“Branwell declares that he neither can nor will do anything for himself; good situations have been offered him, for which, by a fortnight’s work, he might have qualified himself, but he will do nothing except drink and make us all wretched.”

In the “Athenaeum” of July 4th, under the head of poetry for the million, came a short review of the poems of C., E., and A. Bell.  The reviewer assigns to Ellis the highest rank of the three “brothers,” as he supposes them to be; he calls Ellis “a fine, quaint spirit;” and speaks of “an evident power of wing that may reach heights not here attempted.”  Again, with some degree of penetration, the reviewer says, that the poems of Ellis “convey an impression of originality beyond what his contributions to these volumes embody.”  Currer is placed midway between Ellis and Acton.  But there is little in the review to strain out, at this distance of time, as worth preserving.  Still, we can fancy with what interest it was read at Haworth Parsonage, and how the sisters would endeavour to find out reasons for opinions, or hints for the future guidance of their talents.

I call particular attention to the following letter of Charlotte’s, dated July 10th, 1846.  To whom it was written, matters not; but the wholesome sense of duty in it—­the sense of the supremacy of that duty which God, in placing us in families, has laid out for us, seems to deserve especial regard in these days.

“I see you are in a dilemma, and one of a peculiar and difficult nature.  Two paths lie before you; you conscientiously wish to choose the right one, even though it be the most steep, strait, and rugged; but you do not know which is the right one; you cannot decide whether duty and religion command you to go out into the cold and friendless world, and there to earn your living by governess drudgery, or whether they enjoin your continued stay with your aged mother, neglecting, for the present, every prospect of independency for yourself, and putting up with daily inconvenience, sometimes even with privations.  I can well imagine, that it is next to impossible for you to decide for yourself in this matter, so I will decide it for you.  At least, I will tell you what is my earnest conviction on the subject; I will show you candidly how the question strikes me.  The right path is that which necessitates the greatest sacrifice of self-interest—­which implies the greatest good to others; and this path, steadily followed, will lead, I believe, in time, to prosperity and to happiness, though it may seem, at the outset, to tend quite in a contrary direction.  Your mother is both old and infirm; old and infirm people have but few sources of happiness—­fewer almost than the comparatively young and healthy can conceive; to deprive them of one of these is cruel.  If your mother is more composed when you are with her, stay with her.  If she would be unhappy in case you left her, stay with her.  It will