was as freely applied to any young lady, as the word ‘wench’ is in Lancashire.  The extremely untidy appearance of the villagers shocked me not a little, though I must do the housewives the justice to say that the cottages themselves were not dirty, and had an air of rough plenty about them (except when trade was bad), that I had not been accustomed to see in the farming districts.  The heap of coals on one side of the house-door, and the brewing tubs on the other, and the frequent perfume of malt and hops as you walked along, proved that fire and ‘home-brewed’ were to be found at almost every man’s hearth.  Nor was hospitality, one of the main virtues of Yorkshire, wanting.  Oat-cake, cheese, and beer were freely pressed upon the visitor.

“There used to be a yearly festival, half-religious, half social, held at Heckmondwike, called ‘The Lecture.’  I fancy it had come down from the times of the Nonconformists.  A sermon was preached by some stranger at the Lower Chapel, on a week-day evening, and the next day, two sermons in succession were delivered at the Upper Chapel.  Of course, the service was a very long one, and as the time was June, and the weather often hot, it used to be regarded by myself and my companions as no pleasurable way of passing the morning.  The rest of the day was spent in social enjoyment; great numbers of strangers flocked to the place; booths were erected for the sale of toys and gingerbread (a sort of ’Holy Fair’); and the cottages, having had a little extra paint and white-washing, assumed quite a holiday look.

“The village of Gomersall” (where Charlotte Bronte’s friend “Mary” lived with her family), “which was a much prettier place than Heckmondwike, contained a strange-looking cottage, built of rough unhewn stones, many of them projecting considerably, with uncouth heads and grinning faces carved upon them; and upon a stone above the door was cut, in large letters, ‘SPITE HALL.’  It was erected by a man in the village, opposite to the house of his enemy, who had just finished for himself a good house, commanding a beautiful view down the valley, which this hideous building quite shut out.”

Fearless—­because this people were quite familiar to all of them—­amidst such a population, lived and walked the gentle Miss W—–­’s eight or nine pupils.  She herself was born and bred among this rough, strong, fierce set, and knew the depth of goodness and loyalty that lay beneath their wild manners and insubordinate ways.  And the girls talked of the little world around them, as if it were the only world that was; and had their opinions and their parties, and their fierce discussions like their elders—­possibly, their betters.  And among them, beloved and respected by all, laughed at occasionally by a few, but always to her face—­lived, for a year and a half, the plain, short-sighted, oddly-dressed, studious little girl they called Charlotte Bronte.

CHAPTER VII