothe the outer stones with After leaving my new acquaintances, greenness and beauty, until I came to I went on towards the moors. They the gate, like a low door in the wall, rose before me, south and west, in an through which I could catch a glimpse undulating sweep as far as the eye could of the flower-beds and walks, which I reach ; but towards the north the fields had before looked upon from the tomb- sloped down a broad valley, in which stone on the opposite side. Still farther were a few detached houses (the suburbs, on I passed the kitchen, which has a as it were, of the closely-built village separate gate and pathway from the on the height), and among them the street. The door stood open, and I Methodist and Baptist chapels, each could hear the rattle of cooking uten- with its separate burying-ground. sils and the merry laughter of a child. The moors are not what I had forI thought of Tabby and “the childler" merly supposed them to be-immense in the old times, and later, of Emily, tracts of level land covered with short moulding bread with a German book dry grass ; their surface is greatly dipropped upon the table in front of her, versified, and their unevenness, together so that she migbt read while she work with the thickness of the heather that ed. Opposite is a substantial stone
grows upon them, makes walking a toilbarn, where chickens were strutting some process. The general appearance about and cackling in the sunshine. of these wastes is that of a narsh sudThe street, which is more like a quiet denly dried up, only that to the desolane, ends here, but there is an opening lation of barrenness is added the dreariin the stone wall at its head, and a nar- ness of superior elevation. They are row footpath crosses the edge of several very dreary, very desolate, even in sumfields, till it is lost in the moors beyond. mer, when the gorse and heather are in I followed this path, and took a few blossom, and the air is full of the mursteps on the outskirts of the moor; mur of bees; they must be bleak indeed but it was too late for a long walk, and when the snow settles upon them and I returned by the same way, pausing the winter winds sweep over them. And yet there is the charm of freedom house, at its close, to see some relics of in their wild solitude—a charm which the family, which I gladly consented to impresses even the passing stranger, and do. which it is easy to imagine must have The service was read by the rector, held strong power over the sensitive Rev. John Wade, and his curate, and minds of the sisters, who had known the sermon was preached by the vicar them from early childhood.
of Kildwick. I was quite surprised at There was no one in sight at this the excellence of the singing; the orearly hour, and, after wandering about gan was well played, and the children's till I was tired, I sat down upon a mass voices had evidently received careful of heather, and, lulled by the humming training. The psalms for the day were of the bees and the otherwise perfect chanted in full, and even in the Lord's silence of the place, I lost, for a time, Prayer and the Creed the organ and the consciousness of my own identity, choir foll red the voice of the rector in trying to realize the daily influences sentence by sentence, with soft, sweet of nature and society that had shaped melody, and low but distinct articulaand disciplined those remarkable char- tion. On expressing my surprise, afteracters.
wards, at such proficiency in the schoolI was roused, at last, by the ringing children, I was told that the improveof the bells in Haworth church-tower, ment dated from Mr. Nicholls' arrival answered, like an echo, by those of an- in the parish as Mr. Bronté's curate. other church upon another hillside miles Before that time the music had been away. On my return, I followed a path simple, as one would expect to find it which soon left the moors for the high- in so remote and small a parish; but he way, and then led through green lanes had at once taken the matter in hand, and by pleasant farms to a stile at the and introduced a portion of the choral upper end of the churchyard. As I service of the cathedrals, to the satismounted the steps, I thought that never
faction of all concerned. before had I seen so cheerful-looking a After service, I accompanied Mr. burial-place. The anniversary had evi. Wood, the late warden, to his home, dently drawn many visitors to the vil- according to agreement, He showed lage, and groups of these, attired in me a full set of the books written by their Sunday's best, sat with their the sisters, which had been presentfriends upon the flat tombstones, or ed by Mr. Bronté, and contained his wandered about, reading inscriptions. autograph, signed only a few days The church was nearly full when I en- before his death, the recipient havtered, and the Sunday-school children, ing supported him in bed for the purin white dresses and blue sashes, made pose. I saw, also, a small water-color a fine show in the organ-gallery. The sketch of a girl playing on a harp, Bronté pew was still empty when I took drawn by Emily in early youth. This my seat, but soon an old man entered, was nothing more than the crude atwho, perceiving that I was a stranger, tempt of a beginner ; but an oil-paintbowed politely, and made some slighting of " Jacob's Dream,” by Branwell, remark which led to an extended con- which hung upon the wall, was full of versation, in which I learned that he promise. Another most interesting obhad been a warden of the church in ject was an old copy of somebody's Mr. Bronté's time, and a familiar friend History of England,” bound in leathof the whole family. He told me, too, er, grown almost black with time, and that, being a carpenter, he had made with copious notes upon its yellow all their coffins, and had seen them all margins in Charlotte's fine, neat handburied, except Branwell. The opening writing. I was told that this book had words of the service interrupted our been a great favorite with her from talk, but the old man concluded by in- childhood, and lay always upon her viting me to return with him to his table till her death. I had hoped to
