dren read the papers, including the Parliamentary debates, and amused themselves by discussing, in hushed voices, the rival merits of Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington. They had no story books. The Duke of Wellington was their hero of romance, whom they worshiped with absolute devotion. One thing at least they enjoyed, perfect liberty, and they were happy in their own way.
This lasted for a year; then Miss Branwell arrived, a kind and efficient, if somewhat fastidious little maiden aunt, who undertook to reclaim them from their wildness and instruct them in civilized accomplishments. Submission to her rule was not easy after such entire freedom; but she did them much good, and they soon learned to like and respect her. They learned lessons which they recited to their father, and the five little girls were instructed in sewing, cooking, and housework. Their leisure they still employed in long rambles on the moor, and in telling each other wonderful stories of heroism, adventure, or magic. One spring, they were all taken sick with a complication of measles and whooping cough, and on their recovery, Mr. Brontë thought a change of air desirable for the elder ones. In July, 1824, he sent Maria and Elizabeth to a school for clergymen's daughters at Cowan's Bridge; in September they were joined by Emily and Charlotte.
To the readers of Charlotte Brontë it would be superfluous to describe this school—the "Lowood" of "Jane Eyre." Its miserable diet, unhealthy situation, long lessons, rigid discipline, low type of religion, and continual sermons upon humility—nothing is there forgotten, nor is anything exaggerated. Moreover, the descriptions of both teachers and pupils are most of them portraits. Miss Temple and Miss Scatcherd are drawn from the life; and the pathetic figure of Helen Burns is a delineation of Maria Brontë, whose death from consumption was
