he Period of it?-?Tragic Description?-?Probable Ruse of Branwell?-?Correspondence betwe

It was headed by a drawing of John Brown, who had been engaged in lettering a monument, and who was represented under two different aspects. These are in one sketch, divided in the middle by a pole, on which is placed a skull. In the first compartment, the sexton is exhibited in a state of glorious exultation, kicking over the table and stools, while the chair he occupies is falling backwards. He holds a tumbler in his right hand, and swears, in his Yorkshire dialect, that he is 'King and a hau

dear

him the nature of his intended work, and the time it will probably occupy in exe

e-Rhine to the Land of Ham, and from thence to Gehenna, Tophet, Golgotha, Erebus, the Styx, and to the place he no

Moses, Elias, and the prophets, "singing psalms, sitting on a wet cl

red of a fine thumping boy, whom his father means to christen Homer, at least, though the

is appended a drawing of a coin, about the size of an ordinary penny, with the head of Br

r the ensuing one, your presence there would gratify one of the FALL

no matter worthy of extraction for your perusal. All is yet with me

o on with any mental effort, which might rescue me from the fate of a dry toast, soaked si

tracted between a tumbler on eac

Sardonicus-the sardonic laugh? Did a man

ng forth the halter to the culprit, who is John Brown, and an excelle

, to the year 1848-though they really belong to 1846-has, with some appearance of consistency, produced the following picture of his friend, under the impression that 'a few days afterwards he died.' But the circumstances that Mr. Grundy's journey to Haworth arose out of the

ver pleasantly reflecting the sparkling fire-light, deeply toned by the red curtains. Whilst I waited his appearance, his father was shown in. Much of the Rector's old stiffness of manner was gone. He spoke of Branwell with more affection than I had ever heretofore heard him

knew he best liked, drew him quickly into the room, and forced upon him a stiff glass of hot brandy. Under its influence, and that of the bright, cheerful surroundings, he looked frightened-frightened of himself. He glanced at me a moment, and muttered something about leaving a warm bed to come out into the cold night. Another glass of brandy, and returning warmth, gradually brought him back to something like t

was a call from Satan. Dressing himself, he took the knife, which he had long had secreted, and came to the inn, with a full determination to rush into the room and stab the occupant. In the excited state of his mind he did not recognise me when he ope

mour that was then upon him, an episode which the latter, with his erroneous impression as to the date, has been led to depict in somewhat lurid colours. It is most probable, indeed, that, like Hamlet, he 'put an antic disposition on.' Something confirmatory of this view will appear in the next chapter. Among his friends, as I know, Branwell would now and then assume an indignant, and sometimes a furious mood, and put on airs of wild abstraction from which he suddenly recovered, and was again calm and natural, smiling, indeed, at his successful impersonation of passions he scarcely felt at the time. The abse

well wrote

ar

ave been forwarded to you a few days after

, has gone out of date, so I have burnt it, and now sen

ill be only asking for advice, I hope you will feel as a cat does when her hair is st

e him, and the moment that I receive my outlaid cash, o

have some reason to

e a fellow's soul like a

ould like to dri

Volente) on matters of much importa

in th

icius Branwel

h holding a wine glass, and, between them on the ground, is a decanter. Behind the sculptor is placed the mutilated statue of Theseus. A copy of Cowper's 'Anatomy' is open at the title-page; and, leaning over it, is a fi

oul is

clay

to do with

ight of lig

no sorrows

less lies

. On the stone are carved the words, HIC JACET. Distant peaked hills bound the view. Two pines are to the right of the picture

GI IMPLORA E

h the incoherency of the monomania with which he continues to be afflicted, he solemnly declares to the sculptor that he had said to no one what he is then saying to him; while, in truth, he was telling the story of his

dear

eat your mercy; but, when I look upon my past, present, and future, and then

d which the Lady was not permitted to see. She too, surrounded by powerful persons who hate me like Hell, has sunk into religious melancholy, believes that her weight of sorrow is God's punishment, and hopelessly resigns herself to her doom. God only knows what it doe

decline,-it to make room for drudgery, falling on one now ill-fitted to bear it. That ill-fittedness rises from causes which I should find myself able partially to overcome, had I bodily strength; but, with the want of that, and with the presence of daily lacerated nerves, the task is not easy. I have been, in truth, too much petted through life, and, in my last situation, I was so much master, and gave myself so much

ow, instead of rousing my imagination, cause a whirlwind of blighting sorrow that sweeps over my mind with unspeakable dreariness; and, if I sit down and try to write, all ide

am a thoroughly old man, mentally and bodily-far more, indeed, than I am willing to express

more-oh! ne

f the heart sha

all the lovely

tions beauti

could feel as though I were placed for seven days in Paradise; but now, really, dear sir, my eyes would rest

cash. They do not know that I would rather want a shirt than want a springy mind, and that my total want of happiness, were I to step into York Minster now, would be far, far worse than their want of a h

d that, when he dies, my evening, which is already twilight, will become night; that I shall then have a constituti

nearly too bitter for me to allude to it!' Here follow a number of references to the subject, with which th

ot believe that you would be able to understand somewhat of what I meant-though not all, sir; for he who is without hope,