find the original crayon portrait of genius-perhaps the most splendidly Charlotte in care of some friend; but gifted of all the group; and his lack I now learned that this picture, together of principle, while it must be bewailed, with all her personal property, and as can also be partially at least-explainmuch of the furniture as it was practi- ed and excused, by contemplating the cable to move, was carried to Ireland by ruinous influences upon such a nature Mr. Nicholls, who is now living there, of an unoccupied and aimless life in a and has recently married his cousin, a place so void of mental stimulus and Miss Bell. Martha, the devoted ser
incentives to ambition as Haworth. It vant, accompanied him, so that every was hard enough for his sisters to deliving trace of the family has disap- velop their powers in such an atmospeared from Haworth. The good old phere, but they had housewifery as a man seemed pleased by my interest in resource, and their necessary attention what he had to tell, and regretted that
to its no doubt often uucongenial cares, he had not something left which had may have been a wholesome discipline, belonged to the sisters to give me. from which their brother was exempted, When the household was broken up,
to his cost. after Mr. Bronté's death, a great many On returning to my quarters, I found articles, of worth only through their not only the inn, but the churchyard associations, such as old pens, scraps adjoining, and the street in front, crowdof manuscript, &c., were given to him, ed with guests, many of whom, I was but these had been begged or car- told, had come to attend the annual ried off by strangers, until now he “Rush-bearing ” which was to begin had saved only one token from each next day. Of the origin and meaning member of the family for his own sor- of this festival I could discover nothing rowful pleasure. We spoke of Mrs. more than is implied in the term itself. Gaskell's book, and he regretted the It is still held in obedience to longmisinterpretation of character which established custom, but of its former had arisen from her eager acceptance of characteristics there remain only the information from any and every source. merry-making and small trading which He said that he had known Mr. Bronté were probably at first only attendant intimately from his arrival in the parish upon some kind of earnest labor. The till his death, and that his temper was landlord, with his wife and pretty palenot of a kind to require the occasional faced daughter, and all the servants discharge of pistols as a safety-valve for besides, were hurrying to and fro, prethe wrath which he would not allow paring an elaborate dinner, which was himself to express in words. Also, that to be eaten in the hall of the Mechanics' the story of his having burned up his Institute, for lack of room elsewhere. children's colored shoes, and cut up his My table, however, was spread in the wife's silk dress, as protests against private parlor of the inn, and the landfinery, was entirely false and absurd. lady brought me roast duck as an espeHis opinion of the children agreed with cial treat, there being not enough of that of others whom I talked with. that delicacy to set before the famished Emily was an intellectual wonder, but multitude. My dessert was a pie made her sympathies were either deficient, or of bilberries a fruit of which I had repressed by over-sensitiveness and the often read, and which I found, in apunfavorable circumstances of her short pearance and flavor, to be something beand lonely life. Anne was gentle and tween a whortleberry and a cranberry. affectionate, but less remarkable than After dinner I went out again upon either of her sisters. Charlotte's char- the moors, and, finding a secluded spot, acter seems to have been the grandest lay down in the heather, where I could of all, combining, as it did, great power see nothing but the waste of purple with conscientious activity and unself- blossoms around me and the blue sky ish tenderness. Branwell was a great overhead, and bade farewell in my their crops.
thoughts to the scenes and associations how “the girls” would often come to which I had long pictured in imagina- his house because they saw so much of tion, and had at last found so pleasant him at their own, though, in general, and dear in reality. The church-bell they were shy of visiting ; how Branagain aroused me from my reverie, and well would come to him, and talk for I returned by the same shady lanes that hours of his longing to go out into the I had followed in the morning. The great world and see its wonders for view from some points was very fine. himself; how, when Charlotte's porThere were groves and orchards and trait came from London, he was sent fair homesteads in the valleys, and on for without knowing why, and how all sides rose the undulating outline of Charlotte laughed because, not being the Yorkshire hills, many of them thick accustomed to crayon pictures, he did ly wooded, others cultivated far up the not, at first, feel sure that it was meant sides in fields whose boundaries were for her. He spoke well of Mr. Nicholls, perceptible only by the varied color of and said that, though it took some
I was agreeably disap- time for the inhabitants to understand pointed in the scenery around Haworth. him thoroughly, as he introduced into It is indeed wild, and, in winter, may the management of church and school be oppressively dreary; but, though it affairs many improvements which were presents a strong contrast to the luxuri- at first considered merely as innovaous and tender beauty of some of the tions, still their prejudices gradually midland and southern counties of Eng- wore away, and he became, in the end, land, it is far more interesting and sat- quite popular. But the place was too isfying than most regions of the United full of mournful associations for him to States. Indeed, I wish every sensitive be contented there, and, soon after Mr. mind which, in our Western tracts of Bronté's death, he returned to his old dead level, swamps, stumps, and rail home and early friends. fences, is striving to keep alive its in- My hostess gave me an affectionate born perception of the beautiful in na- good-by; and, as I passed down the ture, could have, for nourishment, the street towards the station, several pervariety and picturesqueness of scenery sons, whom I had talked with at times which, amid all their other privations, during my two days' visit, nodded in a were the daily comfort and delight of friendly way from shop-windows and those strong-souled Brontés.
