o
impediments now? I cannot do with them, I want very much to see you.
I hope you will be decently comfortable while you stay.

'Branwell is quieter now, and for a good reason: he has got to the
end of a considerable sum of money, and consequently is obliged to
restrict himself in some degree. You must expect to find him weaker
in mind, and a complete rake in appearance. I have no apprehension
of his being at all uncivil to you; on the contrary, he will be as
smooth as oil. I pray for fine weather that we may be able to get
out while you stay. Goodbye for the present. Prepare for much
dulness and monotony. Give my love to all at Brookroyd.

'C. BRONTE.'

TO MISS ELLEN NUSSEY

'_July_ 28_th_, 1848.

'DEAR ELLEN,--Branwell is the same in conduct as ever. His
constitution seems much shattered. Papa, and sometimes all of us,
have sad nights with him: he sleeps most of the day, and consequently
will lie awake at night. But has not every house its trial?

'Write to me very soon, dear Nell, and--Believe me, yours sincerely,

'C. BRONTE.'

Branwell Bronte died on Sunday, September the 24th, 1848, {138} and the
two following letters from Charlotte to her friend Mr. Williams are
peculiarly interesting.

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'_October_ 2_nd_, 1848.

'MY DEAR SIR,--"We have hurried our dead out of our sight." A lull
begins to succeed the gloomy tumult of last week. It is not
permitted us to grieve for him who is gone as others grieve for those
they lose. The removal of our only brother must necessarily be
regarded by us rather in the light of a mercy than a chastisement.
Branwell was his father's and his sisters' pride and hope in boyhood,
but since manhood the case has been otherwise. It has been our lot
to see him take a wrong bent; to hope, expect, wait his return to the
right path; to know the sickness of hope deferred, the dismay of
prayer baffled; to experience despair at last--and now to behold the
sudden early obscure close of what might have been a noble career.

'I do not weep from a sense of bereavement--there