custom among these girls to sew till nine o'clock at
night. At that hour, Miss Branwell generally went to bed, and her
nieces' duties for the day were accounted done. They put away their
work, and began to pace the room backwards and forwards, up and down,--as
often with the candles extinguished, for economy's sake, as not,--their
figures glancing into the fire-light, and out into the shadow,
perpetually. At this time, they talked over past cares and troubles;
they planned for the future, and consulted each other as to their plans.
In after years this was the time for discussing together the plots of
their novels. And again, still later, this was the time for the last
surviving sister to walk alone, from old accustomed habit, round and
round the desolate room, thinking sadly upon the "days that were no
more." But this Christmas of 1836 was not without its hopes and daring
aspirations. They had tried their hands at story-writing, in their
miniature magazine, long ago; they all of them "made out" perpetually.
They had likewise attempted to write poetry; and had a modest confidence
that they had achieved a tolerable success. But they knew that they
might deceive themselves, and that sisters' judgments of each other's
productions were likely to be too partial to be depended upon. So
Charlotte, as the eldest, resolved to write to Southey. I believe (from
an expression in a letter to be noticed hereafter), that she also
consulted Coleridge; but I have not met with any part of that
correspondence.

On December 29th, her letter to Southey was despatched; and from an
excitement not unnatural in a girl who has worked herself up to the pitch
of writing to a Poet Laureate and asking his opinion of her poems, she
used some high-flown expressions which, probably, gave him the idea that
she was a romantic young lady, unacquainted with the realities of life.

This, most likely, was the first of those adventurous letters that passed
through the little post-office of Haworth. Morning after morning of the
holidays slipped away, and there was no answer; the sisters had to leave
home, and Emily to return to her distasteful duties, without knowing even
whether Charlotte's letter had ever reached its destination.

Not dispirited, however, by the delay, Branwell determined to try a
similar venture, and addressed the following letter to Wordsworth. It
was given by the poet to Mr. Quillinan in 1850, after the name of Bronte
had bec