ginning of harvest, I remember—Mr. Earnshaw, the old master, came down stairs, dressed for a journey; and, after he had told Joseph what was to be done during the day, he turned to Hindley, and Cathy, and me—for I sat eating my porridge, with them, and he said, speaking to his son,
"Now my bonny man, I'm going to Liverpool, to-day. . .What shall I bring you? You may choose what you like; only let it be little, for I shall walk there and back; sixty miles each way, that is a long spell!"
Hindley named a fiddle, and then he asked Miss Cathy; she was hardly six years old, but she could ride any horse in the stable, and she chose a whip.
He did not forget me, for, he had a kind heart, though he was rather severe, sometimes. He promised to bring me a pocketful of apples, and pears, and then he kissed his children, good bye, and set off.
It seemed a long while to us all—the three
