age of
twenty-two she married William Gaskell, a minister of the
Unitarian Church in Manchester. She became famous in 1848 on
the publication of "Mary Barton," a novel treating of factory
life. Her "Life of Charlotte Bronte," published in 1857,
caused much controversy, which became bitter, and occasioned
the fixed resolve on the part of its author that her own
memoirs should never be published. This gloomily-haunting,
vivid human "Life of Charlotte Bronte" was written at the
request of the novelist's father, who placed all the materials
in his possession at the disposal of the biographer. Mrs.
Gaskell took great pains to make her work complete, and,
though published only two years after Charlotte Bronte's
death, it still holds the field unchallenged. Mrs. Gaskell
died on November 12, 1865.

_I.--The Children Who Never Played_

Into the midst of the lawless yet not unkindly population of Haworth, in
the West Riding, the Rev. Patrick Bronte brought his wife and six little
children in February, 1820, seven heavily-laden carts lumbering slowly
up the long stone street bearing the "new parson's" household goods.

A native of County Down, Mr. Bronte had entered St. John's College,
Cambridge, in 1802, obtained his B.A. degree, and after serving as a
curate in Essex, had been appointed curate at Hartshead, in Yorkshire.
There he was soon captivated by Maria Branwell, a little gentle
creature, the third daughter of Mr. Thomas Branwell, merchant, of
Penzance. In 1816 he received the living of Thornton, in Bradford
Parish, and there, on April 21, Charlotte Bronte was born. She was the
third daughter, Maria and Elizabeth being her elder sisters, and fast on
her heels followed Patrick Branwell, Emily Jane and Anne.

"They kept themselves to themselves very close," in the account given by
those who remember the family coming to Haworth. From the first, the
walks of the children were directed rather towards the heathery moors
sloping upwards behind the parsonage than towards the long descending
village street. Hand in hand they used to make their way to the glorious
moors, which in after days they loved so passionately.

They were grave and silent beyond their years. "You would never have
known there was a child in the house, they were such still, noiseless,
good little creatures," said one of my informants. "Maria would often
shut herself up" (Maria of s