Compare this state of mind with the gentle resignation with which she had submitted to be put aside as useless, or told of her ugliness by her school-fellows, only three years before.

“My life since I saw you has passed as monotonously and unbroken as ever; nothing but teach, teach, teach, from morning till night.  The greatest variety I ever have is afforded by a letter from you, or by meeting with a pleasant new book.  The ‘Life of Oberlin,’ and ’Leigh Richmond’s Domestic Portraiture,’ are the last of this description.  The latter work strongly attracted and strangely fascinated my attention.  Beg, borrow, or steal it without delay; and read the ’Memoir of Wilberforce,’—­that short record of a brief uneventful life; I shall never forget it; it is beautiful, not on account of the language in which it is written, not on account of the incidents it details, but because of the simple narrative it gives of a young talented sincere Christian.”

* * * * *

About this time Miss W—–­ removed her school from the fine, open, breezy situation of Roe Head, to Dewsbury Moor, only two or three miles distant.  Her new residence was on a lower site, and the air was less exhilarating to one bred in the wild hill-village of Haworth.  Emily had gone as teacher to a school at Halifax, where there were nearly forty pupils.

“I have had one letter from her since her departure,” writes Charlotte, on October 2nd, 1836:  “it gives an appalling account of her duties; hard labour from six in the morning to eleven at night, with only one half-hour of exercise between.  This is slavery.  I fear she can never stand it.”

* * * * *

When the sisters met at home in the Christmas holidays, they talked over their lives, and the prospect which they afforded of employment and remuneration.  They felt that it was a duty to relieve their father of the burden of their support, if not entirely, or that of all three, at least that of one or two; and, naturally, the lot devolved upon the elder ones to find some occupation which would enable them to do this.  They knew that they were never likely to inherit much money.  Mr. Bronte had but a small stipend, and was both charitable and liberal.  Their aunt had an annuity of 50_l_., but it reverted to others at her death, and her nieces had no right, and were the last persons in the world to reckon upon her savings.  What could they do?  Charlotte and Emily were trying teaching, and, as it seemed, without much success.  The former, it is true, had the happiness of having a friend for her employer, and of being surrounded by those who knew her and loved her; but her salary was too small for her to save out of it; and her education did not entitle her to a larger.  The sedentary and monotonous nature of the life, too, was preying upon her health and spirits, although, with necessity “as her mistress,” she might hardly like to acknowledge this even to herself.