nd spend a day or two with Ellen
Nussey. I have enjoyed my visit exceedingly. Sir J. K. Shuttleworth
has called several times and taken me out in his carriage. He seems
very truly friendly; but, I am sorry to say, he looks pale and very
much wasted. I greatly fear he will not live very long unless some
change for the better soon takes place. Lady S. is ill too, and
cannot go out. I have seen a good deal of Dr. Arnold's family, and
like them much. As to Miss Martineau, I admire her and wonder at her
more than I can say. Her powers of labour, of exercise, and social
cheerfulness are beyond my comprehension. In spite of the unceasing
activity of her colossal intellect she enjoys robust health. She is
a taller, larger, and more strongly made woman than I had imagined
from that first interview with her. She is very kind to me, though
she must think I am a very insignificant person compared to herself.
She has just been into the room to show me a chapter of her history
which she is now writing, relating to the Duke of Wellington's
character and his proceedings in the Peninsula. She wanted an
opinion on it, and I was happy to be able to give a very approving
one. She seems to understand and do him justice.

'You must not direct any more letters here as they will not reach me
after to-day. Hoping, dear papa, that you are well, and with kind
regards to Tabby and Martha,--I am, your affectionate daughter,

'C. BRONTE.'

TO W. S. WILLIAMS

'_October_ 2_nd_, 1850.

'MY DEAR SIR,--I have to thank you for the care and kindness with
which you have assisted me throughout in correcting these _Remains_.

'Whether, when they are published, they will appear to others as they
do to me, I cannot tell. I hope not. And indeed I suppose what to
me is bitter pain will only be soft pathos to the general public.

'Miss Martineau has several times lately asked me to go and see her;
and though this is a dreary season for travelling northward, I think
if papa continues pretty well I shall go in a week or two. I feel to
my deep sorrow, to my humiliation, that it is not in my power to bear
the canker of constant solitude. I had calculated that when shut out
from e