open doors. In the lane I met good The next morning was dark and rainy. old Mr. Wood again, who stopped to I was to leave by the nine o'clock train; notice the pot of ivy in my hand, and and, wbile breakfast was preparing, I to give me good wishes for the long went out in spite of the storm, and
voyage before me. walked up the street past the parsonage On the brow of the hill I paused bekitchen, and back again through the fore descending, and turned to take a churchyard, where I could see last glimpse of Haworth. The rain more the windows of the family par- had ceased, and the clouds were rolling lor, and Charlotte's chamber above. away in great billowy masses towards
As I passed the church, the door was the west. Even as I gazed, they parted, open, and I found Mr. Wood within, disclosing tranquil depths of blue bewho, with his assistants, was taking yond, and a sunbeam stole through the down the scaffolding in front of the rift, lighting up the gray tower of the . organ, where the school-children had church and the slant roof of the parsat the day before. He walked up the sonage on the height, and giving tints aisle with me to the pew, and, as we of almost rainbow splendor to the mists stood over the vault which holds so that still shrouded the valley beneath. much precious dust, and looked up at In view of the excitement which perthe tablet on the wall above, he told vaded the literary world concerning the many little anecdotes of past times, writings of the Bronté sisters while their
authorship remained a mystery, and the ed from the closed door of the parsonenthusiastic reception of Mrs. Gaskell's age, prove that there still exists a strong unique biography, it might seem that, interest in the lives that were so sorrotat present, those writings have begun ful, and yet so bravely lived. to relax their hold upon the reading For Emily and Anne there was short public. Bụt the crowds of strangers, time for performance, though, in what both native and foreign, who every they gave, there was glorious promise summer flock to Haworth to read for of future achievement; and for Charthemselves that pathetic record in the lotte, too, we can but echo the lament little church, and turn away disappoint- of her friend: “If she had but lived ! ”
On the morning of the fourth of July, main range. The wagon was, if possi1869, two individuals, setting foot for ble, a more melancholy affair than the the first time in their lives upon Long horse. Two of the wheels had lost Island ground, stepped off the gang- several of their spokes, and the bottom plank of the steamer Traveller, and was a sort of irregular lattice-work corfound themselves standing in the clear, ered with oat-straw. crisp morning air on the wharf at Sag With many misgivings we climbed Harbor.
in and sat down on the tail-board, “ Lookin' for sumbody ? ” queried an which served for a seat. early-risen native, who stood with both The distance to East Hampton from hands in his pockets, leaning reflective. Sag Harbor is about eight miles, the ly against a pile of boards.
road-a good turnpike-winding nearly “ Yes. After that Hampton stage. all the way through dense thickets of Where is it?”
scrub-oak, which cover the sandy hills “Stage don't run fourth of July. on either side as far as the eye can Want to git over to Hampton ?” reach. It is hard to imagine any thing 16 Yes."
more dreary than this ride on ordinary Carry ye over inyself for a dollar." occasions, although on that morning the " Good horse ?"
clear, pure morning air, intoxicating to “ Fust rate."
our senses as a whiff of nitrous oxide, " Fetch him along."
made the journey very enjoyable. The native removed his hands from We had resolved upon walking from their comfortable place of refuge, and East Hampton to Montauk Light, if sauntered away up-street, while Carlos such a thing were possible, and were and I sat down upon the string-piece to desirous of obtaining information in reawait results.
gard to the practicability of the feat. In half an hour the equipage arrived. By reference to a map of the eastern
“Bless my soul !" was all I could portion of Long Island, it will be seen say. “You don't expect that animal to that an unbroken ocean-beach extends pull all of us, do you?"
from Montauk Point westward for more Thunder! You wait 'n' see. Git than thirty miles. This desolate waste, right in and I'll show ye."
seldom visited by the general traveller, We gazed at the spavined, knock- appeared to offer great temptations for kneed brute doubtfully. Its back was the pedestrian who desired to see the a perfect sierra, flattening in the middle Atlantic in all its original savageness, into a great central depression, and although the account given us by our rising again, in either direction, into driver that morning was any thing but three or four well-defined peaks, with encouraging. The distance from East sundry lateral spurs jutting from the Hampton to Montauk Point was twen